Page 9 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Haven

I opted for a ballerina bun today. Makes my hair look less greasy, and I think it goes better with the calf-length yellow sundress I’m wearing. It’s thrifted, but it’s got Gucci on the label so I’m calling it vintage and rolling with it.

There’s even a lick of mascara on my lashes. Don’t know how long it was in the glove compartment before I found it, so I’m definitely risking an eye infection.

Worth it.

After listening to the ‘healing affirmations’ cassette tape I also discovered in the glove box, I’m ready to tackle whatever fresh hell comes my way.

I am happy.

I am successful.

I am worthy.

And fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.

Nora smiles when she sees me, and that smile blossoms into a grin when I slap the Financial Responsibility form down on the freshly polished counter.

“That was quick! ”

I shrug like it’s nothing. “I told his guru it would mess with my dad’s vibes if I got kicked out of college because he was too busy aligning his chakras to sign a form.”

She giggles as she slides the form down to her desk and gives it a quick scan. “Beautiful, thank you, sweetie.”

When she looks up and sees a candy bar sitting on the counter, her cheeks turn rosy.

“They were on sale. BOGO!” I give her a wink, wiggling my fingers at her as I tuck my tote bag under my arm and head for the stairs.

I almost make it.

“Oh, Haven, dear! Just a minute, sweetie.”

Fuck.

Well, no matter how this ends, at least I went down swinging.

My hand is still on the balustrade as I turn to give her a forced smile. “Uh-huh?”

“The annual Rain Dance is coming up. The flyers just got dropped off this morning. Would you like one?”

Stress kills. My cortisol levels must be sky high by now.

I trot back to her to fetch a flier, the slap of my flip-flops seeming to echo through the hushed reception area. I wish I could say they were some designer brand too, but they’re about three flops away from disintegrating, so…

There’s still plenty of time before I have to meet Professor Rooke. His classes start at ten-thirty every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I pass the janitor halfway up the stairs, a cloth in one of his hands and a can of furniture spray in the other.

Hmm…lemon.

My favorite.

Now that I’m not arriving at the start of a class time slot, the halls are a lot busier. Some students glance my way, and even a handful smile or raise a hand in greeting, but most of them are too busy staring at their phones or pretending the world doesn’t exist.

Maybe I finally broke that curse, because I don’t spot anyone I know. I’m just another college student, and no one gives a shit about me.

By the time I get to room 102, I’m wearing a melancholy smile.

I push the door open and slip inside, immediately turning to grab the handle so I can make sure the door doesn’t slam.

Maybe I can fit in here. Eventually.

I guess everyone struggles the first few days. All these unfamiliar faces. I’m sure there are other students like me that don’t have friends. Not everyone’s going to be an asshole like?—

Kai is sprawled in his swivel chair, feet up on the desk, hands tucked behind his head. He’s chewing on something, but plucks it out of his mouth and tosses it on the table when my eyes land on him.

“Hey…” he drawls. “What’s up, Heavenly?”

Why the fuck does the sound of his voice make my stomach do cartwheels? Is it because it’s exactly the same as I remember—the inflection, the tone—but a hundred decibels deeper?

A quick scan of the room confirms Professor Rooke isn’t here yet.

Just me and Kai.

This is the part in the horror movie where an amateur violinist picks up his instrument and gets to work.

I lift my chin, adjust the floppy bag under my arm and walk over to Kai as gracefully as one can in flip-flops. Which is not gracefully at all.

I’m echoing.

He gives me a long, almost lewd, once-over as I approach.

I slam my bag down on the desk and curl my hands into fists at my side. “What the hell is your problem?”

One of his wild, bushy eyebrows quirks up. “Ex-cusie?” he says in a terrible Italian accent.

“Not, hi Haven , or, good to see you it’s been a while , all I get is you being a fucking dick?” I cross my arms over my chest, but my hands are still in fists.

He’s still got his feet up, so when he grabs the back of his neck and stretches, his swivel chair groans like he’s testing the limits of its manufacturer warranty.

“Hiya, slut,” he deadpans. “Good to see your sorry ass. It’s been a while.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to be an astronaut when you grew up, not a fucking asshole.”

Fuck this guy and his sour mood. I’ll wait outside for Professor Rooke.

But when I reach for my bag, Kai drops his feet to the floor and slams a hand down on my stuff.

“Hey!”

He grabs my wrist. “Hey,” he parrots back, his calm voice a bitter contrast to my frustration.

I immediately try to tug free, but fuck , he’s strong.

He stands and steps up to me, inches taller, inches wider. If there was a light source behind him, he’d be eclipsing me. But there’s just a long stretch of blackboard, and the staggered rows of empty seats behind me.

Where the hell is Professor Rooke?

Kai stares down his nose at me, and there’s such disgust in his eyes that I can feel just how sweaty, sticky, and greasy I am. I wasn’t expecting anyone to get this close to me. If I had, I’d have washed my hair.

He tugs me forward so hard that I fall against his warm, hard body. When I push at his chest, he grabs the top of my bare arm. His hand is just as warm, but viciously tight when he shakes me.

“Which professor’s load did you swallow for that grant? Rooke? Jetson? Or did you have to go down on the Dean?” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“What’s with your dick-sucking obsession?” I hate how breathless I sound. So frantic. “Your girlfriend not giving you enough head, you fucking loser?”

He laughs. A cruel, mirthless sound I’ve never heard him make before, even back when he was forcing me to walk the plank after the whole mutiny affair.

“Why would I want anyone else when I’ve got Agony Hollow’s newest whore right here?” He lowers his shoulders until we’re on eye level. “Besides, other girls don’t scream like you do. And they sure as fuck don’t make me as hard when they bleed.”

I always loved his eyes.

Verdant green, like the leaves and vines and ferns that served as a backdrop for all his wild fantasies.

His joy was unquenchable back then. Even if he had a fight with his brother, or his parents had cussed him out for something, he’d rant about it for all of a minute before announcing the theme of that day’s adventure.

And then we’d be off, both our lives forgotten at the border of the small creek we crossed each day.

Young Kai would look back at me, white teeth flashing in his tanned face, green eyes gleaming with excitement. And I’d feel safe and happy, my life brimming with potential.

But his eyes have changed. There’s darkness, and malice, and something I can’t identify swimming in them. Something that makes me feel guilty, but I don’t know why.

Those eyes are fucking terrifying.

He releases my wrist and grabs my chin. For a second, his gaze drops to my mouth. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. My stomach tightens, mouth drying in nervous anticipation.

But that darkness floods his irises as his gaze locks back on my eyes.

“You’re so pathetic. Charity case Haven, begging for scraps at the rich kids’ table. You’ll always be Riverside trash, no matter whose dick you suck.”

He shoves me away from him, straight into the edge of the table, so hard that I bounce off and go sprawling on the floor. I gasp as pain lances through my side.

Fuck, that’s going to leave a mark.

I jump up as he comes closer, but I’ve barely found my feet before he grabs the back of my head and slams it down on the table. Somehow I get my hands up in time so my forehead doesn’t crack that hard against the table, but I’m still reeling and weak in the knees.

I grab my bag instead of the table when I try to stop myself crashing to the ground as my legs give in. Books and notes and my pen tumble to the linoleum beside me as I land hard on my ass.

Before I can scramble up and sprint out of the lecture hall, the door opens, and Professor Rooke strides in.

Suddenly Kai’s by my side, dragging me to my feet.

“Jesus, Haven, you’re still clumsy as fuck. Guess some things never change,” he says, a laugh threaded through his words.

I pull myself out of his grip as my teacher walks closer. “Don’t touch me!” I hiss.

Kai turns his back on Professor Rooke, grabs my cardigan where it landed on the floor, and shoves it against my chest. “Put it on. Now. ” The last word is a quiet snarl.

I’m shaking as I back up, hands trembling as I somehow wrestle my arms through the sleeves. Then Kai’s grinning, picking up my bag and handing it to me as he turns to greet Rooke. “Morning, Professor.”

I must be gaping like a beached fish, because my teacher gives me a quizzical stare. “Everything all right, Miss Lee?”

“She tripped,” Kai says, holding out his hand. “Can I get you set up?”

Rooke’s eyes stay fixed on mine as he slips the strap of his satchel off his shoulder and hands it to Kai. “You may .”

“ May ,” Kai mutters sourly as he takes the bag and goes to unpack Professor Rooke’s things on the desk. I flinch when he starts whistling. I swear to God, it’s the same tune he used to whistle when we were kids.

Professor Rooke throws Kai a quick look, but his eyes are back on me a second later. “Kai, go get Miss Lee a cup of coffee from the cafeteria,” he says.

“The fuck?”

I can see Kai’s frown from the corner of my eye. I lift my chin and throw Kai a frosty glance. “Cream. No sugar.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kai’s grin looks forced as he pushes to his feet and heads for the door.

He lets it slam shut behind him, and Professor Rooke’s lips twitch at the loud bang. I almost drop my bag.