THE GUY WHO BULLIED ME THROUGH HIGHSCHOOL NEEDED MY HELP IN THE ER I’ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat—but I love it. It’s the one place where I feel like I truly matter. Nobody cares what I look like, just that I do my job well. But today? Today threw me back to a time I’d rather forget. I walked into the ER room with my chart, barely glancing at the name. “Alright, let’s see what we got—” Then I looked up. Robby Langston. He was sitting on the bed, wincing as he held his wrist, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide. For a second, I thought maybe he didn’t recognize me. But then he did a quick, awkward glance at my face—at my nose—and I knew. Middle school, high school… he made my life hell. “Big Becca,” “Toucan Sam,” all the creative ways to make a girl hate her own reflection. I spent years wishing I could shrink, disappear, be anyone else. But here I was, standing in scrubs, holding his chart, and he was the one needing me. “Becca?” His voice was hesitant, almost nervous. “Wow, uh… it’s been a while.” I kept my face neutral. “What happened to your wrist?” “Basketball injury,” he said. “Just a sprain, I think.” I nodded, checking his vitals, doing my job like I would with anyone else. But inside, I was battling old ghosts. I had imagined a moment like this before—facing my past, getting some kind of closure. Maybe even some kind of justice. Then, as I wrapped his wrist, he let out ⬇️

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I’ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat—but I love it. It’s the one place where I feel like I truly …

THE GUY WHO BULLIED ME THROUGH HIGHSCHOOL NEEDED MY HELP IN THE ER I’ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat—but I love it. It’s the one place where I feel like I truly matter. Nobody cares what I look like, just that I do my job well. But today? Today threw me back to a time I’d rather forget. I walked into the ER room with my chart, barely glancing at the name. “Alright, let’s see what we got—” Then I looked up. Robby Langston. He was sitting on the bed, wincing as he held his wrist, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide. For a second, I thought maybe he didn’t recognize me. But then he did a quick, awkward glance at my face—at my nose—and I knew. Middle school, high school… he made my life hell. “Big Becca,” “Toucan Sam,” all the creative ways to make a girl hate her own reflection. I spent years wishing I could shrink, disappear, be anyone else. But here I was, standing in scrubs, holding his chart, and he was the one needing me. “Becca?” His voice was hesitant, almost nervous. “Wow, uh… it’s been a while.” I kept my face neutral. “What happened to your wrist?” “Basketball injury,” he said. “Just a sprain, I think.” I nodded, checking his vitals, doing my job like I would with anyone else. But inside, I was battling old ghosts. I had imagined a moment like this before—facing my past, getting some kind of closure. Maybe even some kind of justice. Then, as I wrapped his wrist, he let out ⬇️ Read More