I was eight when I learned that not all monsters hide under the bed; some sit behind you in class, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. Nancy was the kind of bully whose cruelty was quiet and calculated, leaving deep scars without any visible evidence. By high school, I had mastered the art of invisibility, counting down the days until I could escape to college, where I hoped Nancy would no longer exist.
That hope was shattered when my brother Matt called to announce his engagement to Nancy. My stomach dropped as I recalled the torment she had put me through. Despite my protests, Matt insisted that people change, so I reluctantly agreed to attend the engagement party, hoping she had indeed transformed. But when I saw her, the same polite smile masked her venomous nature, and I quickly realized that nothing had changed.
