Chapter 8: Seen

Ashamed, I thought of my dad. When Lillian had a stalker in high school, Dad waited outside her school with a baseball bat every day for two weeks until the kid got scared off. I figured he’d stand up for me too.

But after I showed him the message, he lost it. He slapped me across the face. “So young and already flaunting yourself. Don’t come crying to me.” Then: “You’re not the kind of daughter I raised.”

I begged my dad in his study, voice shaking. When he yelled, the whole house came running. Mom looked at the photo and went pale. “What kind of college student are you? Not studying, running around embarrassing us? Shameless.”

Lillian tossed in a jab. “Now your weird modeling job makes sense. If the model’s ugly, the clothes stand out more.”

Derek was the only one who tried to defend me, but even he grumbled, “Didn’t Mom and Dad give you enough money? Why work outside?”

Everyone blamed me. I was stunned. I remembered how, when Lillian was stalked, Mom and Dad never scolded her. They hugged her, told her it wasn’t her fault. Why was it different for me? Was it really because I wasn’t the pretty one?

Years of bitterness boiled over. I ran out, Mom shouting after me, “Say a few words and you run away? So grown up now.”

But I wasn’t running away. I had business to do. I went to the police station, alone, and reported the creep. The officer shrugged. “A student at Grove State? Good school. How’d you get tricked?” He offered to call the guy and warn him. “Next time, be careful when changing clothes.”

It wasn’t enough. I sat in the park, shivering, then tracked down other girls who’d worked the same shoot. Three more had been harassed; one had even paid the creep $500 to keep quiet. Together, we went back to the police. This time, they took us seriously. The guy got five days in county jail.

It was good news. But I didn’t feel good. I was scared—maybe Mom was right. Maybe I should just stick to studying, stay out of trouble. But I couldn’t help thinking: I shouldn’t have to hide. Not anymore. I pulled my jacket tighter and stepped into the streetlights, heart pounding, ready to be seen—flaws and all.