A Raven And Her Wolves

A Raven And Her Wolves

fumzzy

5.0
Comment(s)
1.5K
View
233
Chapters

"Girls like you aren't exactly welcomed at a place like this, so keep your head down and look the other way." Those were the exact words of my social worker when she dropped me in my newest hellhole, a place for "troubled teens." I didn't listen, and now I'm on their radar. They expect me to play along in their games of hierarchy, to fall in line in the social order they've deemed me fit. Too bad for them, I don't follow rules. Too bad for me, they're determined to make sure I do. Inconceivably attractive and treated like kings...these are the boys of Brayshaw High. And I'm the girl who got in their way.

Chapter 1 1

(Raven's POV)

Walk away.

Move your feet, exit this piece of shit cafeteria, and go get high. Chill out.

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I keep walking, and I'm almost free and clear, almost through the door and away from the trouble I surely don't need but can't seem to escape.

But of course, nothing in my life is simple and just before my left foot joins my right, the final step through the open door, the bitch decides she's not done and runs her mouth. Again.

"Maybe if she wasn't such a slut her whore mom wouldn't have kicked her out for sleeping with her new man."

The laughter echoes, growing louder until it wraps around my throat like my mother's hands when in a fit, choking me until I lose focus.

I stop where I stand.

My eyes haze, rage winning over the calm bravado I attempted to force myself into.

"Trailer trash, bitch."

More laughs.

And there it is, the push.

Why do they always push?

Before anyone can stop me, not that there's anyone who would give a shit to, I snatch the closest tray off the nearest table and in one swift move, one hard, full swing, smash it across the side of her face.

The cheap red plastic breaks against her head and screams ring around me.

Blood pours from the big mouthed bitch's forehead and she shrieks, her horrified gaze flying to mine. I wait until our stares connect, then quickly kick her chair sideways. Panic grows in her eyes as she crashes to the floor.

There's no time to escape, not that I have anywhere to go.

People scream, but no one dares to step closer to me. The lunch lady calls for help and everyone rushes to the asshole on the floors side because she's 'the victim.' Sure, I got physical first, but she started it. What did she expect?

If you can't take it, don't dish it.

And, yeah, the spat wasn't a lie, my mother is a whore. The dirtiest of dirty. Straight trailer trash at its finest, I'll admit it all day.

But she doesn't get to say it.

And I sure as shit couldn't let her get away with disrespecting me the way she did, publicly.

Not sure how she managed it, but my mother, the failure she is, taught me one thing - to keep my pride above all else.

Apparently, that's all a girl like me can control.

So disrespect me not.

"My office! Now!" Principal Folk screeches. He doesn't call me by name, doesn't look my way, but why would he? Here I stand, caught red-handed - literally still holding half of the tray in my hand - as always.

He probably knew it was me the second someone called for help, before even walking in here.

I toss the tray to the floor and head straight to my home away from home - the cheap wooden chair with a ripped-up burgundy center that sits directly across from the principal's desk.

Monday was, as he warned, my "last strike," but yesterday I got caught smoking behind the gym, and I'm still here. Today's Thursday.

Wonder if he's in another forgiving mood?

I'm guessing not when forty-five minutes later he charges in and slams himself into the seat, glaring at me through his little nerd glasses.

His anger probably has something to do with the loud mouth girl – who very well may still be bleeding all over the stark white cafeteria floor – being his niece.

My fucking bad.

His eyes narrow as he judges me and my too-tight top and ripped-up jeans.

So I smirk, taunt him a bit.

Because there's nothing this guy could say or do that could possibly be as fucked as every other day in my reality.

I grab the edge of the chair and lean forward. "Give it to me, Mr. Folk."

His eyes widen a fraction of an inch and as if he can't help himself, quickly cut to my top.

Men, they have no self-control.

Well look at that, another thing learned from my mother.

"Clearly you don't want to be here, Ms. Carver. Every time I issue a warning you come back twice as hard."

When a slow grin stretches across my face, he clears his throat and looks away.

"This is your third high school in eighteen months and honestly, you're lucky you lasted here so long."

"Am I... Mr. Folk?" I drop back against the seat. "You sure you're not-"

"Stop." He glares before sighing. "This is serious. You've got the entire school's attention now. I can't make this go away."

I roll my eyes. "Just get on with it already. Where to next?"

He eyes me a moment before folding his hands and leaning forward against the desk. "I made a call."

My eyes slice to his.

"Your social worker-"

"I don't have a social worker."

"Apparently you do. She contacted me a few months back and-"

"Months?"

"Raven, listen-"

Right then, the secretary ushers in some dark-haired lady wearing slacks and a button-down. She reaches over the desk to shake the principal's hand.

"Mr. Folk, I'm Maria Vega."

"Ms. Vega, I appreciate you coming so quickly." He turns to me as does she.

"Hey there." She gives a fake hello, her roaming eyes and tight-lipped smile more curious than anything. "Do you mind if we talk for a bit?"

I don't bother speaking. No matter what I do or don't say here, she's already got me figured out as far as she's concerned.

"Mr. Folk and I have been in contact over the last semester. He's briefed me on your home situation and past issues, and at this time, we think it's best you be removed from your mother's care."

A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. 'My mother's care' she says. Please.

The woman stares at me for a moment before sighing. She's quick to lose the sweet, caring woman act. "Look, I get it. You don't care what I have to say, fine. But we are removing you from the home. I'll take you to grab your things and then it's a day's trip to your new housing. It's a bit different, you being as old as you are, but we have a safe place for you."

"Yeah? They make cookies and tuck you in at bedtime? Or is that job left to the man there who creeps into the little girls' rooms at night?"

The woman's eyes narrow and Mr. Folk sighs. "Is there something you need to tell me, Ms. Carver?"

Continue Reading

Other books by fumzzy

More

You'll also like

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

Qing Shui
5.0

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book