The Fourfold Desires

Fiona’s POV.

“Did you hear Fiona’s latest tryst?”

“I heard she was having an affair with the professor who was going through a nasty divorce.” Another whispered.

“She’s the lowest of the low. It’s no wonder she’s not liked.”

I could feel the venomous hatred and deceitful whispers floating around as I passed the hallway and swallowed painfully at the lump lodged in my throat. The beginnings of a panic attack and anxiety threatening to crush me was overwhelming as I fought to keep my expression blank and aloof to the vile rumors been spoken. They were all lies, naturally, yet I couldn’t do anything about it no matter how hard I tried to clear them. They just stuck like stubborn stains on a pristine white cloth.

Something hit the back of my head and exploded. It’s runny content slid with a disgustingly cold, wet sensation down my back to, landing splat on the floor. Mechanically, my fingers reached for the wetness behind my head, rubbing the wet sticky hair there before bringing it back to look at the slimy wetness dripping between my fingers. An egg. Fuck, that’s going to be hard to wash out. Not on mention the smell.

Choosing to ignore my assailant, I had barely walked two steps forward when vicious hands twisted my hair, hard. Pain exploded my scalp as I yelled, clawing angrily at the slender fingers digging their nails deeper into my scalp.

“Bring her here.” A soft voice ordered and I was roughly maneuvered backwards to meet a group of girls standing there whilst their leader stood in front of them. The hallway was awfully quiet and no one came to my rescue. There was a boy who did once, a very long time ago. His lifeless body ended up dangling from one of the tower’s parapet the next morning. After that incident everyone minded their business and not a word was spoken about his death.

“Can we please not do this today?” I ask already exhausted at the thought of the scene to come. They were itching for a fight and I was their punching bag.

The leader of the group, Helena, a tall girl with pretty hazel eyes and lustrous inky black hair, regarded me with an icy glare and before I could blink, her palm connected with my cheek in a cracking slap, the impact leaving me dazed. “The nerve of you to think you have a say.” She expressed, walking up to me with a scornful smile on her lips, leaning forward to whisper into my ear. “ You are a nobody with a target on your back. You should take it, no?” Her fingers gently caressed the side of my cheek with a goading smile stretching into a wide grin that was equal parts chilling and empty before forcefully grabbing me by the hair.

“Let me go! It hurts!” I yelled, pushing her hand away in vain.

“The only thing you can do…is take what I give you.” Helena whispered cruelly, tightening her grip even more before releasing her grip. Turning away with a dainty flip of her hair, she said to her group without looking at them, reaching for a lipstick from her designer bag to apply on her lips.

The circle closed in, hemming me in with no room to breathe, let alone escape. My stomach twisted, coiling with a sickening mix of nausea and dread as I caught the sneer on their faces, their twisted pleasure in watching me squirm. I felt cornered, and they knew it—fed off it.

The hall felt smaller, the walls seemed to curve in, trapping me with them, amplifying the rancid air of hatred and contempt. Their eyes were hungry, alive with some twisted pleasure as they watched me, waiting for me to break. And I was breaking, piece by piece, under their hands and voices, breaking in a way that went beyond bruises or blood.

The first slap came so suddenly that I barely registered it before the next one hit. Crack—again, harder this time. Each slap landed with precision, the sound sharp, echoing in my skull. I felt the burn spread across my skin, the ache growing as they left their marks on me. I didn’t even need a mirror to know my cheeks were swelling, red and raw. The pain was sharp, hot, like needles beneath my skin, but even then, it was nothing compared to what their words were doing to me.

Worthless,” they hissed. “Trash. Filthy omega. Nothing but a stain on the world.” Their words hit like punches, each one stabbing deeper, leaving wounds nobody would see. I wanted to tune them out, but their taunts were inescapable, filling every inch of the air I breathed, as if they were embedding themselves under my skin.

I could feel my face throbbing, my skin growing hot and swollen beneath each blow. My eyes stung as tears filled them, blurring the room, turning the mocking faces into a hateful haze. It was more than pain—humiliation welled up in me, leaving me stripped and exposed, laid bare for their twisted amusement. I could hear my breath hitching, see my fingers trembling as I tried to brace myself for the next slap, and the one after that.

I couldn’t stop the tears. They spilled over, hot and fast, blurring their faces until they became distorted shadows of hatred. I hated that they saw me cry, that they could see the way my body shook with each blow, each word. The humiliation settled in my gut like a stone, twisting and churning, and all I wanted was to disappear, to be anywhere but here.

But then came a whisper—small, hidden beneath the layers of pain and shame. It was a spark, buried under the rubble they’d made of me, a tiny ember of defiance. How much longer was I going to let them do this? How many more times would I stand here, taking it, feeling myself hollow out under their hatred?

The spark flared, rising through my veins, until it felt like fire coursed through me. I could feel it in my chest, in my fists, in the air burning in my lungs. I clenched my hands so hard my knuckles ached, and for a moment, everything narrowed to that feeling. The shame, the pain—all of it twisted and morphed into something else. Fury. Raw, unrestrained fury.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I threw myself forward, my fists lashing out, catching them off-guard. The impact jarred up my arm, my knuckles connecting with something solid, flesh and bone, and I barely registered the shock on their faces before I swung again. My hands hurt, my body shook with the adrenaline, but the pain was grounding, almost exhilarating—a reminder that I was still here, that they hadn’t broken me completely.

I got a nasty kick on my jaw for my trouble, the impact seemed to rattle my brain and skull at once, tiny dots of black appeared and danced in my vision as I struggled to maintain consciousness despite the pummeling and pain.

But there was only so much I could do. I was outnumbered and couldn’t take them on all at once. I saw many people from the crowd relentlessly pummeling my body walk by as if nothing happened. This was a normal occurrence in campus.

A foot collided with my face again, and I felt my teeth rattle from the impact. Blood spurted from my bruised lips as liquid copper filled my mouth. “Omega is the lowest trash. You should have died long ago…” one girl spat, kicking me hard in the ribs. I cried out as pain exploded, lacerating my frame.

The buzzing sounds of phones ringing simultaneously immediately ceased the brutal attacks on my body. Instinctively, I curled into a fetal position, shielding myself from the pain.

“The four Alphas are holding a party! They actually went back to China!” a girl exclaimed.

“Really?”

“I received the party invitation.”

“I don’t have anything to wear. We have to go shopping!” Another chimed, giddy with excitement.

“What are you wearing?”

I was thinking…”

The voices faded away as the crowd dispelled in their excitement for the party. My relief was short-lived— I only had a brief, fleeting moment to catch my breath—before a foot slammed into my stomach, driving the air from my lungs in a raw, strangled gasp.

Pain exploded through me, sharp and searing, as if a fire had ignited in my abdomen. I barely had time to curl up, instinctively clutching my stomach, before the next kick landed, harder, deeper, making my insides feel like they were being torn apart. The kicks came in brutal, relentless waves, each one striking with precision, each one wringing another broken breath from my lips. I could feel the bruises blooming beneath my skin, deep and throbbing, radiating pain with every shuddering gasp.

I laid there trembling heavily, trying to get my bruised body to move, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to leak from my eyes once again and the helpless whimper bubbling my throat. Eventually, I dragged my battered body from the ground, crawling towards my phone a few meters away only to see the shattered screen. I didn’t know what to do, except laugh and cry. Ignoring the pitiful glances my way and the pain bombarding my body, I stuffed the broken phone into my bag then walked towards the nearest bathroom to wash my face.

Grabbing a couple of paper towels, I soaked them with water before wiping large blood and dirt form my face which took a few minutes before hiding the prominent bruises with make up to look presentable and avoid questions I was in no mood for answering.

Grabbing my smashed phone, I dumped the bloodied paper in the waste bin as I exited the bathroom, ignoring my battered body. I should probably have my body checked for broken bones and internal bleeding. Opening my phone in its current state was a struggle but I managed. Panic stirred my guts at the long list of missed calls from the Luna. “Fuck…” I quickly dialed the number, agitated and uncertain of her reaction.

Luna’s angry shrill pierced my eardrums and I winced at the sharpness in her voice. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I was…caught up with something.” I finish belatedly, rubbing my temples at the beginnings of a headache.

“And this something doesn’t have a name?” she snapped at my silence.

“It’s just… something held me up, Luna.” I whispered, defeated and exhausted.

“The four Alphas and guests are all at home now, hurry up and come back home to me.”

My heart stuttered to stop at her words. “They’re… at home?...” I couldn’t hear what the Luna said over the loud roar of blood rushing into my ears, this crippling fear and anxiety had me rooted to ground as a memory I had suppressed all these years came crashing back with full force.

Oh no…