Page 62 of Hate Like Ours

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I groan as he sucks and licks my pussy until I come again. When he lifts his head up, his face is covered in our combined juices along with the red tinges of my blood.

“Come clean my cock slut,” he rasps a second later. Without thinking, I obey him and get to my knees. The movement hurts my sore pussy and I know the two cuts he gave me on the inside of my pussy lips will hurt for days.

I lick the head of his cock and the rest of it until it’s clean. When it’s all clean like he didn’t just fuck me, he pushes me away from him and moves to pull his pants back on. I’m still on my knees, wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Go clean yourself up. And don’t fucking forget that you’re mine to own. You need my permission before going anywhere,” he says.

“You’re delusional,” I tell him.

“We’ll see about that.” He smirks at me like he knows something I don’t and then he storms out of the kitchen and out of the house.

My mind is still reeling but I don’t have the energy to analyze what just happened. I slowly get up and wince as I do. I clean up the broken glass and then make my way upstairs to shower.

I check my phone before getting into the shower and see that Aiden has texted me. Mom texted saying that she’s spending the night with Jonathan and there still is no text back from Kinsley which is making me worried. Asher better not have done anything to her or I’ll kill him.



I feel worsetoday than I did yesterday and it fucking sucks. By the time I made it to my bed after Knox left, I cried myself to sleep. Mom wasn’t home so my sobs definitely weren’t quiet. It was for the best though since after the night I had with Knox, it wouldn’t have been easy to keep my emotions under control.

When I got up this morning, my entire body felt sore as hell, especially my vagina. If I thought when I showered last night that it hurt, well, let’s just say that pain was nothing compared to the pain of showering this morning. I almost screamed the house down when the water touched the cut inside my pussy lips.

Fucking dickhead knows how to cause pain, that’s for sure. I still can’t believe he cut me and then had the audacity to fuck me with a freaking knife!Did somebody say psycho?

Now as I’m walking into school, I know that I’m walking kind of funny, but that can’t be helped. I had to put some gauze on the cuts so it wouldn’t bleed and cause a mess. The last thing I need is for my uniform to have blood on it. Lord knows what kind of insults I’d get for that.

I make my way down the hall toward my locker and as usual, I notice people whispering. I feel the stares on me. I have no doubt they’re probably gossiping about the video Knox showed me last night. The one he was so pissed about.

I keep my head down and continue walking. I don’t want to have any issues with anyone, especially not today when I’m already feeling like shit and trying my best not to show it. I have a feeling that the tiniest thing might set me off and cause me to crumble. So yeah, I’m trying to avoid that.

They might be staring because I’m wearing a long-sleeve sweater today. I had to wear something to cover the scars on my arms since I didn’t want anyone seeing that. I took the bandages off this morning so it wouldn’t be too obvious. I didn’t cut too deep, so no one will really notice it unless they were paying extra close attention to my arm. Not that anyone here pays too much attention to me, so I should be good. But then again, you just have to be prepared for anything when it comes to this place.

When I make it to my locker the wordscow,pig, as well as some others are spray painted onto the front of it. I let out a sigh. What else is new? I usually clean it off but today, I don’t react. I open my locker and grab the books I need for class before slamming it shut and heading to class. What’s the point of cleaning it when they’ll just do it again?

The classroom is already full of students when I step into class. I head to my seat at the front, trying to act like they don’t exist. Just as I’m about to sit, Trent pulls my chair back and I fall flat on my ass. The whole class erupts in laughter and my cheeks heat at the embarrassment I’m currently feeling. I’m guessing he’s still pissed about getting knocked out yesterday.

“Bitch,” he mutters. “That’s for yesterday. Don’t think that’s the end of it,” he sneers at me.

“Real funny, asshole!” I snap, way beyond pissed at him. Why can’t “I’m not interested” be enough for some guys?

Everyone is still laughing when I stand up and storm out of class to go to the bathroom to calm down for a few minutes. I barely make it into one of the empty stalls before bursting into tears. I fucking hate this place and wish I didn’t have to come here anymore.

When I finally manage to get myself together and under control, I know that I’m late for class. I let out another sigh because I know Mr. Smith will chew me out in front of everyone again. I can’t seem to win or catch a break. I make my way to the sink to wash my face and once I’m done, I look at my face in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy and you can definitely tell I was crying. That will probably be used as more ammunition against me for the taunts they will most likely come up with once I get back to class.

When I walk back into class, I see that the books I left behind are torn and they’re in a pile on my table.

“Miss Carrington, this is the last time I will tolerate you being late!” Mr. Smith snaps before I can even make it to my seat. The whole class snickers. When I look around, of course, Knox is here to witness my further humiliation.

I see Kinsley sitting in her seat between the guys. She has her head down and she isn’t looking at anyone, specifically me. I wonder what the hell is going on with her. I’ll definitely have to talk to her sometime today.

“I’m sorry, sir. I had to use the restroom,” I say, hoping that’ll help plead my case.

“That’s no excuse. You should have given yourself ample time this morning before class to use the facilities. Everyone else is here on time but you can’t seem to do the same!” he snaps at me. “Head to the principal’s office.”

Without answering him, I grab my stuff and head out to the principal’s office. I sit there and wait for an hour before I get to see the principal. He ushers me into his office. He takes a seat behind his desk and then motions for me to take the one in front of it.

“Miss Carrington, Mr. Smith has made me aware of the fact that you’re always late to class which is becoming a disruption to the other students,” he starts off.

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