Page 48 of Lessons in Cruelty

Kai still has my copy of The Lucifer Effect. I know Professor Rooke was being serious when he said not to bother showing up if we hadn’t read the first ten chapters…but maybe I can fake my way through the class until Simone gets that other copy back.

I can do that.

I mean, that’s literally what frauds do, right?

They fake it till they make it.

Despite all my doubts, despite all my fears, I fake the part of a dutiful student, and scrape together my stuff for class. Slipping my notepad and pen into the AHC tote. I hesitate when I pick up my Activity Log.

There’s a queasy feeling in my stomach when I flip it open.

The first fresh page glares up at me.

What Kai’s done to me since I’ve returned to Agony Hollow could fill half this fucking book.

But it’s still empty.

The sound of my dismal chuckle is as pathetic as I am.

You’d swear I don’t even want to graduate. Sure, I’ve started work on some of my other assignments. But Professor Rooke’s class is one of my prerequisites.

If I fail, I’m out on my ass.

I dig my pen out of the tote bag and yank the lid off with my teeth, staring down at the blank page like it’s Kai’s smirking face. The nib of the pen leaves a dent in the page as I write with slow, furious intent.

Age: 5

Act: boy pushes me into mud puddle

Intent: a joke / shame

Impact: scraped hands and knees. clothes full of mud. dad was mad at me. cried.

My hand is shaking, but I keep going.

Interpretation: it wasn’t funny it hurt and got me into trouble + he knew it would because he did it a lot

CRUEL

I blow out a breath.

Fuck, that felt good, especially scrawling that last word. I go over it again, trying to make it neater and less serial-killery.

Age: 7

Act: boy ties me to tree

Intent: playing pretend / punishment

Impact: rope left marks. was scared he would leave me like that. cried. yelled until throat was sore.

Interpretation: he was mad at me because I laughed at him and this was his punishment two days later - he loved playing the long game

CRUEL!

On and on I go, my pen scritching over the paper as I dredge up memories I hadn’t realized I’d buried so deep.

I run out of steam and pause, pushing the pen in and out of its lid where I still have it trapped between my teeth. I stop when I miss my mark and stab myself in the lip.