You're a-typical nerdy, book worm Bella with a little Jock ownage going on. Someone gorgeous has got dibs on our innocent little Bella and he just loves to make her life a living hell. But will he go too far? AHAU; slightly OoC.
Disownage of the characters all that jazz; they all belong to Stephenie Meyer.
There was no greater fear that I had.
There was no greater enemy that I had.
There was no greater hatred that I had than for this prison I had to endure every single day, until my graduation, which is unfortunately two years – too far – away.
You don't know the feeling of walking up and down the corridors, fearing for your own safety. You wouldn't understand the humiliation you felt when you're the only one being victimized by the highest of all the thrones in this pitiful excuse for a high school.
There were the others of course. The cheerleaders and your typical preps. They were all just as cynical and rude and nasty towards me, but not like your Jocks. It was like I was some sort of magnet for their constant pranks and I was the target to humiliate, constantly. I am their pet; I am their excuse; I am their target; I am their source of fun.
Especially to him.
He was alone today. It wasn't abnormal – he sometimes went off on his own after his morning practice. He's the track star. All the teachers and all the coaches love him. All the girls swooned over him and all the guys appreciated his work. Everyone had some kind of praise for him.
How could you praise someone who pushed you around on a daily basis and got away with it just because he is who he is? He gets by on that. I'm treated like shit by everyone; but he had some sort of sick claim on me. I did his algebra homework; I was the special nerd that always helps him cheat on his tests; I buy his lunch; I'm bossed around by him like no other, and oddly, (he tells me I should feel privileged, but I can tell you I feel anything but when he pulls up to my house and acts like the perfect gentleman to my mother) he takes me to the school dances when he doesn't want to go with the preppy bitch he last fucked.
And he just happened to be walking my way.
I ducked my head into my locker, shutting my eyes tight. You know that feeling? How if you have no place to run or hide, you feel like if you just shut your eyes tight you'll be safe or feel hidden? This feeling was my last resort at the moment.
I fought back a hiss of anger as his large hand rested on the small of my lower back. I turned around, shutting my locker door with far more force than necessary. Still, it only made me look weaker; the bang of my locker didn't even ricochet off the other lockers like he could make it when he was angry.
You've yet to see something so mind-bogglingly lethal happen right before you until you've seen Edward Cullen go off on one of his rampages. I've witnessed plenty and most were my fault. It's funny how I took pride in that when any other girl would fall to her knees and weep to upset someone so…
He grinned crookedly at me.
Cocky. He was your typical Jock Cock.
I frowned, glaring daggers at the tiled floor. I was fuming silently, but I tried to hide it. He'd once told me I looked like a kitten when I was angry. A kitten who believed she was a ferocious lion, when I tried telling him off once. That was a pathetic failure on my part.
"What?" I said rather quietly for the anger that was boiling just beneath the surface.
I hated how my eyes danced everywhere but to look at his face. He was so just so fucking intimidating. I absolutely hated him. And just know now that I do believe hate is a very strong word. I don't toss it around normally, but he… he made me want to spit it in his face.
"Finish my homework, nerd?" He leaned against the locker next to mine.
"Yes," I said blatantly, throwing his algebra at him (see it's funny because he's a junior and he's still stuck in algebra), turning before I could see if he caught it. I hoped he wouldn't. At least, if he bent over to retrieve it, he'd be doing some sort of work for it. He did catch it though apparently, because he was keeping pace with me way too easily as I nearly jogged to get as far from him as physically possible in this tiny school.
"Hey, slow down there, girly," he chuckled.
I didn't, purposely doing the opposite.
"Aw, don't be like that," he said, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him. There wasn't anybody in the hallway unfortunately, so that gave him free reign to do whatever he pleased. I bit my lip, trying to hide the obvious terror in my eyes. I didn't want to speak; he'd get a kick out of my trembling voice.
He was such a fucking bastard.
I gulped as he took a step closer to me. Lately he'd been a lot more… forward. Like he wanted much more than just his algebra homework.
It grossed me out, honestly. I took a step back from him.
He frowned angrily, advancing towards me again. "Would you stop that," he said, grabbing my forearm and pulling me to him.
I yelped from the force, trying not to smell the potent smell of cologne on his skin and the fresh scent of detergent coming from his V-neck. He smelt delicious, especially his breath. It was minty ice smelling and it took all of the restraint in the world not to lean in and take a giant whiff of him. He smelt like Heaven and Hell all in one and I want to kick him in his man pride region for it.
"Thanks for the homework," he murmured lowly in my ear.
I shivered, not from pleasure, but from repulsion. I glared at him.
He smirked as he leaned away from me, tucking his giant hands into his pockets. "I'll drive you home today after school, nerd."
"I can walk."
"Are you crazy? It's below zero out. I wouldn't want my little nerd to catch a cold." He laughed.
I sighed. "Would you just leave me alone?" I turned to walk away. He followed.
I eyed the girls' restroom just down the corridor. He couldn't possibly follow me in there. I didn't like the idea that I was running from my problems, but hell, it's exactly what I was doing. I was quite literally scarred by this boy and he didn't even think twice about what he did to me every single day of my life since what feels like the very dawn of time. Actually, it was since I first moved her from Phoenix in the seventh grade. I've never known anything different since then.
I made a break for it as I ran but he caught me, his muscled arms shoving me into a row of lockers painfully. My head slammed into them and I winced, reaching up to rub the throbbing of my forehead.
I didn't turn to look at him but instead kept my face planted to the cold of the lockers. I couldn't decide whether or not it would be smart to run and have little to no chance of getting away then to stay and basically consent to the humiliation he was about to inflict.
"Quit fucking around," a low voice from the end of the hall laughed, along with others.
Great. More Jocks. Just the way to start my morning…
I turned, hand still placed on my throbbing forehead, to watch as the Jocks surrounded Edward. They slapped his back as they grinned at me, and Edward starred at me, smiling cockily. I frowned, looking to my feet and scolding myself, instantly feeling the shame bubble up to the tip of my nose for my reaction to these… jack asses.
"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?" the blonde haired boy, Jasper, tickled just beneath my chin with his fingers.
I turned my face away violently. "Don't touch me," I spat.
He laughed. "Feisty, are we?"
"Yes," I growled. "Now I said leave me alone!" I turned to run away.
"Aww," Edward called after me, "quit ruining the fun, Bella." He laughed and I could hear his footsteps close behind. The laughing and taunting of the others stayed behind, thank God.
I hate the way he says my name, too. Hate it.
I ran quicker, hoping to escape to the girls' room.
He ran around in front of me, quicker than I could have possibly imagined, and blocked the entrance to the restroom. I turned on my heel, desperate to flee. The auditorium was just across the hall… and I think play practice was still going on… He couldn't do anything to me there. What a coward and a damn fool I was.
Even though it was futile, I ran again.
He was there again, looking frustrated and very, very angry at me.
I backed away, terror visible in my eyes. I knew he could visibly see the terror in my eyes and it made me want to slap him. I was an open book to him. But I guess it's to be expected, he's my own personal piece of Hell come up to haunt me every day of my life.
He sighed, running his free hand that wasn't holding his (basically my) algebra homework through his unruly, unusual auburn-bronze colored hair. He looked especially tired this morning, something I failed to notice before as he was after the only thing he used me for, his homework. The dark circles under his eyes and his already pale complexion made him look especially ill.
He walked towards me lazily.
"Look," he said, resigned, "I just had morning practice, so if you would take it easy on the whole running away thing. It's not like I'm going to start beating you or something. I just wanted to talk. You know, Jocks and their nerds can do that every now and then."
"I'm not your nerd," I seethed, clutching my books tighter to myself. My face must have been red as a tomato, not from embarrassment but from the raw hatred I had for this boy. My cheeks were burning.
One of his brows quirked skillfully, "The hell you aren't."
I fumed, shaking my head. "What do you want?"
"To talk?" he asked innocently.
"About what?" Why did he have any business talking to me?
He seemed irritated as he glared at me. "Would you lose the tone?"
"You're not my mother."
"Ugh," he threw his hands up, charging towards me. He grabbed my forearms roughly and I squealed with surprise as he threw me against the brick wall. "I try to keep my cool with you but you're always smarting off," he whispered between clenched teeth close to my ear.
I couldn't help it; I trembled beneath his strength. He was terrifying when he wanted to be. Why was someone so beautiful like him always so quick to anger?
Sick of me to call him beautiful. Another reason to be ashamed of myself. That was twice today and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.
He loosened his grip as he noticed my trembling. I hated him thinking that he scared me, but he did. I was just so small compared to his six-foot-two and me only reaching five-foot-four if that. He lifted weights; the most I've ever lifted was his algebra book which wasn't very thick at all. I had the weakest looking muscles when I flexed. I knew I wasn't even capable of hurting a fly, but that was mostly because I had terrible hand-eye coordination and couldn't land the swatter on the fly to save my life.
I starred at him with what must have been saucer-wide eyes. What else could I have done? I wouldn't be able to fight him off if I tried. Just thinking about what he could do to me truly frightened me and I just wish… I wish that I wasn't so weak. I wish that I could stand up for myself without being scared out of my wits or receiving the worst humiliation imaginable.
He was starring down at me with such anger that I felt myself shrink. He swallowed noisily as he starred, his eyes dimming by the moment. His green orbs searched mine for the longest time before he let go, pushing me back up against the wall and turning away.
"Meet me at my car after school, nerd," he called over his shoulder.
Fine then, I thought bitingly, lifting my head high. I needed that false confidence I made up for myself. I needed some sort of self-esteem, even if it was just a complete joke. I didn't have much else.
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