𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xiii ❞

⎡ act xiii - learning ⎦

┊❝ I have to teach you, is that so wrong? ❞┊

── DYLAN hummed happily as he walked with (Y/N), his hand over her shoulder, Ian on the other side of the girl with his hands in his pockets. (Y/N), however, was completely miserable, her mind reeling over the disbelieving expressions on both Sawyer's and Shariah's faces. The one chance she had to make friends was immediately snuffed out by Dylan and his insatiable need to have her completely under his thumb and at his mercy.

It was soul crushing, the amount of control he had over her because of her fear alone.

"No need to look so depressed, (Y/N)," Ian tutted, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "It's annoying having to look at you when it seems as if you're about to cry."

"I wonder why I look like that, huh?" She mumbled, glaring hard at the linoleum floor.

Ian smirked at her response.

"Yes, why do you look like that?" Dylan questioned, leaning his face uncomfortably close to hers for her liking, wishing to pull away but the fear proving useless when he had a tight grip on her shoulders, forcing her body against his. "Is it because we took you away from your two new friends? And here I thought we were friends... no?"

"I know you don't think of me as 'friend,'" (Y/N) swallowed, her throat for some reason turning very dry. "You're using me... just like Ryan and that one boy and all the others you told me about."

"You think so?"

"Hasn't it already been confirmed after you let Carmen burn me?" She scowled.

"I didn't say she could," he smiled.

"You didn't stop her, either."

"I didn't stop her because she's helping you learn," Dylan pointed out as he flashed charming smiles to those around him, most of guys greeting him enthusiastically while all of the girls shied away from his eyes, flustered from just one second of his attention. I have to teach you, is that so wrong? If I don't, you'll continue to act as if interacting with people like Shariah and Sawyer is okay. It's not. You understand that, don't you?"

She fell quiet at that.

Dylan's smile fell, turning his gaze down to (Y/N), his stare sharp and intense to the point it felt as if she were drowning in his cold eyes.

"...I do," she spat out.

"Perfect," he hummed, his smile returning.

As Ian and Dylan led her to the cafeteria, sitting her down with their group as they laughed at joked, they didn't bother with her after that. They allowed Carmen and her group of girls to do whatever they wanted to her, whether it be slapping her across the face if she were too slow to answer or pushing her around and grabbing at her clothes and hair if they didn't like said answer. What was worse was how they 'applied' makeup to her face before 'accidentally' spilling scalding hot soup all over her clothes. Shooting upwards in both pain and humiliation, (Y/N) ran from the room, their twisted chorus of laughter following after her.

Dylan and Ian watched her leave, something about how she looked when so utterly defeated making them relish what they were doing to her.

It was a twisted type of entertainment.

But they didn't care.

Like Dylan proclaimed to her earlier, (Y/N) would have to learn, and eventually she would.

Oh, how they couldn't wait when she would.

Shoving open the bathroom's door, (Y/N) threw off her top that was now ruined by the soup base that had completely been soaked into the fibers, leaving nothing but a dark brown stain as a result. Staring at herself in the mirror, crying from the large red burns on her chest and stomach as a result from the hot soup, she shakily wet paper towels with cold water to pat along her skin. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so no one was around to witness her pitiful stage—then again, enough people in the cafeteria and those in the halls that she passed had seen enough, their judging eyes haunting her.

Wiping off the badly done eyeliner, the garish red lipstick, and the thick, drawn on eyebrows, (Y/N) tried to calm herself down.

She hated them.

She hated them with every ounce of her being.

Giving one last look of herself in the mirror, she was just about to slide on her ruined shirt so she could run to her house and get a new one when she froze at the sound of the door opening. Hurriedly—but quietly—rushing into one of the stalls and locking the door, she then sat on the toilet and pulled her feet up before waiting with bated breath. As much as she could help it, she didn't want more people seeing her in such a pathetic condition. Two pairs of footsteps entered the space, both immediately making a beeline for the rows of sinks.

"Can you believe what Carmen did to that girl?" One of the girls started, her voice a bit squeaky as she reapplied her lip gloss.

"It was fucking hilarious," the other replied with a snicker, her voice tinged with a British accent.

"The look on her face was priceless."

"Seriously, I mean, it's what she gets for hanging around Dylan and Ian as if she's hot or something," British accent scoffed as she took off her glasses to re-darken her lashes with some mascara. "Why do they even keep her around? I mean, it's not as if they were doing anything to stop Carmen, so maybe they're trying to find a way to get rid of her?"

"I hope so," Squeaky voice sighed.

"I doubt it, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see their reactions?" British accent murmured, her brows furrowing. "I mean, obviously they were enjoying what Carmen was doing to that girl, but at the same time... I don't know how to explain it. It's like... they almost expected it?"

"Huh?" Squeaky voice, confused by her friend's statement, frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't stop Carmen because they wanted her to do that—like they knew she would do that," British accent continued. "They have a reason for doing what they did to that girl besides just doing it. I mean, at least that's what I think." Brushing aside a few strands of her hair, she muttered, "I wish I was right, though... that they just want to get rid of her. She's such a fucking eyesore."

(Y/N) sat still in her spot until they left before slowly bringing her feet down.

Her expression lay emotionless.      

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To be continued...