All Chapters of Pregnant For My Bully : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Whitney’s words wrap around me like cold chains, making me stay locked to the ground. My throat dries, and I clench my hands so tight my nails dig into my palm, even the bandaged and casted one throbbing with pain. I don’t answer her. I can’t. My voice wouldn’t even come out right now.I have no idea why. Every other person had backed off, and for a moment, I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I'll be let off today.Whitney’s group slowly circles me like vultures, their faces painted with fake pity and mocking grins. One of them, Sabrina, leans forward and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘I heard you were showing off your cast and bandages to Jonathan in the hospital. Was that your grand plan? Play the weak little girl to get his attention?’‘Did you know that, Whitney?’ She looks up at Whitney whose eyes are fixed on me, staring daggers at me.A few snickers follow. My heart sinks deeper into my stomach, and my body stiffens. I lower my head, not wanting to stare at them.

Seraphina's POVI stand in front of the mirror, staring at myself like I don’t even know the girl looking back. The long-sleeved bodycon dress hugs my body, but the sleeves cover every mark, every bruise I don’t want the world to see. My hair’s a mess, just twisted into a bun, loose strands falling out no matter how many times I try to fix it. I don’t care enough to fix it anymore.Mom keeps walking around behind me, fixing her makeup for the tenth time. She looks excited, like this dinner means something big. For me, it’s just another night I have to survive.‘Fix your hair at least,’ she says, giving me a pointed look from the door.I tug at a loose strand but don’t bother trying. ‘It’s fine.’She huffs but lets it go. I know she wants tonight to be perfect. I also know I’m going to ruin it, no matter how polite I try to be. I can’t fake it. Not today.When we arrive at the Hill’s mansion, the place is too clean, too perfect, like it’s dressed up for a magazine photo. Mr. Hill stand

~ Seraphina's POV I don’t look back as I walk toward the house. I don’t care if I’m limping a little. I don’t care if my dress is torn or that I probably look like shit. My palms sting and there’s blood drying on them, crusting under my nails. I wipe them on the side of my dress, but it only smears the red into dark patches. I feel gross. So gross. Inside, the lights are warm and soft, but they don’t make me feel any better. I head straight for the nearest guest bathroom, ignoring the looks the helps in the house are giving me. I lock the door behind me, taking a deep breath. Then I finally look in the mirror. God. I look tired. My hair’s a mess, my eyes are red. The smeared makeup makes me look like I’ve been crying for hours even though I didn’t let myself shed a single tear back there. I had made sure I held it in good. Ray? He is more a jerk than I have pictured him in my head. I run the tap and hold my hands under the water. The sting from the little stab is shar

~ Seraphina’s POVCeline falls asleep first.One minute we are talking about how unfortunate Luke Henderson is and she’s rambling about how hot the new physics teacher is, and the next her head is on my shoulder, her mouth is slightly open, and her is breathing soft and steady. I don’t move her. I just sit there, staring at the ceiling in the glow of my bedside lamp, my body stiff and wide awake.Sleep feels like a luxury I can’t afford. There are lots of things in my head that I would see when I sleep and I would rather not. Until I have calmed my soul down.I look down at my wrapped hands. The image of the man who had chased me back at Jonathan’s house flashed in my head. I shudder. The bandages are a little dirty from all the movement tonight. I’ll need to change them. The ache from the wound is dull now, but it is steady and pulsing. I’m starting to get used to it though. The way pain just becomes part of the background noise if you pretend hard enough. I am used to it. Pain. I'm

~ Seraphina’s POV I blink. Not because I’m shocked by what he said, though that alone was enough to freeze the entire classroom, but because I was expecting the voice to come from someone else entirely. But it isn’t Jonathan. It’s the guy beside him. He is tall...looks over 6 foot and his eyes looks so sharp. Piercing. Like an eagle. I stare at his hair, the dark curls curling slightly over his forehead like they were sculpted on purpose. His blazer is hanging a little off one shoulder like he doesn’t really care what uniform rules are. His mouth is quirked at the corner, like he knows something no one else does. And he’s definitely not from here. Because I have never see him, but then...he looks somehow oddly and weirdly familiar, but I don’t know where or how to place it. I've never seen him before, but then there is this form of deja vu I get from staring at him and I.. I don't know how to place it. But right beside him—because the universe hates me—is Jonathan Hill. He is le