Page 32 of Ruin

Fucking assholes. Judging me just because I wear what I want to wear, and don’t talk to anyone.

Right. These fuckers want to play? Then let’s play.

Today was not the best day to be wearing this outfit—a short skirt, stockings, but fuck it.

Declan wants everyone to see me dance?

I’m going to give them a show.

Are you sure?

“Let’s see it.” He gives me a wink.

I look over at everyone at the table and lock eyes with Stephanie, who is shooting daggers at me. She leans in closer to Declan, kisses his cheek, and whispers something to him. I get on the table, shaking my head when Declan puts his phone on the table, and the music starts.

Oh, this is the only song you could think of?I’m a slave for you, Britney Spears.

The beat kicks in, and I move my hips, not taking my eyes off Declan. My hand lifts above my head as I sway my hips from side to side. I trail my hands down my shoulders, sliding them down over my chest and down my sides. I grip the edges of my skirt, lifting it slightly to show off the tops of my stockings. Declan’s gaze drops to my thighs, and he smirks.

I spin around on the table, keeping the show going, giving him and the whole fucking school something to watch. Then I stop and drop to my knees in front of him, as if I’m about to crawl to him, but I freeze when I feel someone’s hand on my upper thigh.

I glance over my shoulder. One of the hockey players. Then I feel another hand.

As I whip my head back at Declan, his face is right in front of mine.

“Stop!” The demand makes me freeze on the spot. “Get down and leave.”

I sit back on my heels, my heart pounding. A few guys mutter how sexy my tattoos are, and they want a better look at them.

“You want to see them? Take a look.” I hear Declan say it, and I have no fucking idea what the fuck he means by that.

One of the players stands up and leans in closer, places his hand on my thigh. My body tenses.

“Let him look,” Declan demands.

The guy lifts my skirt slightly so he can see the skeleton hand holding a heart. The other hand on the tattoo holds nothing, because I have no idea what I want it to hold. Something I will get done later.

His fingers graze over the ink, moving higher.

This time I move.

I slam my forehead into his nose, sending a sharp, satisfying crack through the air.

I’m not letting some fucking asshole touch me just because Declan said he could.

“You fucking bitch!” the guy shouts, lunging at me.

Declan stops him.

“We don’t hit girls. There’s a line, and that’s fucking crossing it.” Declan growls, shoving him away from me.

I get off the table, and storm out of the cafeteria, not waiting for Declan to say another word. I wish he hadn’t stopped him. I would have loved to punch him in the face, get some of this rage out of my system.

Fucking assholes, all of them.

I still have English with Declan which is next period.

Thank god my day is almost finished. Then I can go anywhere, anywhere a man isn’t making me feel like I’m worthless.

---