CHAPTER 136
**WINTER**
Claire moves before I can even process it-her fist connecting with Cindy's face with a sickening crack. Cindy staggers back, eyes wide with shock, clutching her cheek.
"Slut?" Claire screeches, her voice sharp with rage. Her shock quickly morphs into venom, her lip curling as she straightens.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? If anyone’s the slut here, it’s you—the queen of sluts! You're vaginas got more mileage than a damn rental car, and everyone knows it!” Claire sneers, her eyes blazing.
She steps closer, tilting her head mockingly.
“And for the last time, her name is Winter. Not Summer, not Autumn, not Spring. But then again, why am I even explaining this to you? Your brain’s the size of a pea—wait, no. That’s an insult to peas.”
Cindy's head snaps up, her eyes blazing with fury as she presses a trembling hand to her reddened cheek. Her lips curl, but there’s no amusement now—just pure, seething rage.
“You bitch,” she spits, voice sharp as a blade. “Still playing guard dog for your pathetic little pet, huh?” She steps forward, shoulders rigid, her entire body vibrating with anger.
“You’ll regret that. Both of you.”
Claire smirks, unfazed. “Regret it? Sweetheart, I’m dying to do it again.”
“You act all high and mighty, Claire, but we both know you’re just as desperate for attention as she is. Maybe even worse.” Her lips curl into a cruel smirk.
“Tell me, does it get exhausting, always playing guard dog for the girl who probably enjoyed every second of that ‘attack’? I mean, come on… rough hands, a little resistance—some girls like that, don’t they?”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder, gazes settling on Winter with a fake pout.
“Isn’t that right, Winter?”
My breath catches in my throat.
Did she just—
The words hit like a slap, sharp and brutal, and for a second, I forget to breathe.
"You’re sick, you know that?" Claire spits, eyes blazing with fury. "Twisted, rotten trash. You actually think that shit is okay to say? That she enjoyed it?" She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "No wonder your only talent is spreading your legs—because your brain sure as hell doesn’t work."
Claire lunges again, but I tighten my grip on her, yanking her back before she can land another hit.
“You vile, two-faced bitch! You think you can run your mouth and not face the consequences?” Claire spits, her voice razor-sharp.
“Say one more word, Cindy, and I swear to God, I’ll rearrange that botched face of yours permanently!”
"Claire, stop!" I hiss, my pulse pounding as I struggle to hold her back.
My gaze locks onto Cindy, and for the first time, I don’t hold back.
“You’re sick, you know that?” My voice shakes, but not with fear—with fury.
“Twisting what happened to me like that? Making it into some dirty little joke? I don’t know what’s more pathetic—the fact that you actually think that way or that you’re vile enough to say it with a straight face.”
Cindy glares at us, her face twisted in fury, fingers trembling as she touches the red mark blooming on her cheek. Around us, whispers ripple through the crowd, phones raised, capturing every second of this mess.
“You’ll pay for that punch your little lapdog threw,” Cindy sneers, her voice low and full of venom. Her eyes lock onto me, a wicked smile creeping onto her face.
“And you’ll be paying sooner than you think.”
I don’t react. I don’t acknowledge her. I just tighten my grip on Claire and drag her away, my jaw clenched, my mind already racing with the weight of whatever Cindy has planned next.
"Let's go," I mutter, dragging Claire away as she thrashes in my grip, still spitting curses at Cindy.
My own hands are shaking, and my heart is slamming against my ribs. I don't dare look back-I can already feel the weight of every stare burning into me.
"You fucking psycho!" Cindy screams from behind, clutching her cheek as if the world owes her something.
"You'll both pay for this-just wait."
My hand tightens around Claire's wrist, dragging her away before this situation turns into full-blown chaos.
Claire whips around, her eyes ablaze with fury.
"You're the psycho, you bitch!" she snaps, her voice sharp and full of venom, still aimed at Cindy as I pull her forward, away from the mess.
Her protests are loud, defiant, and angry, but I don't have time to listen. I don't have time to let her vent- if we stay here much longer, we'll both be caught up in something I can't control. I yank harder, her resistance barely slowing me down.
"Come on, Claire, we're done here," I say, trying to keep the tension from my voice.
We turn the corner, but the heat of their stares doesn’t fade. If anything, it clings to me, pressing against my back like a phantom touch.
Then come the whispers.
I don’t need to hear them to guess what they’re about—the attack, Ethan, the woods. The judgment is the same as it always is. The way people dissect you with a look, a sneer, like they know your story better than you do.
But this feels… different.
Like I’m misreading it. Like it’s not about Ethan.
Or is it?
Their eyes aren’t just on me—they’re darting between me and something else. Phones glow in their hands, illuminating their faces as they watch something. Girls murmur behind manicured nails, shooting me amused, disgusted glances. And the guys…
“Damn, never knew you were into that, babe.”
“We like it rough too, sweetheart.”
“How much per hour, huh?”
Laughter rings out, sharp and cutting, slicing into me like a blade.
I have no idea what the hell they’re talking about.
I force myself to ignore them. I don’t have time for their childish games, their pathetic rumors. Whatever sick joke they’re spreading, I refuse to give it power by reacting.
So I keep walking.
Even as my stomach twists. Even as the unease creeps up my spine, curling around my throat like a noose.
As I near the bathrooms, a boy leans lazily against the lockers, a smirk stretched across his face. He blows me a kiss, the sickly sweetness of it making my skin crawl. Another one winks, his grin wide and mocking. The click of his phone camera sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through me.
“Call me, babe!” one of them jeers, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Bet I can show you a way better time.”
My blood boils.
I stop in my tracks, my glare razor-sharp as I snap,
“Sorry, I don’t do charity work.”
Claire steps in beside me, her voice sweet as poison.
“Yeah, and trust me, even if she was desperate, bottom-feeding scum like you wouldn’t make the cut.”
The guy’s smirk falters, his face twisting in irritation, but I don’t stick around to see his response. I need to get out of here before I lose it completely.
My hands are already clenched, my body wound tight with frustration. If I let myself snap, I’ll do something I want to do—something they deserve—but something that won’t help me.
So I turn on my heel and walk away, even as my skin burns with the need to fight back.
I keep pulling Claire forward. Her wrist in my hand, the tension in her body making it clear she's not happy about it.
But it doesn't last. They don't stop. They won't. The eyes. The phones. The calls. It never ends.
One of them shouts,
"Come on, babe, I’m into role play too. You can pretend to be the victim... and I’ll be the villain. Just let me know when and where, and I’ll make it worth your while."
A burst of laughter follows, sharp and cruel, like knives in the air.
"Yeah, don't play coy, sweetheart. We all know you want it."
My jaw tightens, rage bubbling under my skin.
*Role play?*
*Victim?*
*Villian?*
*What the hell are they even talking about?*
I glance at Claire, confusion twisting in my stomach as the words hang in the air. My mind struggles to make sense of what just happened. The taunts, the mockery—it's like I’m not even the target of their words, but some twisted game to make me feel small.
Claire’s face is a mirror of mine—just as baffled, her fists still clenched by her sides
Every nerve in my body screams at me to turn around, to shut them up, to make them choke on their words. But I don’t. I keep walking, forcing my breaths to stay even, one step at a time. Even as their taunts claw at my back like poison-tipped daggers.
Then—another one steps in front of us. He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there. Staring.
Claire’s seething beside me, her hands balled into fists. “Take a picture, asshole. It’ll last longer.”
The guy smirks, lowering his gaze to his phone.
“No need,” he says smoothly.
“Already got plenty.”
And just like that, he walks away.
My stomach drops.
What the hell does that mean!!
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