Page 176 of Broken by my Bully

I WISH I NEVER MET U

I FUCKING HATE U

BURN IN HELL

But Haven wants what Haven wants, and she’s a little fucking bitch if she doesn’t get her way. So I scrawled back a response on the same piece of paper and mailed it the fuck back to her.

I shove the paper back inside the envelope and hesitate before cramming it into my pocket with the cash.

Then I go back to the tote bag for more, feeling my way around in the dark. Books, more books, a pen that pokes the tip of my finger, then…

Fucking gold.

I’m holding a spiral-bound notebook.

ACTIVITY LOG

Fuck. I could turn on a light and read this shit straight away, but then I’d be a sitting duck for anyone who looked my way. Right now, I’m obscured by shadows.

I could do anything in the dark.

So I take out my cock and relive every second of what just happened upstairs.

And fuck me, the replay is even better.

Haven can hate me all she wants, but her body knows who it belongs to.

My girl’s pussy gets wet for one person, and one person only.

The boy who taught her how good pain feels.

Haven

I barely slip past Melissa undetected, hiding in the shadow of an open door further up the hall from our room. I’ve learned to become invisible when I need to. Another Riverside survival skill these rich kids would never understand.

Only when I hear the toilet flush and hear my new roommate flick off the bathroom’s light, do I dare peek out.

She doesn’t look in my direction.

After five slow counts, I sneak into the bathroom, clutching the front of my ruined dress closed with my hand, grimacing at the feel of my cum-soaked panties. I slip into the shower as soon as the water is warm enough to bear, and peel my underwear off with a grimace.

Hot water stings the cut on my ribs and the prick on my throat, and makes the bite mark on my tit ache and throb. I need slow five counts to work up the courage to look down and assess the damage. With the blood already washed off, the knife wound on my torso looks like a tiny little tear in my skin.

Not wide, not deep.

So why does it hurt so fucking much?

The bite marks on my breast are red and angry looking, butit doesn’t look like he punctured my skin. I hiss when I touch myself, though. That’s gonna bruise.

There’s a bar of soap in here that one of the sorority sisters must have left behind. I lather up every inch of my skin, even my hair.

Especially between my legs, my cunt’s pH balance be damned.

I want him off me. Gone. Every trace.

I scrub harder. Like I’m trying to erase fingerprints from a crime scene.

Like I’ve done before, too many times. Kai’s stains aren’t permanent. I’ve washed off worse.