I’ll Make You Suffer Like You Made Me

In order to secure a spot for direct admission to the school, someone edited my photo and posted it on the school forum for everyone to gawk at.

And that someone was my boyfriend of three years—whom I had only ever known online.

I was cornered by someone, being asked how much for the night, when Corbin Sterling leaned casually against the wall, completely indifferent.

Corbin was the rich second-generation heir at school, someone no one dared to mess with. The person who cornered me was one of his lackeys.

I gripped my phone tightly, and even though the screen had dimmed, the top message still lingered on the screen: "Favorite Ivy" had just sent me something.

—"Ivy, can we talk?" —"Little kitten peeking out. Jpg"

Here, my beloved online boyfriend was eagerly awaiting my reply, while on the other side, Corbin's lackey was leering at me with those disgusting, sticky eyes, then asked in a greasy voice, "Ivy, how much for the night?"

I furrowed my brow, grimacing as I avoided his outstretched hand.

He was immediately enraged.

"You bitch, stop pretending. Who doesn't know you're selling yourself out here?"

"You act all high and mighty, but everyone knows what you're really like. Don’t pretend no one knows your dirty little secret."

My face turned pale.

I knew exactly what he meant.

Recently, a few photos had been taken—so-called pictures of me with a 'sugar daddy'—and they were being spread all over the school forum, slandering my private life, suggesting that I would sleep with anyone for money.

But the truth was, they were staged photos, and no one would listen to my side of the story.

Mr. Whitmore, the class adviser, took me to Dr. Ashford, the grade director, for help, only to be told I was making a fuss over nothing.

I could only watch helplessly as the rumors grew stronger.

On the forum, there were people posting with such conviction, as if they were hiding under the bed of me and that so-called sugar daddy, witnessing everything firsthand.

Those lurking on the forum, with ulterior motives, were like vultures sensing blood, celebrating the chaos.

They went wild, spreading the pictures, discussing me in revolting tones, and privately accusing me of having a ruined personal life.

They were like greedy hyenas, or persistent flies, disgustingly buzzing around.

"The photos were staged."

"Don’t project your own filth onto me."

I said.

He sneered.

And just as he attempted to touch my face, I bit down hard on his hand. His shriek echoed through the hallway, and I turned to Corbin, the only one who could stop them, whispering a desperate plea.

"I'll pretend this never happened... can you just let me go?"

Corbin finally took his eyes off his phone and looked at me directly.

He was handsome, radiating a youthful energy, his presence both bold and carefree.

But his words were as cold as ice.

"What does this have to do with me?"

He said lazily.

"Why should I help you?"

Then, he glanced down at his phone again, which still hadn’t buzzed with any new messages, clicking his tongue in irritation. He flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped it out with his shoe.

Corbin walked over and looked down at me from above.

"So you want my people to let you go?"

He patted my face with a mocking grin.

"As long as you give up your spot at Ashworth University, I’ll let you go."

I shook my head.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I wasn’t going to let go of it.

Moreover, even if I did want to give it up, I sure as hell didn’t want someone like him to get his hands on it.

The smile faded from Corbin's face. He pulled his hand back and, as if I were some stain, wiped his hand with a tissue, rubbing it inside and out.

Then, the next moment, I was kicked to the ground.

My phone and the books I was clutching scattered across the floor.

Corbin's shoe pressed down hard on my head.

I tried to push myself up with my hands, but he stomped down on them too.

The tip of his shoe rose and crushed down again, grinding grit into my already bleeding palms.

Then, the punches and kicks from the others started to rain down.

I curled up, allowing their fists to batter me.

Someone kicked me in the stomach, and it felt like my insides had been twisted, pain shooting through me as cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

I don’t know how long it was before the shoe on my head was finally removed.

Corbin tossed the tissue he’d used to wipe his hand onto my face and dropped a few words as if he were talking to someone beneath his notice.

"Couldn’t handle things the nice way, huh? Wanted to force others to take action and make you suffer a little. Well, enjoy your pain."

I curled into myself, clutching my head, agony radiating from every part of my body. At that moment, I still didn’t fully understand what he meant. But the sound of retreating footsteps and the dimming light told me—this secret bullying, for now, was finally over.