Breaking The Bully's Game Novel by Selena Anderson _ Novel





Breaking The Bully's Game Chapter 01

Beverly's POV

No one at Westside High would ever picture Horace Pitt with me. The school bully. The girl buried in books.
Yet we had been secretly dating for a year, and he was surprisingly obsessed with my body.
Except on the days I had my period, Horace was always trying to get me into bed. He would coax me into wearing all kinds of lingerie and trying out new positions.
Tonight was no different.
He stripped me bare and cuffed my wrists to the headboard with a pair of novelty cuffs. Hovering over me, he moved with a fierce, relentless intensity, like wanted to swallow me whole.
"Horace..." I moaned, my voice trembling as I clutched the sheets. "S-Slow down..."
With a low chuckle, he bit my earlobe. "Can't. Not when you're this tempting."
The tips of my ears burned, and my heart pounded wildly against my ribs.
Just as I was losing myself in the moment—
Horace’s phone rang, cutting through the quiet sharply.
He paused and glanced at the screen impatiently.
The moment he saw the caller ID, his gaze softened.
"Shelly?" He let go of me and rolled off the bed. "What's wrong?"
Sheila Pennington’s tearful voice came through the speaker. "Horace... My stomach hurts so bad. Can you come to the hospital?"
He frowned. “I’ll be right over.”
Then he hung up. He grabbed his clothes and pulled them on without looking at me before turning to leave.
"Horace!" I struggled, the handcuffs clinking sharply. "We..."
He paused at the door, glancing back with a perfunctory tone. "Just hang on. I'll satisfy you later. Be good."
With that, he left without another look.
The loud slam of the door left the room in sudden silence.
I stared at the ceiling. The cuffs bit painfully into my wrists—but the ache in my heart hurt far worse.
We had been together for a year. Yet more often than not, he would leave me behind for Sheila.
He wouldn’t come back tonight.
I remained handcuffed for the entire night, feeling dizzy and chilled to the bone.
It wasn’t until dawn that I finally managed to free myself. Exhausted, I got dressed and headed to the hospital.
My throat burned. I was probably running a fever.
After the doctor gave me a prescription and told me to get an IV, I clutched the paper and walked down the corridor in a daze. Then I stopped abruptly outside a half-open door.
Inside, I saw Horace.
He sat by the bed. The black t-shirt clung to his narrow waist, and that roguish face—high cheekbones, straight nose, and thin lips—wore a tender expression as he watched Sheila sleep.
"Horace, you're totally into Sheila. Why are you even with Beverly?" His friend asked. "Beverly's so plain and frumpy. Nothing going for her except book smarts. What do you even see in her?"
Horace scoffed and leaned back lazily. "Yeah, she's average-looking, but she's got a killer body. Good for practice."
After a pause, he flashed a wicked grin. "Wouldn't want to lose control and hurt Shelly once we're together."
His friend clicked his tongue, teasing, "A killer body? Prove it. Let me see for myself. Good friends share, right?"
Horace smirked. "Get out of here."
I stood frozen outside the door, feeling the blood in my veins turn ice cold.
Horace’s words sliced through my heart like a knife.

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