Page 373 of Lessons in Cruelty

I scoff, dropping the phone face down on my chest. The only talking Professor Rooke does is things like, “don’t spill my coke,” or, “you like that,” and, of course, “don’t speak.”

…it’s time someone fucked this pretty girl…

God, how can I be in this much pain and still get horny? I’ll probably bleed out if I came now.

But I still unlock my phone. Still go to my messages. And still reply to Bastian, because apparently I’m willing to risk exsanguination to have his attention.

@lee.haven

What would we talk about, professor?

I don’t expect him to reply right away. I mean, he’s probably getting ready for his lecture. Or having breakfast with one of his many friends. Intellectuals and fashion models, members of the board, CEOs, I don’t fucking know. People he can discuss literature and politics with.

So when I see him typing a reply a few seconds later, my heart hops in my chest.

@rooke.bastian

Anything you’d like.

I bite the inside corner of my mouth as I try to come up with some witty reply, but before I can type anything, a link comes through.

What the…

Of course I tap it. I have a death wish, after all.

VibeFeed? This is one of the apps I tried to search for my video on. I guess he wants to know if I have an account so he can stalk me on there or something.

Does he really think I sit around and post selfies all day? As if.

@lee.haven

Don’t have account

And then, because I know what he’ll say, I add,

@lee.haven

No email to signup. Phone number won’t verify

There. That should put an end to⁠—

He’s typing.

It goes on for a while, but the pain pills haven’t kicked in yet, so I have nothing better to do than wait.

@rooke.bastian

Could just have asked.

A text message comes through, welcoming me to my VibeFeed account. I stare at it suspiciously.

@rooke.bastian

Password: my-sw33t-g!rl

I scoff. Because of course it is.

@lee.haven