Catching my breath, I grab a pen and notebook from my satchel, pulling up the syllabus for this class on my phone, but before it loads, a woman in a pantsuit and heels struts into the hall, followed by a student who dives into the chair beside me.
“I thought you might want this.” I look up and see the guy from the coffee cart holding out a takeout cup that smells like my mocha.
I open my mouth to say thank you and to ask how the hell he knew I would be in this class, but the professor starts speaking and I nearly drop the cup again.
“I don’t know what unfortunate thing you did in a past life to end yourself up in my class, but know that this will not be fun. It will not be easy, and if you miss more than two lessons, I will cut you from the class and it will be an instant fail. Half-hearted input is not welcome in my classroom. I will expect you to work, and you will hate me for it. So before we get started, does anyone want to leave?” I stare at the dark-haired woman, her deep eyes boring into the souls of each of us momentarily as she scans the room.
I swear her intense stare turns my blood to ice, and as much as I want to run from this class right now, I’m too freaking scared to move a muscle.
When no one leaves, she smiles at the room, and it’s fucking terrifying. This woman should not smile. “Good. Welcome to Psychology as a Profession. I’m Professor Rainwater and you just passed your first test.”
* * *
With my brain feeling like cheese after a morning of Psych as a Profession and Intro to Statistics—which is an awesome start to the week…not—I’m ready to go back to my dorm and curl up in a ball. But I really need food. I’m severely lacking in sustenance today, and if I actually want to survive college, I can’t afford to forget to eat, despite the fact I’ve been living that way for years.
I pull my satchel strap over my head so it’s crossbody and bring up my maps on my phone to work out where the nearest grocery store is.
Feeling more than a little exhausted after my day's classes, I try to pay attention to my surroundings this time rather than run into someone else. Which is exactly how I spot Travis, Asher, Sawyer, and Cole on the quad with what looks like a bunch of frat guys who would happily suck their dicks, and sorority girls hanging from them, who look at them like they are the reason the Earth spins.
At least Cole has a top on now, even if it is a white t-shirt that clings to every ripped freaking inch of his dark skin.
Deciding today is not the day, and now is most definitely not the time, I attempt to keep my head down and rush past the group, but unsurprisingly, with how this day is going, I am not that lucky.
“Is this your new gold-digging whore of a leech?” one of the girls asks Travis, who looks at me with more hatred than I care to examine.
The girl steps into my path and I let out a deep sigh. “Excuse me,” I say, trying not to get sucked into their stupid little rich kid games.
She ends up being flanked by two of what I’m assuming are her sycophants and I look up to the sky, wishing for strength to deal with more petty rich bitches today. Because dealing with Penelope apparently isn’t enough.
“You don’t belong here, skank. You should leave now, before we make you,” the brunette to the right says, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh.
“I’m not sure you’d be able to fight dirty enough to make me do anything,” I say, rolling my eyes, wishing I could stop my mouth from moving. No such luck.
“What did you say, bitch?” the original girl says, raising her hand to slap me. Someone grabs her wrist before she gets the chance.
“She’s not worth it, Melody. She’s just a slut. She’ll be gone right along with her whore mother when my dad gets bored of her open legs. That’s all trash like her is good for. Don’t waste your energy.” Travis's icy words are like daggers in the back of my brain, triggering a memory I forgot I even had.
“That’s it, you piece of trash. Open your legs for me, just like your mama does. You two bit whores aren’t worth any more than that.” I scream as I try to fight off the drunken letch my mom brought home. I locked my door, but the flimsy frame snapped when he kicked at it.
I scream and call out for my mom, knowing it’s useless because she’s never saved me a day in my life.
The alcohol-smelling, stain-covered t-shirt-wearing, pot-bellied guy with his yellowing teeth laughs before he hits my face so hard I think I might pass out. “You can scream all you like, sweetheart. Your mama said you would pay for the goods I gave her. She’s enjoying them, while I get to enjoy you.”
He presses his body onto mine, despite me trying to punch and kick at him, but he just laughs as my body pushes against the mattress underneath his weight.
“Oh, I do like ‘em feisty.” His grin widens and I think I’m going to be sick. Of all the things my mom has done to me, this has to be the worst. “Even if you are just trash. This is all you’re good for. Now open your legs for me, sweetheart.”
I scream as he paws at me, but it’s only when the whoop of sirens on the street outside sound that he scrambles from the bed, zipping up his fly. “Good for nothing whore. Just like your mama. I’ll be back to collect the rest of my payment.”
He scrambles from the room and I curl up in a ball, hating him, my mom, and myself for not being stronger. For not fighting harder.
If it hadn’t been for that siren and the flash of lights, he would have raped me and there would have been nothing I could’ve done about it.
I shake my head, pulling myself from the darkness inside my own mind, and find everyone staring at me like I have three heads. The concern on Asher’s face makes me pause and that’s when I feel the wetness on my cheeks.
“Fuck all of you,” I hiss before turning on my heel and storming off in the opposite direction. Fuck them. Fuck him. Fuck all of this.
They have no idea what I survived to get here, and I might have stumbled here by accident, but I’ll be damned if they’re going to get rid of me that easily. Not when the possibility of a real future is in my grasp if I can just work hard enough to leave here with my degree. I stand up taller and turn back around to head to the grocery store, smashing into the first girl with my shoulder as I pass by, being just as much of a petty bitch as she is.