Bullied By My Alpha Stepbrother

Jason Davenport

My mind wandered as I leaned on a wall in the hallway.

Rory and I had finally decided to throw the party at his place instead, and it had been exactly what I needed. Yes, I’d felt uneasy in the beginning, but after I’d gone home and disposed of the bloodied sheets, I felt better.

Better and ready to party. And so far, apart from a terrible hangover, everything was going really great.

The project was due today, and we were each supposed to submit a written report about our experience working together.

Of course Amelia would be writing for the both of us. But I hadn’t seen the bitch today.

I frowned, hoping she wasn’t still sulking about the other day. God, that girl had to be the most dramatic one I’d ever met in my entire life.

And she better not have told anyone shit. What would she say anyway? I wondered, smiling. No one would believe her.

As if she had been hiding in the corners waiting for me to think of her, she emerged from the hallway. She hadn’t seen me yet, I could tell.

Trudging to her locker, she took out two notes from her school bag before dumping it in the locker.

She looked. . . tired, stressed, and so pale you’d think she was dying. I resisted the urge to hiss. Must she seriously take it to heart? This bad?

This was why I found girls annoying. Acting like they didn’t enjoy the sex when obviously you know they did. It’s not like she wouldn’t fuck other guys anyway.

Plus it was her first time. Everyone enjoys their first time. But of course, Amelia had to make it a big deal.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Dramatic bitch.

Heading towards class, she finally sighted me. To my dismay and surprise, she didn’t falter. As a matter of fact, she kept walking towards me, like I was invisible.

Standing two steps away from me, she took out a leaflet from one of the notes she held in her right hand and handed it to me without a word.

I snatched it from her, observing her curiously, a frown beginning to manifest on my face. I moved closer to her menacingly.

“Bitch, what did I tell you about making me wait?” I asked cracking my knuckles.

She didn’t cower in fear or glare at me in defiance or anger. She just stood there. Looking in my direction but not at me. Like I wasn’t even there.

I cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Answer me when I’m talking to you. What the fuck is wrong with you?” I muttered under my breath, not wanting to cause a scene in the hallway.

She didn’t say a word, just kept staring into space. Her eyes were droopy and tired but expressionless. Without a word she walked away, leaving me staring after her in shock and simmering anger.

Amelia Forbes

I couldn’t explain how I was feeling because I wasn’t really sure.

Yes, I felt tired. But I also felt like someone had punched my heart out. It was like I was in this emotional phase where I was just. . . blank. Not happy, not sad, just existing. Letting life take me wherever it deemed fit.

I could count the amount of words that had come out of my mouth since that day. I was simply too tired to talk, too tired to be scared, too tired to care.

When I’d met Jason this morning, I thought I’d be even more scared of him than I was before. But I guess I underestimated just how numb I felt. It didn’t really matter if he bullied me or called me names or beat me up.

What was there to be scared of when the worst had already happened?

I didn’t expect him to feel any remorse. I mean this was the same person that had blamed me for him raping me. But he acted like nothing had happened, and I could clearly see that the same event that traumatized me daily, was to him just another normal day.

And as he’d already forgotten about it, I’d carry it with me for the rest of my life.

So what did I have to be scared of?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

That terrible reality dawning on me for the second time in three days, I shook my head and opened my locker, shoving the books I didn’t need inside and grabbing the ones I needed for my next class.

As I was about to shut my locker, a figure approached me from the left. For sometime now, whenever someone approached me all of a sudden, a strange fear rumbles in my stomach, and I always feel like they’re about to harm me.

But I bit back a gasp-not wanting to cause a scene in school-and turned around, recognizing the figure as Benson.

I slowly released the breath I’d been holding. Okay, it’s just Benson.

Breathe, Mel. Breathe.

“Um, hey,” Benson said, glancing at me and then at his scruffy shoes.

I honestly didn’t have the energy to socialize. All I wanted was for everyone to just. . . leave me alone. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I just wanted to sleep. . .

“You okay?” Benson asked, after I hadn’t replied for a while.

I only nodded, shutting my locker and hoping he’d see that as a sign to leave.

“Are you sure? You look so pale. . .” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” I didn’t mean to yell. But it just came out that way.

Luckily the hallway was nearly empty and no one was paying attention to us.

“Jeez, I’m sorry Mel,” Benson whispered, a pained look on his face. “I just wanted to know how you were doing. You look so pale and tired, I just-”

“Stop, please.” I didn’t want to hear anymore. No one cared about me.

“Just stop, Ben. It’s no use pretending like you care now. I told you it’s too late for that now. Stop lying to me just to soothe your guilty heart. It’s not fair.”

This was the longest I’d spoken in a while, and it was tiring me out.

I glanced up as Benson just as his eyes glazed over. His lower lip shook as he muttered, “I really am sorry.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore, so I grabbed my books and walked away.