Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

Not really. Hayden hasn’t told me much, except that he never dates.

That much was obvious, considering he went from one model-like girl to another like they were candies. She sent another text before I could reply to her.

I have a theory.

Boy, I had more of those than I could count, and each one was more absurd than the last.

Shoot.

I think something happened to him that prevents him from falling for anyone.

I just stared at the message, taken back to the time in the school gym a couple of months earlier, when I’d found him alone crying. That was the moment that had changed my perspective on him, and it was then that I’d heard him mention a girl’s name that piqued my curiosity. Emma. Did this have anything to do with her?

Sar’s new text popped up on my screen.

I noticed something.

Yes?

I think he was or is abused because he doesn’t like being touched from behind.

I frowned. I recollected my every encounter with Blake, but I failed to find anything that would confirm her words.

How do you know this?

Remember when you drove me home last year? He went berserk when you touched his shoulder.

My pulse quickened as the memory of that day rushed back to me. I’d thought he was just mad because I, someone he hated, had touched him. I hadn’t found anything about it unusual.

You think that’s a sign of some trauma?

It’s possible.

How about a phobia?

She frowned, deep in thought, before she typed a new message.

Like a phobia of touching?

Yeah.

Who knows?

I thought about this as the day went on, but I was unable to connect the dots. Even if he had been or was being abused, it didn’t justify the way he treated me. This meant he’d shifted the blame onto me for something that had nothing to do with me, and it was inexcusable. I didn’t deserve his anger.

U.S. history was about to bring me more time with Blake, and it didn’t help that we had detention right after it. I had to pass next to his locker on my way to the classroom, and my heartbeat accelerated before I even spotted him going through his stuff there. I quickened my pace to move past, but then I drew up. This could be my chance to give him the money for his phone screen.

My stomach spasmed. I wanted to bolt away, but I remembered my mom’s face when she gave me the money. It was either give him the money or die trying.

I forced my unsteady legs to move before I lost what little courage I’d gathered. It was like I was walking straight into the lion’s den, and I was clueless about what was waiting for me in the end. I stopped at a safe distance and took the money out of my pocket.

My traitorous eyes slid down his body, taking advantage of the opportunity before he turned around. My chest ached with sweet pressure that morphed into displeasure when I realized I was gawking at him.

Stupid, stupid me.

I tugged at the end of my shirt, remembering to suck my belly in when a few girls passing by glanced at my stomach. It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing a tight shirt today.

“Blake,” I called out, and his back muscles turned rigid. I swallowed hard, clutching the bills in my hand. I must not wimp out. I absolutely must not wimp out.

He turned to face me with a hostile expression. “The fuck you want?”

As much as he drove me up the wall, I had to put up with his horrible attitude and be a better person this time. “I owe you for your broken screen.” Each word hurt; everything in me was set against this. “So I want to pay for it.”

My racing pulse went crazy when I moved two steps closer to him and extended my hand with the money toward him, silently begging him not to make this harder for me and take it.

He looked at the bills as if he didn’t understand what the hell I was doing. Frankly, I didn’t understand myself either, but I’d broken his screen, and it was time for me to own up to it.

“You’re paying me for my broken screen,” he stated flatly.

“Y-Yes.” My hand was shaking, and I was sure he could see it. He was most certainly feeding on it, enjoying seeing me at his mercy. “I-I’m sorry for breaking your screen.” There, I’d said it. I’d managed to say my apology. “Please. Take the money.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re sorry for breaking my screen.”

“Yes.”

After several long seconds, he reached for the money, and I met his gaze, relieved but also surprised he wasn’t going to give me trouble. It seemed things would work out in my favor. I held my breath when our hands met and his touch lingered on my skin for a second longer than necessary before he pulled his hand away.

I expected him to put the bills into his pocket, but he didn’t do that.

Instead, he ripped them into pieces, his expression blank as he stared at me. My eyes widened as he dropped them to the floor. A couple of students stopped to see what was going on, and my face flared hot.

“You can go fuck yourself with your shitty apology.”

Those torn bills were the ripped pieces of my dignity, thrown to the floor to be stomped on and tarnished. My dignity would always be trampled. Tears collected in my eyes.

“Why do you have to be this way?” My voice was whiny—too whiny.

“Did you already forget what I said? You won’t get away with it that easily.”

A tear escaped my eye, and I brushed it off furiously, angry at myself for allowing him to see me shaken. He shut his locker with a bang and walked away.

I trembled hard as I stared at the bills on the floor. I. Hate. Him.

Hiding behind my hair, I ignored everyone’s stares and hauled myself to the classroom.