Page 47 of Broken by my Bully
CRUEL!
On and on I go, my pen silent as I dredge up memories I didn’t realize I’d buried so deep.
I run out of steam and pause, pushing the pen in and out of its lid where I still have it trapped between my teeth. I stop when I miss my mark and stab myself in the lip.
“Fuck.” I swipe at my lips and turn to a new page. I’ve already filled six pages. I run my hand down the clean page, stalling for a long moment before putting pen to paper again.
Age: 4
Act: mom?—
There’s a rap on my car window. “Miss Lee?”
“Fuck!” I yelp, spinning to face the window. I swear I can feel the color draining from my face as I spot Professor Rooke standing outside my car.
Of course.
Because Haven’s an idiot and gets so lost bitterly rehashing the past that she forgets she’s a sitting duck. I reluctantly roll down the window, wincing when it squeaks loudly.
“Hi,” I mutter, squinting up at Professor Rooke.
He leans in, laying his arm on the top of my car. Thank God he’s on this side—there are still streaks of apple pie on the passenger door. The faint creases at the corners of his eyes deepen as he narrows them.
“We’re both going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”
I drop my gaze. “Yeah, um…”
“I see you’ve made some progress on your journal.”
My eyes flit back to him. He’s staring at the open book in my lap. I hurriedly snap it shut, and then slip it into my tote.
“Yeah, uh…” I mumble, because apparently I’ve lost the ability to speak in full sentences.
“Good. It almost makes up for the fact that you haven’t submitted your art assignment yet.”
Then he opens my car door and holds out an arm like he has every right to invade my fucking privacy, but he’ll be a gentleman about it. Which somehow activates my Disney princess mind-control setting, because I just grab my shit and get out. Like this is just a normal day in the life of a college kid, when he’s, in fact, walking me to the executioner’s block.
“Yeah, uh, my phone…”
He shuts my car door and then looks at me, waiting. “Aren’t you going to lock your car?”
“Ha! Like there’s anything to steal in there. Your shoes cost more than the car and everything in it.”
I spin away from him, feeling my face turn crimson.
Age: 19
Act: girl calls herself out like a loser
Intent: who the fuck knows
Impact: utter mortification
Interpretation: Haven can’t handle her shit in front of her hot professor and only has herself to blame
CRUELLAME
He says nothing, because not everyone at this college is a sadist. I try to fan myself without him noticing. We head for the main campus building, his heavier footfalls bracketing mine as I take two steps for each of his. I blame my flip-flops. One of them is on its last flop, and I keep having to wiggle my toes around to keep it on my foot.
