Princes & I

Chapter 23: Bullying & I

"Dominic, there's something I want to ask."

"What is it?" He peeks over the edge of his book, flipping the page in turn.

Sitting in the quiet library during one of our free periods, we both revel in this time. If the third member of our 'tyrannical trio'—as Miss Gamby liked to call it—were here, we'd probably steer clear of purposely peaceful places such as the library.

My thoughts scrolling back to the early morning I'd arrived at school, the notes left in my locker rehash my reasons for bringing it up.

"What do you consider 'bullying'?" I ask.

Dominic's head snaps up, his eyes displaying a violent flare in them.

"Are you being bullied?" His voice lowers dangerously. "Who, what and why. And what do you want me to do?"

I raise my hands dismissively, waving them gently as I attempt to soothe the boy sitting opposite me.

"It's childish. This morning I went to my locker to retrieve my commerce papers, and there were various notes inside."

Reaching into my blazer pocket, my fingers brush past my phone and spare receipts and eventually grab at the folded notes. I pull a few out, laying them on the brazen wood of the study table face down. While dipping further into my pocket, Dominic picks up the note closest to him first, opening it up to expose the contents. As his eyes run over the written lines, his eyebrow furrows—a look he expresses when something hard to understand.

"Whoever wrote this must have some sort of inability to use grammar." He scrunches his nose up. "And can't spell."

We share a knowing look.

Romain D'Flores.

Barely able to stop myself from an eye roll, I calmly retrieve the remainder of the letters and let Dominic flick through them. After a minute or two of analysing, the raven haired boy is able to pinpoint who most of the letters are by—the tone or handwriting either familiar to him or the culprit had overconfidently signed their name.

It was surprising to me how many names there were as Dominic went through the letters, each piece of paper revealing someone's hatred of me. What was even more surprising was the amount of letter from people I didn't even know of. Never the less when checked, I didn't have any classes with. Scanning the letters for a second time, not really concentrating the first time over, one letter in particular creates a anxious feeling in my chest.

"Not long now babes, keep putting out and he'll be mine in a heartbeat.
Maybe I should pump so much of the shit in his veins he doesn't wake up the next day.
How funny would that be?"

The message is scrawled in neon pink highlighter, as if the person who wrote it wasn't bothered to each into their bag for a pen and settled for the next best thing. A bright coral kiss mark tops the letter—big, bold, and unafraid, much like it's owner.

"That girl's got a screw loose." Dominic mumbles, eyeing the letter I'm holding. "I think you should make a formal complaint. She's already tried to physically assault you twice-"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Rolling my eyes, I set Katanya's note down onto a small pile of paper formed of the rest of the letters. "Of course I've put in a complaint. Unfortunately, you could decapitate an entire classroom and flash enough dollar bills to make it go away."

I take another letter out of the batch—a bright red smear adorning the top fold. Hopefully that's lipstick.

It's not gonna' stop. I'm not gonna' stop. I'll tear you down, I'll break you. I'll keep this up longer then you'll be able to cope.