Page 111 of Depraved Boys

Right now, I didn’t care how much pain I inflicted on her. She had started the aggression, and I would fight back in kind. “Why did I hit you?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “You don’t remember?”

“Tell me.” I gave her hair a little tug.

“I want something in return,” she said through clenched teeth.

“If you think I’ll drop those charges—”

“Pig some.”

“What?” My hands slipped out of her hair. “No!”

With a skittering, backward movement, Bianca moved out of reach. “You haven’t heard me out.”

“I’m not playing any of your cruel games,” I snarled.

“Then you won’t know who is trying to kill you.” Her face twisted into a satisfied smirk. “They’re closer than you think, and they’ll strike again. Nothing’s changed, except they know you’re as resilient as a cockroach. Next time, they won’t fail.”

My stomach hardened with dread. Right now, with my head throbbing, and with no memories of blank Monday, I was ready to believe the worst, even if Bianca was probably bluffing.

“What do you want?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Tilting her head to the side, Bianca thrust out a hip in a move that reminded me of Ashley. Perhaps she thought she’d won this little battle, but I’d only asked to keep her talking.

Anticipation fizzled up my gullet. If I could glean anything from her ramblings, it might tell me if she knew something or was spewing out random sentences to see if she could use anything as leverage to stop me from pressing charges for the sexual assault.

“Cormac Gibbons.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Tell him you’re in love with him. Confess your feelings, string him along, and break his heart. Then I’ll tell you who is trying to kill you.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped past her. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me.”

“Wait.”

Opening the door to the next hallway, I muttered, “Come back when you can tell me something I can use. Otherwise, fuck the hell off.”

I stole through the door, hurried to the nearest bathroom, and walked into the closest stall. My head felt so swollen, I thought it would explode. After sitting on the toilet seat, I tore open my bag.

With hands that shook, I found a box of paracetamol and pushed three tablets out of the blister pack. My time at the hideout with Leopold and Sebastian had been blissful. They had both treated me to great food, luxurious surroundings, and all the sensual pleasures I could handle. But it had been an oasis in a world of mad dogs that seemed to make me its bitch, and my head was staging its painful protest.

I stuffed the tablets in my mouth and gnashed them into dust. After swallowing, I rested my head against the door and blew out a long breath, and waited for the painkillers to work. If these headaches didn’t go away, I was screwed.

The extra layer of painkillers kept me functional, but the stress of returning to Brittas Academy blared like a beacon in the form of continued headaches. I tried going to bed early, cutting down on my prep, completely ignoring Geraldine, Bianca, Ashley, and anyone associated with them, but my efforts were futile.

Even Dr. Forrester couldn’t find anything wrong with me and blamed it on the pressure of maintaining a high grade average.

In Economics class, I sat next to Cormac and massaged my temples in an attempt to chase the pain away with gentle movements.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cormac.

“Bloody migraines,” I muttered.

“What did the doctor prescribe?” he asked. “Maybe you need stronger painkillers.”

I shook my head. “The stronger ones make me drowsy.”

“That’s because you have an imbalance in your liver, spleen, and kidney qi,” said Leopold from the seat behind.

I twisted in my seat and met his concerned, aquamarine eyes. “What’s that?”