by Mya West
Ryland Academy Rules
Complete Series
Mya West
Contents
Title Page
Beauty and the Bully
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Thomas Winters
The Ritual
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
The Beast-ess
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Beauty and the Bully
Ryland Academy Rules
Book 1
Mya West
Prologue
Thomas Winters
Thomas Winters was careful not to get any blood on himself when he plucked the crumpled white envelope from the hand of the recently deceased. He never liked blood, even if it was him who’d spilled it.
He looked down at the poor young woman and felt a sense of guilt. Winters didn’t always enjoy what he did for a living. She was pretty, but he had orders. Anybody who read the letter, had to be taken care of.
It was odd though. Her name wasn’t on the list of those he had to visit. Nonetheless, she knew of the letter, and had read it, which sealed her fate.
He took out a key from the envelope and slipped it in his dark jogging pants pocket. He unfolded the letter and read:
My name is Noelle Mavin. If you're reading this, I’m dead. Jaxson Davis, Chase Aldridge and Lancelot Cain are not who they appear to be.
Winters had read enough. He took out a cellphone, dialed a number and waited.
“Hello.” A deep voice answered.
It took less than one ring for him to pick up. He was anxious to know the news. It made Winters smile. “It’s me. I’ve got the key and the letter. She did read it.”
The man hummed deeply. “So, did you take care of it?”
“As instructed.” Winters thought about explaining that the young woman wasn’t the person he was looking for but had read the letter. He knew he wouldn't care about the finer details like that. He cared about results, which is why he liked Winter's services.
“Make sure to clean house before you leave.”
“Understood.” Before Winters could say another word, a loud dial tone rang in his ear. Once he had his orders, his superior never stayed on the phone.
Clean house, Winters thought to himself, and laughed. Truly, this house needed cleaning. He looked around the decrepit home. Some of the windows were broken. The floor looked as if it had never been swept. The stove appeared inoperable. Nobody would miss this home.
He wondered briefly, who would miss the young woman.
Autumn Darling. Such a strange name.
He slipped the cellphone in his pocket and to his dismay, saw a speck of blood on his leather glove. His face soured and he walked over to the sink, washing his hands with soap until he felt his gloves were clean.
Winters exited the front door, looking around the neighbourhood before making a full exit. The area looked as disgusting as the home. He walked over to his stolen car, opened the trunk, grabbed two canisters of gasoline.
Two drunks walked past him, laughing hysterically, not even acknowledging Winter's presence. Winters smiled to himself. This would be an easy place to do his business, he thought. Nobody seemed to notice or care about a guy walking around with two gas cans.
Winters spread the gasoline inside the home strategically, saving a quarter of a can for the body. He poured the remaining gas generously over her until there was nothing left. He took off a glove and grabbed a box of matches from his pocket.
Winters looked down at his victim one last time. He was slightly annoyed at her, because of the blood on his glove but he managed to put those feelings aside.
“Goodbye, Darling.” He lit a match, tossed it and made a prompt exit.
Chapter 1
Elle
One Month Prior
I anxiously wait for the social worker to return to his office with paperwork. He seemed like a jovial man when he first introduced himself in the hallway before asking me to join him in the office. I wonder how somebody could look so happy when working with people - well like me.
A picture frame on his desk is slightly tilted in my direction. I turn it and notice the social worker again, smiling, this time accompanied by his two small children and young wife. I smile. I’m not sure if it’s the contagious grins of everyone in the picture, or because it makes me realize how different the social worker is from me.
He isn’t someone who’s experienced true trauma, like most that live here. He probably drove an hour from some small town outside the city, to work with people like me. He’s an outsider trying to pretend to be one of us. Pretending like he could help.
That’s a stupid thought.
I remind myself that he could help. He could literally save me. I hate the idea of being someone in my position. I hate being in his office. I’m the person looking for a hand out. The person needing a new home to live in. He’s my gatekeeper, but who is he to judge?
I suppose dealing with this outsider would be better than going back home. Ever since I turned eighteen, things have gotten worse, much worse.
The night before I was sound asleep, my window partially open. The sounds of the cars passing, sirens blazing, and random shouts were melodic for me, and always have the power to rest my mind enough to drift to sleep. Suddenly I woke as if someone had shoved me hard, but no one was in my room. I calmed myself, realizing I must have had some sort of nightmare and tried to sleep. I tried and listened to the sounds of the street to soothe me back to rest.
It’s the sound of a slow screech that makes me open my eyes again now. The sound stops and I turn my head towards my bedroom door. A wooden chair is tilted under the doorknob and floor, but that doesn’t stop whoever from trying to get inside.
The doorknob turns slowly, making the high pitch screeching sound. My eyes widen. If anybody were watching, I would seem like a deer in headlights, but under my sheets I was reaching for a large kitchen knife under my pillow.
“Sorry about the wait, Elle.” The social worker says, breaking my terrible daydream. The creek his office door makes when it opens startles me as he enters. He sits at his desk and faces me with that smile still plastered on his face. “I usually keep copies at my desk, but unfortunately we have been busy. Don’t worry though, we do have room here at the emergency women’s shelter if it’s determined that you meet the criteria for our services.” His smile fades for a moment. “I hate how that sounded so cold.” I nod my head with understanding. “Anyways, let’s start filling out some paperwork. Can I have your full name please?
”
I sigh. “Noelle Carmen Maven.” He slowly writes down my name while raising an eyebrow.
The social worker drops the pen on top of the paperwork and looks at me coldly. “Maven? Are you related to Ron Maven by chance?” His permanent smile is a distant memory.
I nod my head. “He’s my father.”
The social worker nods back. “I see.” His bottom lip stiffens. The social worker opens a drawer and slowly places my paperwork in it, shutting it. “As I mentioned before, we are pretty full here. I can give you some referrals for other community programs like ours that may have openings.” The social worker stands up, cueing me that our short meeting was over.
“Wait.” I say remaining stuck on my seat as if glued there. “You said you would have openings, room for me. I mean you just said-”
“I’m sorry Mrs. Maven, I can’t make an exception.”
“Because of my father?” The social worker is taken aback by my candid question. “I’ve been to the other shelters in this city. They either didn’t have room or flat turned me down. You’re my last stop.”
The social worker looks at me coldly, as if I’d stolen something dear from him. “Even if I wanted to let you in the shelter, I couldn’t, for your safety. Some of the women living here are a direct or indirect result of your father.”
“I’m not my dad!” I raise my voice. My anger is the only thing keeping a tear from forming. “I’m not my family.”
The social worker’s expression softens. His true caring personality is exposed again, but he looks at me in pity. “Maybe some of the girls here will understand that, but many won’t. Word will travel quickly that you are Ron Maven’s kid. Then you will need another emergency shelter to protect you from the line of women who will want to kick your ass, or worse.”
I stand up. This meeting is truly over. I should have known this would be the outcome.
I turn to walk out the door when the social worker grabs my shoulder. “If you want my advice, leave town. Go somewhere where nobody knows who you are, or what your family does.”
“I’m trying to pass high school to get into some type of college.”
“That’s good.” The social worker opens a different drawer and hands me a brochure. “If you get the grades, here is a list of scholarships that are open to, people who-”
“Are poor as hell, thanks. And I do have the grades.” I say to him challengingly, although I’m not sure why. It could be that I wanted him to know not everybody here is some victim looking for a handout for their rest of their lives. Some of us want to earn it.
I walk outside the shelter and see Candice leaning against the brick building, blowing a large gum bubble. She pops it when she notices me and fixes her short plaid skirt. Candice always looks like she’s working, with her skimpy outfits and innocent demeanour. I’m not sure if she realizes it anymore. She may have an occupation that I don’t agree with, but Candice Owens is my best friend, maybe my only friend left.
I had many friends, but as they got older and realized who my father was, they seemed more interested in getting his attention then keeping mine. Candice is the last of the friends I made in high school who is truly on my side.
She walks over to me with a cautious look. “You don’t seem happy. Are you happy? Is this a happy face?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s an I don’t give a fuck face.”
Candice nods her head. “At the beginning of September, I get my own place. I’ve saved up enough for a few month’s rent. You could sleep in the living room.”
“And be your freeloading roommate? I don’t think so.”
“Come on! It will be fun!”
“Only if you come to school with me.” I say smiling.
Candice rolls her eyes. “I’m done with that scene. I make more money out here.” She waves her hands around the streets, and on cue an older man walks by her. She smiles at him and he looks back as her with a cringeworthy smile.
“Ugh. I don’t know how you do- that,” I say, nodding my head towards the old creep.
Candice smiles. “Guys like that are harmless. They just want a good screw to make them happy for a few minutes before going back home to their crappy marriage. They pay the best too.”
“You could do much better at school. Go to some community college or something.”
Candice waves her head. “Do you know how much I made last night?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“If I tell you maybe you would join me. We could work this area together. Be a safety net for each other.”
“Candice! I hate it when you try and recruit me. I don’t want you to be my pimp.”
She laughs. “This is just temporary. I’m young. I may as well use it to my advantage. Once I save enough, I can move out of this shithole city. Go somewhere where nobody knows me and pretend this was all just one long nightmare.” I wonder if Candice got the same pep talk from the social worker. “And when I leave this place, I can bring one freeloading friend with me, if she accepts.”
I wave my head. “I’m close to finishing school. Our senior year starts in a few days. All I have to do is make it to the end of the school year and find some university that will accept me, far away from here. I can put up with one more year of this shit.” I spoke confidently about my plan but aren’t sure if I’m trying to reassure Candice or myself. I look at Candice and smile. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you on the first day of school?”
Candice waves her head and smiles. “Yeah, nope.” She smiles again. “It may sound bad saying this but, I have a good feeling.”
“About what?”
“We are both going to get out of this city. We are both going to get what we want. I guess we just have different ways of getting there.”
I manage to produce a thin smile. “Candice, I just hope your way of doing things ends sooner rather than later. I can’t imagine how many creep old balls have been around you.”
She laughs again. “You get used to it, strangely.” She turns to face me and grabs my hands. “And stop calling me Candice!”
I wave my head. “I’m not calling you by some made up hooker name.”
“That’s something coming from you Noelle!”
“Noelle is a ridiculous name! I shortened it to save everyone from saying it out loud.”
Candice laughs and starts singing the Christmas song ‘Noelle’, and I strike her in the shoulder.
Candice rubs her shoulder, feigning pain. “What happened to stick and stones, Noelle?”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off Candice!” Candice stops all movements and stares at me coldly. “Okay, sorry. Fuck off Autumn Darling. Is that better?”
She grins. “Much.”
Chapter 2
I sneak into my home and don’t wake up any of the doped-up houseguests while doing so. I sigh a breath of relief when I notice the home is basically empty. I walk past one of father’s workstations. A tube of some type of chemical is shattered across the desk. A canister that reads ‘highly combustible’ is on a shelf over an unlit candle. Someone might think my dad is a careless scientist instead of a cook for a meth lab.
I unlock my bedroom door and throw my backpack on my bed. I lock the door immediately and place the wooden chair under the doorknob and the floor. I lay on my bed and take out a book I borrowed from the library. I smell a faint smell of body odor on my sheets and wonder if someone has been in my room while I was gone. I start reading, and immediately feel immersed in the story. It’s a romance novel about a handsome prince who sets out on an adventure to save his betrothed, who was kidnapped by an evil lord.
The fast jerking of my bedroom doorknob breaks my fantasy.
“What have I told you about locking this door Noelle!” I don’t have to open the door to know that my dad is pissed off about something. It didn’t take much to get him riled up these days. He didn’t have a great disposition before getting hooked on drugs, but his addiction doesn’t help. The idea of not getting high on your own
supply wasn’t a business motto.
I quickly open the door and apologize. “Hey dad.”
He looks at me coldly “Where did you go?”
“I was out with Candice.”
His face sours. “The whore? I told you to stop hanging out with that bitch.” As if my dad is one to judge other’s characters. “I told you I needed your help today.”
“Sorry,” I plead with him. “I must have forgot.”
“You are pretty fucking forgetful these days. You even forget whose house this is. You live here, you’re expected to help out.” I nod my head, knowing it would be stupid to say or do anything else.
James Richardson walks up beside my father and smiles at me. His crooked teeth seem to be facing multiple different directions. “You’re too easy on her Ron. Girl deserves a spanking for being a little shit.”
A waft of body odor attacks my nostrils. It was the same odor on my sheets. I try not to cringe when he looks at me. I think about telling my dad about him trying to get friendly with me in the middle of the night, but my father laughs at his joke.
Dad hands me a heavy brown bag. “Take that to Mike Townley. You know where he lives, right? You’ve delivered there before.”
I sigh. “Dad, I can’t keep doing this. I’m eighteen now. It’s different.”
Dad laughs. “Don’t look in the bag baby doll. You’re just giving them some leftovers. You know Mike has four kids. Every bit helps.”
Something tells me what’s in the brown bag isn’t wrapped sandwiches for Mike’s four little brats, nor is it very edible.
“Can’t mom do this one?” I ask.
Dad looks at me coldly again. “Your mom is sick today. I can’t do it, you know that. Look, you do this, and I’ll give you some money and you can go out tonight. We’re having a party tonight anyways. You can even go out with your slutty friend too.”
James smiles. “Or you both can come to the party.”
My dad looks at him with a dark face. “What I fucking tell you, Rich? She’s eighteen.”
He smiles again. “Exactly.”
My dad looks back at me, fishes out a roll of bills from his pocket and hands it to me. “Just leave, Noelle. Sleep out tonight at a friend’s house or something.”
