Reborn to Expose My Fake Depressed Roommate

After swallowing an entire bottle of sleeping pills, I stumbled across a Reddit thread. [What's the Most Toxic Roommate You've Ever Had?] The top-voted comment read: [I once had a roommate who faked depression and claimed to be a highly sensitive person. [If someone smiled, she thought they were making fun of her. If someone didn't talk to her, she accused them of excluding her. [She even cut her own wrists and framed another roommate for bullying her. The poor girl was relentlessly cyberbullied and eventually forced to drop out of school.] Someone asked what had happened to the roommate who'd been falsely accused. The reply read: [She didn't die, but she developed severe, genuine depression. Before she left, she kept insisting she'd never bullied anyone. [But nobody believed her. Meanwhile, the girl who'd faked her depression became a major influencer with a million followers and married into a wealthy family.] I stared at the familiar photo of a slashed wrist attached to the post, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. "It's all fake!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my first day of college. Chapter 1 Dressed in a flowing white sundress, Alexandria Clarke looked around the dorm room with a timid, fragile expression. "I was bullied in high school because I was pretty, and it left me with severe depression," she said softly. "My therapist says I'm a highly sensitive person, so I sometimes overthink things. I just hope you guys can be patient with me." "Alexandria, don't be scared," Becky Layne immediately reassured her. "We're family now." Christine Paine, the unofficial leader of our dorm, nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! We've all come from different states, and it's fate that brought us together. If anyone tries to bully you, they'll have to get through us first." I leaned against the doorframe without saying a word. In my previous life, I'd fallen for Alexandria's act, too. I'd treated her like a genuine friend and bent over backward to accommodate her. Whenever she spiraled into negativity in the middle of the night, I'd stay up talking her through it until three in the morning. Whenever she complained about being left out, I'd accompany her everywhere. I'd bring her meals from the dining hall, save her seats in lecture halls, and like and leave comforting comments on every one of her Instagram posts. I genuinely thought I was helping someone who was ill. It took me far too long to realize that some people simply had no conscience. At the freshman orientation mixer, Alexandria burst into hysterical tears, accused me of bullying her and tearing her dress to shreds. She posted pictures of her slashed wrists all over social media, blowing up the entire campus. Reddit, X, and our freshman GroupMe were flooded with posts attacking me. I tried to defend myself until my voice went hoarse, but no one believed a word I said. The dean of students forced me to withdraw from school. My parents called to demand that I admit my wrongdoing and stop bringing shame to the family. I was expelled, torn apart by online abuse, and condemned by everyone around me. Eventually, I developed real depression. It wasn't until the day I swallowed that entire bottle of sleeping pills that I stumbled across the Reddit thread. That was when I learned the truth: Alexandria had never been depressed at all. Her so-called sensitivity was just another weapon. The scar on her wrist was nothing more than a prop in her performance. And I was the scapegoat she'd chosen to climb her way to the top. She'd built her success on the ruins of my life, becoming an influencer with a million followers before marrying into a wealthy family. ... I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pain of my past life. When I opened them again, I heard my own voice coming from my mouth. "You say you have depression. Do you have an actual diagnosis or a note from your doctor?" Alexandria's fragile expression stiffened instantly. She quickly lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do. I just left it at home. I didn't bring it to campus. Do you... not believe me?" Christine frowned and shot me a disapproving look. "Maggie, what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "She's already upset, and you're deliberately bringing up her trauma." "Seriously?" Becky chimed in, glaring at me. "Who would joke about something as serious as depression?" "Exactly," Christine echoed. "No one should use mental illness as a way to make a point." I simply reached into my pocket and tapped my phone screen. The voice recorder had been running the entire time. "I never said I didn't believe you," I replied coolly, keeping my eyes on Alexandria. "I'm just saying that if you're ill, you should seek professional treatment. You can't expect the entire dorm to revolve around you." "Never mind." She wiped her tears. "I'm just being too sensitive again. I'll try harder not to be a burden to everyone." "Hey, don't say that." Christine quickly handed her a box of tissues. "Nobody thinks you're a burden." "Yeah, just ignore her," Becky joined in. "She doesn't think before she speaks." Watching the same disgusting scene unfold all over again, I couldn't help laughing. Then I picked up my duffel bag and tossed it onto the empty bed. "Let's get one thing straight right now," I said evenly. "I'm a straightforward person. If you really have depression, I suggest you request a room transfer. "Because if you stay in a room with me, I'm afraid you'll end up with a lot more to worry about than your so-called sensitivity." Chapter 2 The dorm room fell silent. "Maggie, do you not like me?" Alexandria murmured pitifully. "If I've done something wrong, just tell me. I'll change." Becky shot me a glare before turning to comfort her. "Alexandria, it's not your fault. Maggie is just cold-blooded. She has no empathy at all." I ignored her taunt. Empathy was for people who were genuinely struggling, not someone who faked depression and framed others. ... The next day, Alexandria took her act to another level. Whenever Becky chuckled at something on her computer, Alexandria would immediately probe, "Are you laughing at me?" Becky would freeze and frantically wave her hands. "No! I'm just watching a funny video." Alexandria would lower her head and whisper, "I know I'm too sensitive. I want to change, but I just can't help it." At lunchtime, Christine didn't invite her to come along. Alexandria sat alone on the edge of her bed, looking hurt. "Do you guys think I'm a burden, too?" "No, not at all!" Christine quickly explained. "I saw you were resting, so I didn't want to bother you." "It's fine." Alexandria shook her head. "I'm used to it by now. I'm always the odd one out wherever I go." "It's not like that." Becky hurried to her side. "None of us meant it that way." "Exactly." Christine nodded eagerly. "From now on, we'll go to the dining hall and all our classes together." Only then did Alexandria finally manage a smile through her tears. Christine became just like I had been in my previous life, organizing her entire day around Alexandria. She fetched water for her, picked up takeout, and even covered for her with our RA. She even sent me private messages. [Alexandria isn't doing well mentally. Can you just cut her some slack?] I stared at the message but didn't reply. A moment later, another one came through. [I know you don't like her, but we're roommates. We have to live together.] I left that one unanswered, too. It wasn't that I was heartless, but I'd suffered from clinical depression in my previous life. I knew what genuine depression could look like. During an episode, even the smallest things could feel overwhelming. The patients would avoid bright lights, loud noises, and crowds. Sometimes, even opening their eyes and facing another day took everything they had. But they didn't use their sensitivity to force everyone around them to walk on eggshells. And they certainly didn't take an eyebrow razor to make shallow cuts on their wrists, then photograph the marks to show them off. That was why I saw right through all Alexandria's performances. ... Our first major confrontation came a week later. A heavy thunderstorm was raging outside, so I went to close the balcony door. Alexandria immediately sat up in bed, her voice trembling. "Maggie, why did you slam the door? Do you have a problem with me?" I turned to face her. "I was just closing the balcony door." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "You slammed it on purpose to make a point." The commotion woke the others in the room. "Maggie, it's the middle of the night," Becky complained. "Can you keep it down?" "Alexandria is a light sleeper." Christine sighed. "Could you be a little more considerate?" "Was closing the door really louder than the thunder outside?" I countered. "I knew it!" Alexandria burst into tears. "You've been targeting me this whole time." Then she posted on Instagram. [Never mind. I'm just too sensitive. I guess I don't deserve anyone's kindness.] She attached a close-up photo of her wrist. Under the lighting, the shallow scratches were clearly visible, and a dozen comments quickly filled with sympathy appeared beneath the post. Becky shared it in our suite group chat. Christine immediately followed up with a message of comfort: [Alexandria, don't take it too hard. It's not your fault. Some people just don't have a heart.] A few minutes later, Alexandria finally replied: [Please don't blame Maggie. Maybe it really is my fault.] The group chat was flooded with another wave of consolation. Saying nothing, I took screenshots of every message and saved them all in a folder. After that, I became invisible in the dorm. Nobody invited me to get food with them, and nobody waited for me when we were heading to class. That was fine. At least I didn't have to waste time pretending we were friends. When registration opened for the freshman talent showcase, Alexandria signed up to audition as the host of the orientation gala. She breezed through both the preliminary round and the semifinals, telling everyone she met that she'd loved being onstage since she was little and that performing was the only thing keeping her going. Then, two days before the freshman showcase, something happened. I was walking back from the campus radio station when my phone rang. It was Tracy Trigg, the freshman counselor, and she sounded frantic. "Maggie, I need you to get backstage to the rehearsal area right now." My heart sank at the request. Because everything was unfolding exactly as it had in my previous life. Chapter 3 The backstage area was in chaos. Shredded fabric lay scattered across the floor. Alexandria was being supported by someone as she sobbed so hard that her whole body trembled. The moment she saw me, she broke down even harder. "Maggie, why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?" "Maggie, do you have any idea how important the orientation gala is to the department?" Tracy demanded, her expression dark. "How could you pull a stunt like this and embarrass everyone?" Christine stood beside Alexandria, looking deeply disappointed. "You've had it out for Alexandria since the first day of classes. We all saw it." Becky piled on. "She's just jealous because Alexandria is prettier and got picked to host the gala. She's been giving Alexandria attitude in the dorm, and now she's resorted to outright sabotage." I stood my ground without rushing to defend myself. I'd lived through this exact moment in my previous life. Back then, I'd panicked and cried, desperately trying to prove my innocence. I'd begged them to check the security cameras and sworn that I hadn't done it. But they'd told me the cameras were broken. The harder I'd tried to clear my name, the guiltier I'd looked. This time, I simply took a deep breath and said calmly, "I'm willing to cooperate with an investigation." Tracy paused, apparently surprised by my response. I continued before she could say anything, "But I want to see the security footage. The dress was locked in Alexandria's locker. The footage will show exactly who cut it up." "Are you really trying to blow this out of proportion?" Tracy frowned with growing uneasiness. "Alexandria is already traumatized. Do you want to drag this out until the whole campus knows about it?" "I know better than anyone how important this gala is to the department," I said, folding my arms. "That's why we can't declare someone guilty just because the other person cries louder." "What is that supposed to mean?" Christine snapped. "Are you saying Alexandria is putting on an act?" "Fine, check the cameras!" Becky chimed in. "They'll show exactly what you did. Stop pretending you're innocent!" I remained unfazed. "I have nothing to hide. I just refuse to let someone's tears cost me my innocence." Becky faltered. "Drop the act." "Maggie, if you admit what you did and apologize now, we can handle this privately." Tracy sighed, giving me a patronizing look. "If we escalate this, it won't look good for anyone." "How am I supposed to confess to something I didn't do?" I shot back. "Or have you already decided I'm guilty?" "I'm trying to help you," she said with a frown. "Just look at Alexandria's mental state. She can't handle this kind of stress." "So, should I just accept being branded a bully?" I retorted. "I still have four years left at this school." Just then, the door to the backstage area swung open. Steven Durham, the associate dean of students, walked in with several faculty members behind him. He glanced at the shredded fabric on the floor, then turned to me. "Maggie Lomax?" I nodded. "What's going on here?" I explained the situation from beginning to end, sticking to the facts without exaggerating anything. After listening, he turned to Tracy. "Have you checked the security footage yet?" "I... haven't had the chance." "This concerns the orientation gala and the reputations of two students. Get the footage. Now." Tracy started to defend herself, but Steven's stern expression stopped her. "Go ahead and check it," Christine muttered under her breath. "It's not like Alexandria did anything wrong." The ten minutes it took to retrieve the footage felt longer than a century. Alexandria was still crying, with Christine holding her close. Becky had her phone out, recording everything. I just stood in the corner and ignored them all. As the minutes passed, Alexandria's sobs gradually subsided. Resting her head on Christine's shoulder, she occasionally glanced my way with a look of triumph. I met her gaze without flinching, determined to prove her wrong. I'd like to see which one of us cracked first. Finally, someone brought up the footage on a laptop. On the screen, a girl with her back to the camera stood in front of Alexandria's locker. She was wearing my light gray hoodie. She quickly pulled Alexandria's performance dress out of the locker and hacked it to pieces with a pair of scissors. When she was done, she locked the locker again and walked away with her head down. "That's Maggie's hoodie!" Becky shrieked. Chapter 4 Alexandria burst into even louder sobs. "It really is her! It really is Maggie!" "Maggie, that's your hoodie!" Christine pointed straight at me. "What do you have to say for yourself now?" I stared at the figure on the screen. The hoodie was indeed mine, but the person wearing it wasn't me. In my previous life, this single frame had destroyed me. But I wasn't going to let that happen again. This time, I'd make them uncover the truth themselves, piece by piece. Alexandria suddenly stopped crying. She slowly pulled a piece of paper from her bag and held it up for everyone to see. It was supposedly an evaluation of her mental health. "I've been taking medication," she said bitterly. "I've been suffering in silence this whole time. I didn't want to bring this up, but I really can't take it anymore." She thrust the paper into Tracy's hands. "Ms. Trigg, please look at this. I really do have a medical condition. I'm not making it up. Maggie just won't leave me alone." Tracy glanced at the document and sighed sympathetically. "Alexandria, you've been through so much." Christine leaned over to look at it, then shook her head in frustration. "Maggie, what do you have to say now?" Becky raised her phone and pointed the camera straight at my face. "Hey, bully! Look up so everyone can get a good look at you!" I stood my ground without flinching or trying to avoid the camera. Every frame they recorded today could become evidence later. My gaze settled on the report, and my blood slowly ran cold. In my previous life, this very document had sealed my fate. But this time, I could see right through it. I'd suffered from genuine depression, so I knew what an actual hospital diagnosis looked like. This paper had no official hospital letterhead, no signature from a licensed psychiatrist, and no official seal. It was nothing more than a cheap self-assessment quiz. Anyone could fill it out and score in the moderate depression range. But no one else in that room knew the difference. Christine glared at me. "Alexandria is already suffering so much, and you still went and shredded her clothes?" Becky kept recording. "I'm going to make sure the whole campus sees what a bully looks like!" Tracy lowered her voice, disappointment evident in every word. "Maggie, I don't even know what to say. You've disappointed me beyond words." Steven spoke solemnly. "We will investigate this matter thoroughly and ensure Alexandria gets the justice she deserves." Not one person stopped to ask whether the figure in the footage was actually me. Not one questioned whether Alexandria's medical report was legitimate. All they saw was a trembling, tearful victim and a bully who supposedly had no way to defend herself. Soon, the campus forums and social media were flooded with posts about the incident. [Journalism major Maggie Lomax bullied her roommate and drove her into a depressive breakdown.] [Someone like this wants to be a journalist? Expel her!] [Alexandria Clarke is so pitiful. Her dress was destroyed, and now she's being harassed online.] [I heard Maggie comes from an ordinary middle-class family. What gives her the right to act so viciously?] [There's video evidence and a medical report. The evidence is rock solid. Why is she still denying it?] [I've already filed a formal complaint with the dean's office. People like her need to be kicked out!] [Upvote this so everyone can see what kind of person she is.] ... I scrolled through the posts one by one. Not a single person bothered to hear my side of the story. Nobody even considered the possibility that the figure in the footage wasn't me. My name was dragged through the mud in every thread. People demanded that I withdraw from school, apologize, and face the consequences. Some of my classmates even tagged me in our class group chat. [Maggie Lomax, do you seriously still have the nerve to show up to class?] [Get the hell out of the journalism department!] I muted the notifications but didn't leave the group. Every message was evidence. Sitting quietly in a dark corner backstage, I carefully organized the files on my phone. I sorted the new video clips, verification documents, and a detailed timeline of events into separate folders. By the time the gala officially began, the auditorium was packed. Alexandria had changed into a fresh outfit and stood backstage with a sweet smile on her face. She thought I was still the same girl I'd been in my previous life, someone who could only cry and desperately defend herself to no avail. I walked straight into the spotlight, looked at the sea of faces in the audience, and then turned toward the wings. Steven, Tracy, Christine, and Becky were all standing there. The moment Alexandria saw me at center stage, the color drained from her face. Ignoring them, I adjusted the microphone and began to speak. "Regarding the incident in which Alexandria Clarke's performance outfit was shredded, the school administration spent three days investigating the matter. It concluded that I was responsible because the person in the security footage was wearing my hoodie." Murmurs spread through the auditorium. I paused and connected my phone to the projector. "Today, I'd like to present a new piece of evidence. I want everyone to take a close look and decide for yourselves whether the person in that footage is really me." The entire auditorium fell silent. Once the video file finished loading on the massive screen, I placed my finger over the Play button.