Three years ago, I begged him to let me go. He stepped on my hand, looked down at me from his pedestal, and called me trash. Three years later, he knelt on the ground, crying and begging me not to leave him. I looked at him and gave him back the exact words he once gave me. 1 When the school bullies cornered me in the alley, I sent one last desperate message to my online boyfriend. At that exact moment, the ringleader's phone buzzed. Cole Sterling pulled out his phone. The cold cruelty in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a soft warmth I had never seen on him. He typed: [Be good, Summer. I'm busy. Wait for me.] As soon as he hit send, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the special notification tone I had set for my boyfriend. I looked up in disbelief. He stood under the streetlamp, the sharp jawline and refined features perfectly matching the photos of my sweet, gentle "C.S." But the way he held a cigarette between his lips, the darkness radiating off him... it was a world apart from the boy in the pictures. For a moment, I couldn't tell if he was my perfect boyfriend, C.S., or Wendy Hart's psycho boyfriend, Cole Sterling. "Leo, that’s the bitch who slashed my bag!" Wendy screeched, pointing a manicured finger at me. "She's just jealous because she's poor!" "I didn't..." I hadn't touched Wendy's bag. That day, Wendy had tried to slap me for no reason. I dodged, she tripped, and her $20,000 Birkin scraped against the concrete. She demanded I pay for it. When I couldn't, she told me to wait—her boyfriend, Cole Sterling, would "teach me a lesson." I knew who Cole was. He was the heir to the Sterling empire. Rumor had it he was untouchable, ruthless, and feared by everyone. They called him the Devil of North High. I just never imagined that my kind, gentle "C.S." and the Devil were the same person. Cole walked toward me, step by step. The warm yellow streetlamp light washed over him, but his eyes were ice cold. His tall frame loomed over me, suffocating. My fingers curled into fists as his voice cut through the air. "Two choices. Pay up, or get on your knees and apologize." The cold arrogance was unrecognizable from the boy in my phone. I don't know what came over me. Maybe my brain short-circuited. I looked him in the eye and said, "Do you believe me? I didn't ruin her bag." Cole stared at me for a second, then let out a scoff of pure disdain. "Ungrateful." He turned his back on me, his voice bored. "Teach her a lesson." My blood froze. His goons forced me to my knees. Slaps rained down on my face; kicks landed on my stomach. I was in so much pain I couldn't even scream. Cole leaned against the wall, indifferent to the violence behind him. He stared at his phone screen with a tender smile, waiting for a reply. I curled into a ball, tears streaming down my face. After the beating, I lay on the ground for three hours before I could move. Two of my teeth were loose. My shirt was soaked in blood. I didn't dare tell my parents. They were hardworking immigrants struggling just to keep the lights on. I was bullied because I was poor. "Trailer trash," "Charity case," "Selling you wouldn't cover the tax." Every insult taught me one thing: poverty strips you of dignity. "Ouch..." I applied antiseptic to my wounds in the dark. My phone kept dinging. It was C.S. [Summer baby, are you home?] [It's late. Why aren't you replying?] [Did I do something to make you mad?] Reading his sweet texts now made me feel sick. I typed and deleted a dozen responses. Finally, I sent: [Did you just go to the library tonight?] He paused for a second, then replied. 2 [Yeah! I studied hard today!] To prove it, he sent a photo of himself in the library. In the picture, he wore a crisp white shirt, smiling like a sunbeam next to a bookshelf. He looked like the perfect gentleman. It was all a lie. I was glad I never sent him my photo. I was glad he didn't recognize me. It gave me a chance to see the monster beneath the skin. I didn't dare skip school. I couldn't afford to fall behind. During morning study hall, Wendy dragged me into the girls' bathroom. Her clique surrounded me at the sinks. "Summer, you still have the nerve to show up? Wasn't last night enough?" "Haha, maybe she likes it. She's ugly and poor; thick skin is all she has." "No wonder her name is Summer—she sweats like a pig!" They poured a bucket of dirty mop water over my head. The stench made me gag. "Ugh, Summer, you really are disgusting." Wendy grabbed my hair, slapped me twice, then washed her hands like she had touched garbage and left. I slid down the tiled wall, burying my face in my knees to stop the sobs. They locked me in there until lunch. I thought that was the end of it. But Wendy wasn't done. My desk was trashed. My homework vanished. The teachers stopped believing my excuses. Wendy was everywhere, haunting me. After school, I stayed in the library until closing to avoid her. But she was waiting at the gate with her crew. She slapped the thermos out of my hand. Splash. Coffee exploded over my legs, staining my only pair of white jeans. I looked up in anger, about to speak, but caught Cole’s warning glare. He stood next to her, smoking, looking at me like I was dirt. "What, Summer? You got a problem?" Wendy shoved me. I fell backward, landing in the puddle of coffee and mud. It smelled like earth and humiliation. Her friends laughed, calling me a pig rolling in slop. They tried to force my face into the puddle. Just as my nose touched the liquid, the librarian came out to lock up. "Hey! What's going on?" Wendy and her minion let go instantly. Wendy flashed a sweet smile. "We're just playing Truth or Dare with Summer!" "Yeah, Summer lost. She has to drink the coffee on the ground!" "No!" I shook my head, looking at the librarian with pleading eyes. "Ma'am, they're forcing me." The librarian frowned. Before she could speak, Wendy cut in. "Ma'am, don't listen to her. She's just a sore loser!" "Yeah, Summer, don't be a baby. It's just a game." They outnumbered me. Their story was consistent. The librarian bought it. She glared at me. "Alright, enough games. Go home." She left. She didn't want to deal with it. Wendy looked down at me, triumphant. "See, Summer? No one believes you." "You can tell whoever you want. I have a hundred ways to get away with it. You don't." 3 I sat in the puddle long after the campus lights went out. I walked home like a zombie. My mom was slamming dishes in the sink. "Look at you! Filthy again! I don't have money to buy you new clothes!" "Wasting time on art... why can't you be like your cousin? She works hard and doesn't dream about useless things." I was numb to her complaints. But tonight, I wanted to cry. I locked myself in my room. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Cole. [Summer, are you done studying?] [Reply to me!] [Baby, did I do something wrong? You're so cold lately.] [Don't ignore me. It breaks my heart.] His heart? Right. He would be heartbroken. Even though we were just online, I knew how dependent he was on me. He demanded 24/7 attention. He told me about his broken home, his mother’s death, the darkness that consumed his childhood. I had been his light. I walked him out of that darkness. Since then, he was like a puppy, baring his belly to me. He once said: [Baby, you are the only light in my life.] [I'm becoming better for you. I'm studying, eating right... becoming the Prince you deserve.] [I love you most. Never leave me...] I remembered his words. Then I remembered him watching Wendy torment me. I asked him: [Cole, if someone bullied you, what would you do?] [I'd destroy them. Make them regret ever being born.] [Why? Is someone bullying you, Summer? Tell me. I'll kill them for you.] [Nothing.] I didn't need him. Cole Sterling, I have my own ways to make people regret being born. 4 In art class, Wendy walked by my easel and knocked over my water bucket. She ripped my canvas in half. "Summer, trash like you doesn't deserve to paint. Art is expensive. Can your parents even afford the paint?" She sashayed away. I cleaned up the mess. I washed my brushes in the sink, watching the pigment swirl down the drain. I felt eyes on me. I turned. Cole. He was leaning against the doorframe, smoking. His eyes were full of mockery. I gripped my brush. When I tried to leave, he blocked me. "Apologize to Wendy tomorrow." "I didn't break her bag." I met his gaze. The next second, he pressed the burning end of his cigarette into my arm. "Cut the crap!" "It's a twenty-thousand-dollar bag. Just apologize. Don't be stupid." "I don't have patience. Apologize, or you know what happens." Cole left. I clutched my burned arm, tears falling silently. That night, my mom nagged me to quit art again. My dad told her to stop. Before bed, Dad came to me. "Just study hard. We'll pay for art school." I looked at his premature white hair and his glass eye. He had lost an eye protecting me from a stray dog when I was little. "Dad, I'll get a scholarship. I'll make money." He smiled. "Are you okay? You seem off." I shook my head. "I'm fine." I wouldn't worry them. Wendy thought I was soft. But did I have to swallow it just because I was poor? I had the security footage from the mall where Wendy tripped and scratched her own bag. I saved it. I had photos of my bruises. I had recordings from the library. Cole was blowing up my phone. 99+ messages. [Summer, what are you doing? Why won't you talk to me?] [Did I mess up? Tell me, I'll fix it.] [Summer... are you dumping me?] He was panicking. Oh, Cole. You really do have a heart to break. Don't worry. The real pain hasn't even started yet. 5 I didn't answer his calls. I texted back: [I'm not dumping you.] [Really?] He was so insecure. [Then promise you won't ignore me. It hurts.] My fingers trembled. [Okay.] [You're the best. Summer, I want to meet you. Can I come find you?] We had agreed to meet after graduation. He couldn't wait anymore. He felt me slipping away. [Summer?] [You said you'd stay with me forever. You won't break your promise, right?] I felt a twinge of sadness. [Cole, you said you'd become a better person for me, right?] [Yeah, Summer. I'm trying.] He answered so quickly. As if the boy bullying me wasn't him. [Then you have to be kind. Justice matters. You can't do bad things.] Cole Sterling, I'm giving you a chance. You better not blow it. ... Wendy wasn't done. She took to the school forums. She posted a sob story about how I ruined her bag and refused to apologize. She played the victim perfectly. She said I was jealous of her wealth, that I was vain and burdened my poor parents. The internet mob turned on me. "Poor people are so toxic!" "If I can't have it, I'll break it? Disgusting." "Kick Summer out of school!" "I heard Cole slapped her. Good. She deserved it." Under the most viral post attacking me, I uploaded the video. Wendy tripping over her own feet. Scratching her own bag. Blaming me. The comments section went dead silent. I went to school. 6 Classmates apologized to me. The forum turned on Wendy. Justice is popular when the evidence is undeniable. Wendy became a pariah. She lost face. She wouldn't let this go. But would Cole help her this time? He promised me he'd be good. When Cole cornered me in the alley again with his crew, I got my answer. Wendy was screaming. "Summer, you bitch! You set me up!" "I'm going to kill you today!" I ignored her. I looked at Cole. "Cole, you saw the video. I'm innocent." I had sent it to his phone myself to make sure he saw it. He didn't look at me. He tossed his cigarette. "So what? You didn't do what I told you." His voice was ice. I laughed. I shouldn't have hoped. Cole was never the boy by the bookshelf. He was always this. Dark, selfish, cruel. "Summer thinks she can get away with it!" "Get her!" Someone pushed me. I hit the ground. Kicks and punches landed. It hurt, but I had two burner phones recording everything. Then, they went for my hands. "She paints with these, right? Shame." "Her family can't afford art school anyway. Let's do her a favor and break them." No! Art was my life! "Cole! Please! Stop them!" Cole turned. He looked at me. Like I was trash. "Ah!" A boot stomped on my hand. Bones crunched. The pain blinded me. "Cole... C.S...." My voice was fading. "You promised... you'd become the person I liked..." "You promised... no bad things..." Before I could finish, Cole’s face went white. He screamed, a sound of pure terror. "STOP! EVERYONE STOP!"
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