Page 2 of Merciless

Katie wrinkles her nose and folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t want it back. What if it has bird guts on it?”

I glance at the soccer ball, considering if I should stomp on it until it deflates. They can’t kill any more animals with a flat ball.

“Nothing a little water can’t clean off, but I need it back for practice.” Derrick takes another step toward me and points at the ball. “Hey, freak! I know you can hear me.”

My grip tightens on the dead bird, and I inch backward, moving closer to the ball. Tension coils in my stomach. My fingers itch to touch the blade tucked in my skirt pocket. I keep it on me for protection against assholes like them, but I’ve never used it because I always chicken out.

Katie puts more weight on one leg, jutting out her hip. Her smirk matches Derrick’s before she pouts her bottom lip in mock sympathy, fists her hand under her eye, and sniffles. “Whomp, whomp. Go cry about it somewhere else, and take that disgusting thing with you.”

I don’t know what compels me to look at Elijah. It’s not like he’ll save me from his friends’ insults. Or from Katie whenever she finds me alone later in the day.

He stands at the back of the group, hands in his pockets, not caring about what’s happening. He turns his gaze and locks onto me. Curiosity replaces his usual contempt, darkening his eyes by a shade.

My fingers twitch, the burning ache of reaching for my blade intensifying. Elijah tilts his head as he peers past Derrick’s turned back. The air knocks loose from my chest as the corner of his lip hooks in a subtle smirk. Then he breaks the spell by being the first to look away, all traces of amusement gone as though they’d never been there to begin with.

“Don’t play dumb, freak.” Derrick stomps toward me, each long stride eating up the space between us.

I raise my chin and march through the crowd, putting distance between me and the assholes. Laughter and taunts nip at my heels, their cruel words fading until I can’t make them out anymore.

“The freak shouldn’t take the bird with her.”

“Yeah, what does she plan on doing with it?”

“She’ll probably violate the corpse.”

I round the corner and get out of sight. The back of my head tingles from the weight of dark, merciless eyes.

It’s expected from a Virgo man. Judging is what he’s best at, right along with his twin brother.

Keeping my head held high, I stride past my peers with a destination in mind. Several people double-take when they notice the dead crow cradled against my chest. Some curl their lips with a roll of their eyes before moving on.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. My heart skips a beat, then flutters like a hummingbird’s wings.

I know who messaged me without even looking.

The unknown number that’s been harassing me for over a year.

I look at every person I walk past, wondering if they’re my secret tormentor. It’s an unknown number and impossible to know who’s been sending me threats, but I search for any signs of the nameless person’s identity. Just one more problem I’m forced to deal with.

Welcome to my hell.

But as I glance at each face, the most I get is complete disgust as I cart around a dead bird.

I don’t know why they act surprised every time they see me with an unliving thing. It’s nothing unusual for the dubbed freak of this elite college to carry around a dead animal.

I’m already running late for class, but I don’t care. I make a beeline for the aviary tucked on the south side of campus.

The bell above the door chimes, alerting Rome to my arrival. He lifts his head, his friendly steel-grey eyes landing on me. A smile brightens his face before his attention drops to the dead crow in my hands.

“Another one?” He pushes back his chair and stands with a soft sigh.

“A soccer ball this time.” I stop at the desk and hold the crow out to him like I’m offering a sacrifice and hoping it will bring the creature back to life.

Rome makes a sound at the back of his throat and gently shakes his head. A lock of platinum hair falls over one eye.

He’s drop-dead gorgeous, but despite that acknowledgment, I don’t see myself doing anything with him or being with him. Yeah, I sometimes get flustered around him, but that’s just nerves.

Besides, if word got out that I showed interest in him, that’d be the end of his career. He’d likely disappear from the face of the planet, then return with cuts and bruises, thanks to that unknown number. That’s what happened to everyone else who got too close to me.