Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Read online

  Trapped

  Copyright © 2021 by Vera Hollins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be utilized, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical methods, without the written consent of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains mature and sensitive themes such as abuse, strong violence, rape (not involving the main characters), sexual content, offensive language. It includes situations that may be triggering for some readers, so caution is advised.

  Edited by: Editing by C. Marie

  Formatted by: Champagne Book Design

  Cover Design by: Rasha Savic

  Cover Girl Art photo by: annamile from Depositphotos

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is a spin-off. It can be read as a standalone, but it is recommended to read Bullied (Bullied #1), Pained (Bullied #2), and Damaged (Bullied #3) before reading this book to get a better understanding of the story and characters.

  There is no time skip between Trapped and Damaged. Furthermore, chronologically, the first chapter of Trapped comes before the scene with Jessica in chapter twenty-two of Damaged. Also, the second half of chapter two of Trapped comes after the scene with Jessica and Sarah in chapter twenty-three of Damaged.

  To anyone feeling not good enough. Remember that you matter. You’re worthy and special. You are you.

  “The Devil Inside”—Like A Storm

  “Running With The Wolves”—Aurora

  “Heaven or Hell”—Digital Daggers

  “No More”—Three Days Grace

  “Confession”—Red

  “Into The Fire (Acoustic Version)”—Asking Alexandria

  “Memento”—Cinephile

  “Desert Song”—My Chemical Romance

  “Fracture”—Red

  “Find You”—Ruelle

  “Change It All”—No Resolve

  “Bones Of Ribbon”—London Grammar

  “Love Has No Limits”—Fleurie

  Six months earlier

  It was the first day of my senior year of high school. It wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for.

  I wasn’t at my old school in Bridgeport but at a new school that held only the unknown, and I was always scared of the unknown.

  The bell rang, marking the end of third period and the start of more unknown things to come. I ignored the stares of my classmates on my way out of the classroom. I just wanted them to stop staring, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  I was a new girl, which apparently meant I had to be christened with relentless staring, whispering, and finger-pointing, as if they had never seen a new student at this school—as if I were some alien specimen. It was rather intimidating, and I almost chickened out. I’d most definitely have given up on going to the cafeteria if it wasn’t for my growling stomach. I was starving.

  Students flocked to the hall, which helped me get lost in the crowd. I sucked in my belly and straightened my spine, hoping I wasn’t looking as fat as I felt. I was fidgety as I moved, running my hands over the edges of my draped shirt to fix the non-existent creases, hoping it hid the flab above the waistband of my jeans.

  It’s going to be okay. Look at the bright side. You’re starting anew here.

  I stopped in front of the cafeteria doors as a dull ache spread through my chest. I didn’t want to eat alone and face more staring. It would be better to just pick up some food and go somewhere quiet.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside. A quick inspection of the room told me I’d managed to attract some attention, which brought a blush to my face. Okay. More creepy staring, here we go.

  My insecure steps led me deeper into the lunchroom, until someone stopped a bit too close to me. I raised my head to meet the stunning yet cold gray eyes of a guy who was so tall I felt like a dwarf next to him. I choked on my saliva, confused as to why such a hot-looking guy would approach me deliberately.

  I studied the chiseled features of his face, noting his high cheekbones, straight-edged nose, and heart-shaped lips that could best be described as “made for kissing.” He definitely gave other guys a run for their money, but there was something about him—an air of trouble—that I didn’t like, even more so considering I didn’t know what his deal was.

  He assessed me too, and I didn’t miss the cruel calculation on his face or the sudden silence falling on the room.

  “Well, you’re something new.” He spoke loudly for others to hear. A non-friendly grin formed on his face. “What’s your name?”

  I lowered my head as another blush coated my cheeks. I was growing overly self-conscious, feeling like the thousands of eyes prodded at me.

  Too easily, I was taken back to that incident five years earlier. I hadn’t been able to deal with that then, and I certainly couldn’t deal with this now. I just wanted to get this over with and be out of here.

  “J-Jessica,” I answered in that squeaky, childish voice I hated. My stammer was followed by vicious laughter from a few students standing nearby.

  “Jessica what?”

  “Jessica Metts.”

  “What’s that? I didn’t hear you. Jessica what?”

  “J-Jessica Metts.”

  “You mean Jessica Fats?”

  My stomach dropped at the insult that hurt the most. The insult I heard more than any other. The one that reduced me to this insecure being that could never be truly satisfied with her looks. He was so mean.

  His grin grew even bigger. “Because you’re so fat, Jessie.”

  All those faceless people in the room were laughing. The laughter was everywhere, just like that day.

  It had been a mistake to come here. A stupid, stupid mistake.

  My tears were ready to spill out. I had no idea why this asshole was targeting me, but I didn’t plan to wait to find out. I swiveled around, but he reached for me and grabbed my forearm, preventing my escape.

  “Where are you going, Jessie? Do you want to miss your welcome party?”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “My welcome party?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the students around us. “What do you say, guys? Do you want to throw a welcome party for Jessica?”

  My heart raced wildly against my ribs; I knew a disaster was about to happen. The guy stepped aside, and reality distorted into something utterly ugly as students started pelting me with food.

  Before I could even react, vari
ous foods hit me right in the face. I raised my arms to shield my head, but the rest of my body was completely exposed, and I flinched with pain each time I was hit. I was degraded into nothing.

  I fell to my knees, my legs too weak to hold me up. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I couldn’t.

  Each second brought more pain and humiliation, and my heart started to break into pieces. I burst into tears, hoping for this torture to end. This was unreal. It hurt. It hurt so much.

  Why isn’t anyone stopping this?

  Help…

  They’re horrible.

  Someone… Help me…

  Please help me…

  Pain exploded in my forehead when a carton of milk hit me and burst open, the milk drenching my whole face, but what hurt more was my heart. I was unable to make sense of this cruelty. It hurt so much.

  I opened my mouth to plead for them to stop, but a tall, skinny girl stepped between me and the others to protect me. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. My chest tightened with both relief and fear for her.

  “Stop this,” she yelled at the guy who’d started the whole thing.

  His face showed a mixture of fury and surprise. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “This is not okay! You’re hurting her! Don’t you see she is bleeding?!” She looked at me over her shoulder and met my gaze. I wondered if she could see just how frightened I felt—so frightened I hadn’t even realized I was bleeding.

  “Step aside, bitch.”

  “No.”

  He got in her face. “You’re going to regret this.”

  He yanked her by her hair and pushed her to the ground, ripping a few hairs out.

  I can’t believe him! This jerk was more than vile.

  He signaled to the others to throw food at us, but then the cafeteria doors flew open and the principal came in. Finally.

  “What is going on here?” He reached us in a few quick strides. “Jesus Christ!”

  The shock wore me down, and my shaking intensified. I wasn’t able to stop crying, aware of how freaky I must have been looking covered in all sorts of food and liquids.

  He crouched next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked, but I couldn’t find the strength to form the words.

  “She needs to see the nurse. She’s hurt,” the tall girl told him.

  He frowned when he spotted something on my forehead, which I assumed was the wound from the sharp edge of the milk carton. He stood up. “Who is responsible for this?”

  The silence that ensued was worse than anything. No one would stand up against these bullies? Unbelievable.

  “Jones, to my office,” the principal said to the guy who had started the debacle.

  Yes! There was some justice, after all.

  He gave him a murderous glare. “Why me?”

  “Don’t play innocent, Jones. This is not the first time something like this happened, and most of the time you are involved.”

  “That’s not right, Mr. Anders. I just happened to be here trying to help these girls. Isn’t that right?” he asked the two guys next to him, and they nodded in response.

  What the heck? They were horrible! They were bullies and despicable liars.

  “Either way, to my office, Jones. Now. You too, Decker. I want you in my office now.”

  “Okay,” the girl replied. “May I take Jessica to the nurse first?”

  “You may, but be quick about it.” He faced the whole cafeteria. “Why are you still standing there? I want this mess cleaned up right away!”

  I leaned against the girl as I rose up to my feet, feeling like my legs might give out on me at any moment. Everyone stared at me, and shame swallowed me whole. I didn’t want to return here ever again.

  “Can you walk?” she asked as she put her arm around my shoulder for support. She was a true gem.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay then. Let’s see the nurse.”

  I nodded, immensely grateful, before I looked one last time at the monster who had put me through this. His eyes were two pools of contempt and zero remorse as he stared at me. My stomach churned with revulsion. I’d never felt such a strong aversion toward someone, and I wished I’d never have to see him again.

  Somehow, however, I sensed this was only the beginning and I was in for a long and terrible ride.

  Present

  End of February

  Benjamin Franklin said nothing can be certain in this world but death and taxes.

  He was wrong because now, as I sat right in front of my bully in U.S. history, I could easily add another thing to that list.

  Nothing can be certain in this world but death, taxes, and Blake Jones’ torture.

  Blake just had to sit right behind me in this class. He just had to.

  I was hyperaware of his nearness every second of this dreadfully long class. Goose bumps broke out on my skin each time I sensed him move, and I could hardly bear it. I had to fight to keep my breathing even, hoping I didn’t look like a complete weirdo to my classmate, Marcus, who sat next to me.

  That hope waned by the minute because Blake made sure to smear my image in front of him as much as possible. He jeered at me whenever Marcus leaned in to whisper something to me while our teacher scribbled on the blackboard, and I was losing my patience. My heart raced at the prospect of a fight with a guy who was the most complex and callous person I’d ever met.

  Blake Jones. Even his name itself gave me the shivers.

  He represented a long, distressing story, one that had started on my first day as a senior at this school. He’d bullied me from the moment he laid eyes on me and made my life at East Willow High nightmarish. I’d experienced bullying in middle school and at my previous high school, but that couldn’t compare with what I went through with Blake, not by a long shot.

  Blake had been crushing me day by day. He tainted my self-image to the point where I disliked everything about myself—from my looks to my personality—and even with therapy, I struggled to remember that I shouldn’t care about his insults and should love myself the way I was.

  My therapist, Susan, reminded me time and again that I was a beautiful and special girl and Blake was likely only projecting his insecurities onto me, but logical thinking didn’t mean much each time he hurt me and brought me to tears.

  I was a coward. I was the type of person who would run away at the sight of danger or wait for others to save her, which Blake liked to point out often. He would call me a wimp and double his abuse, just so he could see me crack and beg for his mercy. I constantly lived in fear of his abuse or retaliation if I stood up against him in any way.

  I never told anyone about the time he broke into my locker and stole my pads and my period leaked through my jeans by the time my classes finished. The walk out of school was horrifyingly humiliating. Blake was there to document it with his phone, of course.

  I also never told anyone he dumped a cigarette butt into my meticulously curled hair as he passed me by, telling me I would catch on fire. Washed over with horror, I tried to remove the lit butt before it burned my hair, only to find out he’d already put out the cigarette before he threw it in. I spent hours crying in my room, unable to understand how someone could traumatize people like that.

  Then there was the time he broke into my locker again and left a pile of trash. I reported him to the principal, but he told me I didn’t have proof it was Blake who did it and refused to do anything against him. This didn’t come as a surprise, as he hadn’t helped me after my “welcome party” six months earlier either. The school didn’t have cameras, and since no one had stepped up as a witness, it was my word against Blake’s. Blake’s father was Enfield’s mayor, so it was clear whose word had more value in this corrupted school.

  Blake had been outraged because I tattled on him to the principal, so he’d gotten back at me by photoshopping my face onto a picture of a woman in a corset and stockings with a whip in her hand and her foot planted on a mini fridge. H
e sent this to one of his football buddies, who posted it on his Instagram and captioned it “Food Slut.” The nickname stuck with me in the following months, reminding me that each time I fought back, Blake was there to make things even worse.

  I never knew why he hated me. I never did anything to him, yet he constantly inflicted more and more fear in me until I was close to giving up on my new life in Enfield and returning to my hometown to live with my aunt and uncle. However, I’d made best friends here, and I didn’t want to disappoint my parents by giving up.

  Blake had stopped bullying me at one point. By some miraculous twist of fate, he stopped harassing me after New Year’s, and I thought I could finally have my days free from his cruelty, but then I was proved wrong because he was back at it again lately. I should’ve known peace wouldn’t last.

  Now, Marcus had a front seat to my humiliation, and I wished the ground would swallow me up. Or swallow Blake, whichever would be better. The class couldn’t finish soon enough.

  “Fats,” Blake whispered into my ear. I turned rigid because his lips were almost touching my earlobe.

  It had been a bad decision to wear a braid today.

  “Turn around.” His breath caressed my neck, and my stomach flipped.

  I pursed my lips as I stared at one spot in my textbook. His fragrance messed me up. It was unfair that he smelled this good.

  “You’ll turn around, unless you want me to tell your wannabe boyfriend you’re a bad kisser.”

  My cheeks reddened at the reminder of one of the biggest mistakes of my life, accompanied by a stab of pain in my chest because he’d called me a bad kisser.

  I glared at him over my shoulder. “Will you stop it already? And he isn’t my wannabe boyfriend.”

  He formed a malicious smile, raising his phone, and snapped a photo of my sneer. “Look at you.” He snarled at the photo, as if he was looking at an abomination. “You’re a walrus. Now, I only have to use the dog filter and send it to your wannabe boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll pee his pants from laughing.”

  My eyes widened. I reached for his phone in an attempt to delete it along with the other photos he’d taken earlier in class, but Blake wasn’t our football team captain for nothing. His reflexes were extraordinary.