SAMANTHA POV
The moment she had reached the restroom after the commotion in the cafeteria, she swiftly slammed the door shut, almost breaking the lock. Her hands were shaking-not out of fear.
But from rage.
"YOU BITCH, NICOLE!" She screamed inside, the strength of the echo almost shattering the mirror. "You pulled my hair?! In front of the entire cafeteria?!"
She clutched at her own hair, frustration, humiliation, and pure rage boiling inside her. Her chest hammered, she could barely breathe from the anger.
"How dare she!? She humiliated ME! ME!" She spoke sharply, wiping the faint tear line under her eye. "And for what? For a nobody like Filia?!"
She grasped her phone and scrolled right away.
And there she saw it.
Notifications. Non-stop. Constantly.
"Locker Room Incident: Samantha Montana Goes Too Far?"
"Bully!"
"You're such a terrible person, girl!"
"KARMA IS REAL."
"Where is your respect?"
There were videos.
There were screenshots.
There were memes.
There were even slow-motion shots.
Her face felt seared with shame and rage.
"NO. NO. NO. NO!" she all but whispered, screaming. "Who uploaded this?! DAMMIT!!!"
But it wasn't over.
When she opened the comments:
"What you did to Filia was awful."
"Where is your conscience?"
"You're pretty, but your attitude completely ruins it."
"Jharied wouldn't like a girl like you."
Upon reading the last comment, she became even hotter with rage.
"Jharied…" she whispered full of hatred. "All this happened because of you, Filia. If only you hadn't gone near him… if only you hadn't replaced me…"
She kicked the bin hard, its contents rattling loudly.
"You shouldn't be Jharied's wife! Not you!"
But before she could finish her tantrum—
Someone suddenly appeared before her.
"SAMANTHA!"
She spun around—
Filia.
But not the quiet, tearful, pleading Filia.
No.
Her gaze was hard, her eyes red, and her walk aggressive.
And before Samantha could utter a word—
*SLAPPP!!*
A loud slapping sound met her cheek.
She halted. She stumbled backward.
She almost lost her balance.
"WHAT THE—FILIA?!" she screamed in anger.
But Filia wasn't done.
"You think you can keep messing with me, huh?! I'm not running from you, Samantha! I'm right here!" Filia exclaimed angrily, with every word heavily emphasised.
"YOUR ATTITUDE IS UGLY!" Samantha shot back, grabbing Filia's hair and tugging on it.
"You haven't seen anything yet!" Filia replied as she yanked Samantha's hair back.
And that is where an intense, no-holds-barred fight began.
Samantha pushed Filia-
But Filia pushed her back harder.
Samantha managed to pull Filia's hair—
but she cried out when Filia landed a hit on her arm.
"You think I'm still afraid of you?!" Filia yelled.
"You should be!" Samantha shot back, though her voice was trembling with rage.
They exchanged hair-pulling, pushing, kicking, glares-
And everybody who was walking down the hall just stopped. Someone was taking a video again, people were just whispering, some covering their mouths.
"Wow, look at them…"
"It's Samantha again."
"Filia is fighting back!
"They're both being dramatic."
But neither had heard a word of this. Both pairs of eyes blazed, both faces contorted in anger, neither willing to yield.
Until—
"STOP IT."
Heavy.
Cold.
Direct
Although they still could not see him, they knew the voice.
Slowly, they both turned.
Jharied.
Standing in the middle of the hallway, a look of deep irritation was etched on his face.
His eyes were narrowed.
His jaw was clenched.
His hands were balled into fists.
He turned to Samantha.
"What is your problem?" he said icily. "Are you not finished yet? How many times does that need to be told?
Samantha replied, her voice trembling, though she tried to sound brave.
"Jharied, she started—!"
"No."
He cut her off right away.
"Stop making stories up. I saw the video."
Samantha's eyes widened.
She suddenly looked crestfallen.
"B-because—I just—I only wanted—"
"I don't need your reason."
He said it outright, without even looking her in the eye.
"But you need to remember the one thing…"
He walked closer.
One step.
Till he was standing in front of Samantha, who was looking up at him, her chin trembling.
"…FILIA IS MY RESPONSIBILITY. Not yours."
What she heard was like a punch to the gut for Samantha.
"And if you touch her again—"
Jharied's gaze lifted.
Extremely serious.
No longer just angry.
Warning.
"—you'll face me. Not Nicole. Not Joseph. Me."
The hallway was silent.
No one moved.
And Samantha—
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't move.
It was as if her pride and her long-flaunted ego had been crushed.
And before she could speak—
Jharied called Filia.
"Let's go. You don't need to be around that."
And Filia moved to his side, the tension in the air palpable.
But before they could walk completely away—
They heard Samantha's faint whisper.
"…I'm not done. We're not done yet, Filia."
Filia smiled, bitter and tired but defiant.
"Good. Because we haven't even started."
_____
THIRD PERSON POV:
When Filia and Jharied left the hallway, the students still didn't move. It was quiet. Tense. Their eyes were wide with shock-and of course, hungry for gossip.
"That was intense…
"Jharied is seriously angry."
"Samantha is in trouble."
But before the murmurs could spread further—
"WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?!"
Dean Morales shouted, hurrying over with two teachers with him: Ma'am Dotimas and Sir Calvo. When they saw Samantha's disheveled hair, her red cheek, and the students holding up their phones, recording.
"Phones. ALL OF YOU. Put them down," Ma'am Rivera ordered firmly.
Immediately, everyone lowered their cellphones; some panicked and even deleted their videos before they could be caught. The first to approach Samantha was Sir Calvo.
"Samantha Montana, in my office. NOW." Emphasis on "NOW!!" seemed crystal clear. But Samantha did not move. Her head was bowed and her hands were trembling. She was still clearly reeling from the harsh words just said by Jharied moments before.
"SAMANTHA," Sir Calvo repeated, his voice louder. She had to get up, and her knees were trembling. Her world, in which she was the queen, felt so small all of a sudden.
--
As she entered the principal's office, her heart almost fell. Principal Hernandez and Ma'am Otero were leaning back, holding a tablet—and watching the viral video. Her name was emblazoned across the screen.
"Samantha Montana – Bullying Incident (Locker Room Footage)" When he did look at her, his eyes were cold, emotionless; a look that clearly told her she had gotten herself into a great deal of trouble.
"Sit." One word, but heavy. She sat down. "Would you like to explain this?" the Principal asked, immediately playing the video again-the dragging of Filia, the dunking of her face into the drum of water, everything.
Sweat beaded upon her forehead. She tightened the grip of her hands.
"S-sir… I… I was provoked—" "No one provoked you to this," replied the principal coldly.
"This isn't bullying. This is assault." Samantha's eyes widened.
"Sir, I didn't—!"
"THREE students have already come forward with statements. And based on this footage, you dragged her. You hit her. You forced her head underwater." Samantha stopped breathing. She felt deafened. Ma'am Otero moved closer to her.
"Do you realize you could've seriously injured her? Samantha, this is beyond school conflict." She wanted to scream, she wanted to deny everything, but she couldn't say a word.
She had no defense.