Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
People say that your house and your family are the place you feel the safest, where you belong. The place where you run to, to hide from the storm, to survive the hurricane.
But this is not a home.
It’s a tomb — a sophisticated, glamorized tomb that keeps up the illusion. But it’s a grave, nonetheless. And I’ve merely been rendered to a living corpse, waiting to be buried under this cursed land.
“Oh, look who’s hiding in the bathroom. Smelly, slimy Riley.”
Mocking voices snap me out of my drifting thoughts. Jenny and her circle of mean girls join me in the bathroom. Great, as if them tripping me earlier and having me spill my Bolognese spaghetti all over my uniform was not enough. Not that I was going to eat it, anyway. I don't have lunch at school. I never eat in front of anyone.
They think I eat.
But I’ve mastered the act of faking it.
When my photos and videos were leaked by Jakob, we only had a month left of Sophomore year. So, while the rumors spread like wildfire, the bullying wasn’t that bad. I was able to avoid it as much as I could. Anyway, I still had Elaine and Blythe on my side then.
And when summer came, I hid away. In my bedroom, surviving within my four walls.
If I wasn’t at home, my mother was dragging me to whatever modeling gig she could get her hands on or she was able to get me some random cameo roles in TV shows.
My summer was busy and away from Berkshire’s bullies. Everything was almost tranquil for a short period of time.
Except, that didn’t last long.
We had to return to school again and that’s when the real bullying began. The name-calling, more rumors — all of them fake, were spread, and then what started as verbal soon transcended into physical. My pinky still throbs with a phantom pain, a reminder of how it was fractured. The cast was removed two weeks ago.
After a while, it wasn’t just the students. The faculty of Berkshire Academy turned on me too. And that’s when I learned that once the number of bullies becomes large enough, it’s easy for the faculty to blame the victim both for psychological and practical reasons.
After all, I am the nexus of all trouble caused by the bullying, and regardless of whether it is my fault or not, it’s easy to blame me, the one who is always there when trouble happens. Especially when the majority of students are pushing the narrative that I am actually the one who is causing the problems.
So, at some point, I stopped reporting the bullies.
I stopped fighting back.
When I started my junior year four months ago, I became a social pariah at Berkshire Academy. But I was also a reject in my own home, with my own family.
An outcast, through and through.
“Did you clean your vagina properly this time?” Rita sneers, disdain apparent on her face.
“This is getting old now. Do yourself a favor and find a new rumor to spread,” I snap, glaring at Jenny and her “new” friends.
A few weeks ago, Jasper told his fellow football friends that the only reason he couldn’t bear to have sex with me again is because I have terrible vaginal odor.
Hence the nickname: Smelly, slimy Riley.
I cried the first time I heard the rumor, and then I laughed. Because the rumors were becoming more and more detailed, yet so inaccurate that I had to applaud their imaginations.
I try to move past them, but they block my path to the door. I roll my eyes, faking nonchalance, but icy fear spreads through my veins. Last time they ganged up on me like this, I went home with a black eye and a fractured pinky. It took a lot of makeup to cover the marks they left on my face.
“This is getting quite predictable now.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare them down. I don’t cower, because a Johnson never cowers. “Get out of my way.”
Jenny lets out a throaty, taunting laugh. “Or what? What can you possibly do, Riley?”
“Ganging up on me like this? Five against one? Who is the coward now, Jenny?”
My muscles tense because I know I’m making this worse for myself, fueling their hatred and their need to force me to my knees. It’s a game of authority — the ultimate power trip. To make me bend, to have me quaking and cowering at their feet.
To humiliate me.
“All of this for what?” I plaster my fake pageant smile on, knowing it will just piss them off even more. I refuse to beg for mercy.
They won’t break me.
They can’t break me.
“A tiny two-inch dick?” I continue, with a humorless laugh. “Please, Jasper is not that good of a lover for you to go that hard for him.”