Little Plaything: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  “Never touch me again. Don’t look at me. Don’t fucking talk to me. Forget I even fucking exist.”

  “Ariyal …” He takes a step toward me but stops when I hold my hands up to ward him off.

  “No.” My head shakes furiously as I rip the skirt off my body and throw it at his face. I don’t care about my nakedness as I hurriedly search for my clothes. He catches it with a stupefied expression. “You can keep this piece of shit, too, because I will never wear anything you create. I want nothing to do with you, Brett, or Dorran. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

  He can keep this piece of shit, because I’ll never wear something his disgusting family owns, let alone what he did. Too bad, though, because I truly love his sense of fashion. It called to the deepest part of me, like we were meant to be.

  Quickly dressing, I push past him and nearly rip the door off its hinges. When I step out, seeing both Brett and Dorran standing there with shit-eating expressions on their face, it makes me snap. They’ve pushed, and pushed, and pushed. I’m sick and tired of being the butt of their jokes. Sick and tired of being treated as if I’m just another notch in the bedpost of girls they fuck around with.

  Narrowing my eyes, I pin each of them with a look that can kill. “Touch me, talk to me, or even look in my direction again, and I swear to God it will be the last thing you do.”

  “Is that a threat?” Brett asks, his expression souring.

  “It’s a goddamn promise. I don’t want you anywhere near me. I’m not your little plaything; I’m not a toy you can use, then discard. I’m not some whore you can get your rocks off with,” my voice chokes on emotion toward the end, but instead of allowing it to get to me, I clear my voice and pretend it doesn’t matter.

  “Ariyal …” Chaz tries once more, but all he gets in return is daggers for eyes. I’m through with all of their shit.

  They have no idea the shit I’ve been through. Everything I had to fight for or against back in New Jersey. They’ve been given everything since the first moment they drew their first breath. I’ve had to fight, survive—do things I never thought I would do to make it. No one will ever take anything else from me again.

  “Forget my name. The second I leave here; I’m going back to that school and putting in a transfer to another dorm. If I can get far away from any of you, it still won’t be far enough.”

  Pushing past them, I run into Kamila. Her eyes peer into me, filled to the brim with worry as she glances past me to stare at them. But I don’t care. I’m done for the day, and I want nothing more than to get back to my dorm so I can pack my things. Since it’s painfully obvious, I won’t be able to leave this very instant, the least I can do is move somewhere else. I don’t care if I have to sleep under a tree. As long as I’m not within the vicinity of them, I’ll be perfect as pie.

  “This is your last chance, brat,” Brett seethes from behind me. “Either give in, or we’ll force your hand.”

  Anger bubbles up inside of me, so much so, I turn around and flip him the bird. “Force this, asshole.”

  Grabbing Kamila by the elbow, I escort her outside and to the car idling by the curb. She says nothing as we get inside; she says nothing all the way back to school. Instead, she offers me a proverbial emotional shoulder to cry on, even if that means her staying quiet as I lean my head against the window, watching as the trees whizz by the car.

  She gets it. I hate that she does, but she gets it. She knows how those guys can be, and she tried to advise me. But like a fool, I didn’t listen to any of her warnings. Instead, I did my thing. And my thing almost got me fucked by one of my enemies.

  Well, it won’t happen again. Because by the time they get back from town, I won’t even be there in Kingston House. I’ll be long gone, possibly staying with Kamila.

  It sounds like a good plan. Except, the churning in my stomach tells me, otherwise.

  CHAPTER 13

  Anger, like nothing I’ve ever felt before, whizzes through my veins. It’s like they have dipped my entire body into the lake of fire in Hell, but even still, it’s not as blazing as the blood running through my veins.

  They actually believe I will stand for this. That I’ll be just like all the other girls in this godforsaken school and let them run all over me. They may be hot, but they’re not Gods—I’ll do any goddamn thing I want, and they won’t be able to have a say in the matter.

  “You will get the fuck out of my way or I’ll make you move,” I seethe, glaring at the mountain of a man in front of me.

  They have no idea the level of depravity I can reduce myself to. I’ll fuck this giant of a man up, then be on my way before RPA serves lunch in the cafeteria.

  “No can do, Ms. Nikohls,” he replies, smiling softly. Fuck that smile, I’m about ball-bust this bastard. “Mr. Kingston said to keep you here on the premises until he and his friends return.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about him and his friends; they’re bastards.”

  Brett’s man-toy (a.k.a bodyguard) narrows his eyes in warning. “I suggest you give Mr. Kingston the level of respect he deserves.”

  Respect? He’s got to be kidding me. Brett only deserves one thing, and it’s not respect. It’s castration. The little fucker has been coming at me since the first day I came here, and today is the last straw. I refuse to allow him to treat me like this; I’m not a girl vying for his affections. I’m a girl that wants nothing to do with him.

  Huffing, I drop my bag on the floor beside me. I need to think of a way out of this, because there has to be something. He may guard the door, but that doesn’t mean he can guard more than one place at once. There has to be another way out; like an escape hatch or emergency exit like apartment buildings have.

  I’ve seen them before, and I know, to keep up with code, RPA has to have them as well. Narrowing my eyes on the guard, I slam the door in his pleased face and start my search. Making my way over to the floor to ceiling windows, I press and push on the glass. I haven’t had a reason to do this before, so I didn’t think to do it until just now.

  With each push, my hope of getting out of here dwindles. So much, the tears from earlier burn my eyes, and this time, I can’t stop them from falling. Hot, wet tears trek down my cheeks, to slip off my chin and land on my shirt.

  “There has to be a way out of here,” I choke up, pushing harder.

  Making my way across the glass, it isn’t until I get to the last panel, I notice a button of sorts, almost hidden from view. Craning my neck, I peer at it, then back toward the window, before throwing caution to the wind and pushing it. To my surprise, the window in front of me breaks apart from the others with a whoosh, before sliding into the wall closest to the bar.

  My heart triple beats inside my chest, and I hesitantly lean out the window. My eyes look toward the eastern side of the building. Happiness diminishes when I don’t see a ladder to crawl out onto, but when I peer to the right, a large smile breaks across my face. My entire body buzzes with adrenaline and optimism.

  There’s a pipe planted against the side of the building with hinges holding it in place. I can easily climb down that way. I’ve seen people do it before, albeit in movies. But that shouldn’t matter.

  Before I lose my nerve, I race over to collect my things, then back toward the window. Taking another look outside, I toss my bag onto the ground. I couldn’t care less if all my shit breaks, just as long as I get out of this building and away from these assholes. I don’t even care if I end up breaking my neck on the way down.

  No, I take that back. I really do care. But it would be worth it if I didn’t have to see them more than I have to.

  I take one last look around, to make sure I have forgotten nothing, then heave myself up on the windowsill. The moment I look down, that’s when my vision dims and sharpens to the point of nausea. I don’t have a fear of heights, but that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified. My heart is nearly pounding out of my chest, and it literally hurts to breathe, my lungs constricting in fear.

  My
phone chirps in my back pocket, but instead of answering it, I focus on not falling. Moving one inch at a time, I carefully grab ahold of the pipeline. I give it a little shake, testing its strength, and find it durable enough to hold my weight. Only a crazy person would do this, and funnily enough, I’m that crazy. I’ll do anything to take my freedom back, even if I have to shimmy down a pipe.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I go for it. I swing out of the window and free hang until I can get my footing. My muscles burn from the strain. It’s been a long time since I used those muscles, and it shows, because I’m severely out of shape. Huffing, I get a good grip on the pipe and plant my feet on the hinges, looking like some newbie firefighter who's on their first day of the job.

  Loud voices and scathing remarks catch my attention seconds before my door opens. My gaze swings that way, seeing Brett two shakes shy from leveling the place. His face is red, hands fist by his sides, and he’s stomping toward me with a look of rage.

  “Get your goddamn ass back in here, brat!” he thunders, but still, I ignore him and start shimmying down the pipe.

  The need to get to the ground and grab my stuff before he and the others can get down there overwhelms me. It’s more than a ten-foot drop, so I need to be careful, but still get down as fast as I can. There’s no way I can go back in there; not with him inside and the others God knows where. I simply can’t. I need to get as far away from this dorm as possible, and I need to do that safely as to not hurt myself in the process.

  “Fuck off, Kingston!”

  My hair whips against the side of my face, the early fall wind howling angrily. Trees bend and bow behind me, like they’re against me putting myself in harm's way. What can I do, though? Brett literally left me no choice. I refuse to stay in a dorm, surrounded by all three of them, waiting for one to fool me into believing he likes me.

  I’m not a fool.

  I’m not vying for their attention and affection.

  No one will clip my wings and force me to stay. I’m my own person, and I’ll forge my own way.

  Hesitantly, I make my way down the pipe. My eyes have been on my feet the entire time, but when I chance a glance upward toward my dorm window, I choke on saliva when I find it empty. My heart stalls in my chest as I double my efforts. With each inch, my heart marginally falls back into place. The ball of anxious energy dissipates.

  I get closer and closer to the ground—the end in sight—and a smile breaks out across my face. Freedom. It’s a heady feeling. It causes tingles to shoot up my spine, so much I start feeling lightheaded.

  With one step, then two, I find I’m close enough to the ground to drop safely. Lord knows where the guys are inside the building. All I do know is they have to punch in their numbers or slide their cards to get through the elevator and two sets of doors. That gives me enough time to gather my things and run off.

  I already know that Kamila lives in the dorm furthest from mine. I’ll show up there, hoping she can take me in until I can figure out this mess on Monday. The headmaster won’t be able to rebuke my claims. Everyone saw the bodyguard walk into the building, and I know they will put two and two together when they see me running away from the Kingston House.

  Looking down, I see I’m safely within range. With my heart in my throat and my lungs stinging from no use, I let go. Dropping onto the ground, my legs scream in shock at the harsh landing. However, instead of focusing on that, I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and push past the pain as I race off toward Kamila’s dorm.

  The bag on my back weighs me down, but it’s not like I can drop it and let them have it. I need everything in here; my uniforms, extra clothes, textbooks—there’s literally everything in this bag I need. I can’t afford to lose it.

  Panting, I come to a stop near the corner of the building and carefully look around the side. I take a few seconds to see if anyone is there, and when I find no one, I push with everything inside me and pound the ground in my haste to get away. At this pace, I’ll be to Kamila’s building in just a few minutes.

  However, the moment I jump off the grass and onto the concrete walkway, a large weight slams me from behind, taking us both to the ground. I don’t stop to see who it is, nor do I care. I twist, turn, and kick out with all my might. A deep grunt sounds from behind when my boot makes solid purchase against something.

  I growl like a feral animal cornered in her cage. “Get the fuck off me!”

  “I’d rather get off in you,” A low menacing voice barks in my ear. Dorran. Stupid motherfucker.

  “What is wrong with you?” I cry out, shifting as I try to get away from him.

  A second later my bag is forcibly ripped off me and tossed to the side, it’s large weight thumping against the ground. Dorran maneuvers me until I’m on my back, staring up into his eyes as he settles between my thighs. He holds my arms above my head, and no amount of twisting and fighting will make his grip relent. His penetrating stare claims mine, holding it hostage.

  “You.” His eyes turn into slits of heat. “Ever since you got here, you’ve been walking around like a little bitch that thinks she’s better than everyone. You. Are. Nothing.”

  “Then why try so hard to get into my pants?”

  He bares his teeth in a sneer. “It’s a matter of principle, darling. You shunned us for the last time, and if you don’t want things to get even more difficult for you, then this is your last chance to give in.”

  Silently, I stop fighting and lie still, perusing him. Something about his statement, and the way he voiced it, doesn’t sing true. It’s as if he’s trying to appear as a dick, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth. It seems to me that Dorran is just as caught up in this as I am, and he honestly doesn’t want to be here.

  “You’re lying.” I watch his eyes marginally round in shock, before settling back into a heated, narrowed stare.

  His grip on my arms tightens, almost to the point of pain. “You know nothing.”

  Two sets of heavy footsteps pound on the ground, growing closer. But my eyes never break away from Dorran’s. There’s a pain in his heated gaze I know he’s trying to keep away from me; from everyone. I just wish I knew why. Why they’re doing any of this.

  Any of the girls at this school would love to be in my shoes, but I’m constantly trying to fight my way to freedom. I don’t want to tether myself down or have anyone else do it for me. It’s not fair, or just. No one is doing it to them.

  “I don’t know how I can explain this and make you understand,” I say, licking my lips. His eyes drop to the movement, darkening. “But I’m not like all the other girls you guys play with. I have a mind; a choice that I can make of my own free will. Money doesn’t ground me, and power doesn’t scare me.”

  Dorran’s grip tightens, and this time, I can’t stop the whimper of pain from his hold. My back bows into his chest, as I fight to relieve the pressure. He leans his face close to mine, almost close enough for our lips to touch. A sick, sick part of me yearns to close the distance. I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s there, burrowing just beneath the surface of my skin.

  “It should … brat,” he releases, his breath coating my skin with a fine sheen of mist. “Money can solve everything, and no one will even say a word.”

  The sick part of it all … I know he’s right. The boys can do whatever they want to me, and no one will say a word. They’ll allow it, knowing what their families can do. I just wish I knew why they are so hellbent on being with me. Maybe if I did, I’d know a way out of this.

  CHAPTER 14

  “You are to stay in this room, with me, since we cannot trust you to stay alone.”

  My entire body aches from earlier, and I can do nothing except nod in acceptance. Every time I move, I can feel where Dorran tackled me to the ground. From what I can see, there are bruises littering the skin of my arms and chest—I haven’t gotten around to checking the rest of my body. But if it’s accurate to the way I feel, I’m battered and bruised.

 
“Whatever,” I release a pent-up sigh.

  Brett fumes silently as he paces across his living room. He looks completely unhinged, so I’m not about to voice any protest to his demands, even though I really want to. Especially not when the other two are staring me into silence.

  None of this makes a bit of sense. These boys—men—can have anyone they set their sights on. Why me? I’m just a girl from the streets of New Jersey; I’m nothing special. My father married into money, and now I live here at his new wife’s behest. None of this was my decision. If it were, I’d still be in New Jersey living my life. I’d have my boyfriend, my friends. I’d still be able to do the things I want and feel comfortable in my skin.

  Here, I’ve been anything but comfortable. Getting bullied around every corner and gazed at like I’m a piece of meat they want to devour—it’s not comforting. In fact, I feel like the person I used to be is steadily slipping away, and this new place is making me into its image. I don’t want that; I don’t want any of this.

  “You just had to make it difficult,” he spits, turning a hateful gaze my way. “You couldn’t just go along with it like all the others have.”

  Now that makes me stand up, gasping at the aches and pains. “Brett, I’m not like the other girls here. How many times do I have to say that? I am not a mindless drone you can force to do something. I have a brain, a choice, and my choice is not to fuck you, or Chaz, or Dorran.”

  It’s a broken fucking record, playing repeatedly. We keep getting caught on the same thing, and it’s annoying, frustrating.

  He smirks, but it’s dark and devilish. “Didn’t stop you from almost screwing Chaz in the dressing room, did it?”

  A blush rises to my cheeks and all the way down to my chest. I can’t stop my eyes from seeking Chaz’s, seeing a wolfish grin twisting his features. I still hate him, but can’t deny the way he makes my body feel. Ugh, I need help.

  “That was different,” I retort.