Chapter 18
Ruby
The weekend passes quickly.
Far too quickly, because although it’s sunny and beautiful outside, Atwood won’t let me leave the castle. He has Alice follow my every move, even going so far as to have her stand outside the bathroom whenever I have to pee.
It’s humiliating for me, but I can tell that Alice enjoys it, because now she has plenty of time to insult my every move.
It feels like every five seconds she’s saying things to me like “Stand up straighter, don’t slouch,” or “We’ll have to work on your table manners, you pig,” or “Your slovenly appearance is no fit for a future princess.” With each snide comment, with each pinch of my belly to exclaim how fat I am, and with each comparison to the stranger named “Luna” I can feel myself beginning to break.
I think that Alice wants me to break. She wants me to lose my temper and go on a rampage that will finally get me kicked out of the castle. In a way, I want that to happen so that Tamara and I can just go back to our old life. But… I don’t think it would work out like that. Although Atwood has proven to be unbiased and fair in regards to our hybridism, and supposedly has plans to treat hybrids more fairly, I’m not convinced that he wouldn’t change his mind if I do something stupid.
Thankfully, I manage to control myself over the weekend despite Alice’s nagging. I try to spend some time reading but find myself unable to focus with Alice hovering, and Tamara is busy with physical therapy to recover from her wounds so I don’t have much of a chance to spend time with her. Atwood barely leaves his office.
The only thing that gives me a little bit of joy is putting on my training clothes with my new sneakers and jogging around the castle. It feels good to move my body, and feels even better to hear Alice grumble when she can’t keep up. She can’t even complain, because there are no rules against exercising and besides, jogging will probably make me lose weight just like she wants.
At one point while I’m jogging before dinner on Sunday, I manage to lose Alice as I wind my way through the massive corridors. A smile spreads across my face when I realize that I am finally alone for the first time since yesterday morning.
I’ve been jogging for two hours, so at this point I’m really winded and decide to stop for a breather in a small alcove. I lean against the wall, panting with sweat dripping down the back of my neck. It’s then that I look over to my right to see a pair of closed double doors across the narrow hall. It looks dark inside the room, and I’ve never seen this room before, so I become curious and cross the hall to peek inside.
I cup my hands around my eyes to see through the window. The windows are covered in heavy curtains, making it very dark. However, my night vision allows me to see everything pretty clearly.
The room is full of furniture that is covered in white sheets. Everything looks dusty, and cobwebs hang from practically every surface. On the back of the couch, I can even see a spider skitter around on its web.
Yuck.
As I’m about to walk away, something catches my eye. What looks like a large painting is hung above the unlit fireplace, but I can’t see what it looks like because a sheet hangs over it. A corner of the gilded frame sticks out from underneath the sheet, but that’s it.
“Come away from there this instant,” Alice barks suddenly from behind me, causing me to jump. Her face is beet red.
“Off to bed with you. No dinner tonight.”
When I arrive at school on Monday morning, I am met with silent hallways rather than a huge hug from Nancy. Everyone seems to be staring at me and whispering to each other as I nervously walk to my locker.
I reach my locker and gasp, dropping my book bag. On the locker, someone has written something in red marker.
“WHORE”
Someone nearby snickers as they walk past.
I’m confused as to why this word in particular was chosen. Does it have something to do with Friday night? I gulp and open my locker. My hands shake as I prepare my things for my first class.
Nancy silently comes up to her locker and opens it without a word.
“Nancy, what’s going…” I begin, but my words trail off as I realize that she’s avoiding eye contact and quickly rifling through her locker.
“Nancy?”
She slams her locker door shut and stares solemnly at her feet.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she says, her voice shaking, before running away.
I look around confusedly. Tears well up in my eyes and I try to hide my face in my locker as I get ready for class, but I know that people are watching me like a hawk.
When I get to class, the boys are gathered around one desk and looking at something on a phone. One of them looks up when I come in and whispers something so that the boy holding the phone quickly exits out of whatever they were looking at with a smirk.
I have to ignore them. I can’t get in trouble again.
I sit down at my desk and quietly take out my stationery.
Just then, a wad of paper hits the side of my face. I look over to see one of the girls glaring at me and giggling behind her hand. It seems that there is something written on the paper, so I open it.
“THIEF”
When I read the paper, all of the students begin laughing. What does this mean? Why is the bullying escalating like this?
The boys in front of me start talking to each other, seemingly not caring to whisper or hide their conversation.
“What do you think of her body?” one says with a sneer.
“Average at best,” another replies. “But her posture is very lewd. She seems experienced.”
“How much would it cost for her to sleep with us for one night, do you think?”
“Hmmm… Probably not much, but let’s ask.”
The boys all turn their eyes to me in unison.
I’m not sure what to say or do, so I try my best to avoid eye contact. The only thing I can think of doing is to look at my phone and hope that the teacher comes in soon to start class. I pull my phone out of my bag and open it for the first time today to see dozens, no, hundreds of social media notifications.
All of the notifications seem to be comments with my social media username attached.
“@rubyjones117 ur such a dirty little whore.”
“@rubyjones117 do u take cash for ur services?”
“@rubyjones117 it makes sense that u would steal food at the party, so u can stuff ur fat little pig face in private later. oink oink!”
My eyes widen as I scroll through the notifications. Finally, my gaze is caught by one that particularly stings. It’s from Nancy, but it’s a text rather than a social media notification.
“I don’t care about the food, but I can’t believe you ditched me last night to go and be a slut. Lose my number.”
Tears well up in my eyes and my face grows red. With shaking hands, I decide to open the social media app.
My worst fears are confirmed when the first thing I see is a photo of me. It’s been posted by an anonymous account called “@xxrubytheprostitutexx”. The photo shows me laying on the floor with a drunken, dazed look on my face and my panties and breasts exposed. There is another pair of lacy girls’ panties laying on the floor next to my hand, and a piece of paper laid across my belly that reads: “Will fuck 4 free food”.
A sob comes up and gets caught in my throat along with the feeling that I might vomit as well.
I click on the profile, where there are several other photos of me, all posted late last night when I was sleeping. One in which I’m putting food in my purse from the buffet. Another where it looks like I’m chugging champagne even though I vividly remember only taking sips, and another where my cheeks are full from the creme puff I ate with Earl, who is conveniently cropped out.
There are other photos of me too from my first day of transfer. Me walking up the stairs in my all-white uniform as a boy sticks his tongue out between two fingers in a lewd manner behind me, another where I’m kneeling on the floor with coffee all over my uniform. A photo of me crying in the bathroom and a photo of me in my ratty gym clothes with sweat caked all over me in the midst of tripping over a soccer ball during training.
With each passing moment, the number of notifications on my phone is growing
I am stunned beyond all belief.
