Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 44: Slap

Chapter 44: Slap

- Kathrine Andrews: ( Song of the Chapter: Desire by MEG MYERS)

I stood there, staring into Glyndon’s eyes, daring her to challenge me.

I hated her. I hated the way she and her group made me feel for being gay and hated even more the pain she caused me over the past three years.

She could have stopped it. She could have told her friends to stop tormenting me for being gay, but she didn’t.

She stood by and watched. And now? Now she thinks she can act possessive over me? As if she has any right? That will never happen.

She looked at me, her lips parting to speak, but all that came out was stammered nonsense.

Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came. Until finally, she managed to say, "No. What the f—what makes you think—I’m not gay. I don’t like you. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want any of this."

A smirk spread across my face as I watched her flounder. Her words should have hurt, but they didn’t. They only fueled me.

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel her nervous energy.

My hand shot out, gripping her throat, and I saw the shock in her eyes as I tightened my hold. She clawed at my wrists, her breaths shallow and desperate. But I didn’t let go.

I leaned in until my lips hovered over hers, my voice low and dangerous. "And it better stay this way," I hissed. "Because you are nothing but a plaything to me. Do you understand? A plaything that I enjoy playing with. Don’t you dare think you have any rights over me? Don’t you dare think you can tell me what to do?"

I tightened my grip for a moment longer, savoring the panic in her eyes, before I shoved her hard.

She stumbled back, crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. Her whimper was pitiful, almost enough to stir something in me—but I quickly buried it.

She pissed me off last night, talking as if she owned me as if she had some claim over me. She needed to be reminded of her place.

I didn’t spare her another glance. Grabbing my purse, I turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

The faint sound of her quiet sobs trailed after me, but I didn’t care. I headed straight to where the other students were gathered with the teachers, ready to put as much distance between us as possible.

I headed straight to my group of friends. Brandon noticed something was off right away.

He grabbed my forearm gently, pulling me closer to his side. "Hey, are you okay? What happened?"

I forced a smile, hoping it would hide the turmoil brewing inside me. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired," I said quickly, brushing it off. "What are we doing today?"

He studied me for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully he didn’t push. Instead, he answered, "We’re heading to the Eiffel Tower today."

I nodded, pretending to share his enthusiasm, but then he paused and looked at me again. "Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look like yourself."

Of course, I didn’t look like myself. How could I? My mind was still racing, replaying every word, every action, every arrogant look Glyndon had given me.

How she thought she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, without caring about the consequences.

Without taking responsibility for her words or her actions. But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I faked another smile. "I’m fine, really," I lied.

Brandon hesitated for a moment longer, but eventually, he let it go and rejoined the group. He went straight to his boyfriend, Michael, who instantly welcomed him with open arms, wrapping an arm protectively around Brandon’s waist.

We started walking toward the buses. Thankfully, this time the teachers didn’t insist on separating the boys and girls, so I got to sit with my friends.

As everyone boarded, Glyndon entered the bus. She didn’t sit with Alex right away. Instead, she paused, her eyes scanning the rows. And then, they locked on me.

I froze for a second, but I refused to look back at her. I couldn’t let her know she was getting to me.

Her gaze lingered, intense and probing as if she was trying to figure out what I was thinking. Or maybe she was expecting me to say something.

I didn’t.

I turned my attention to my friends, who were already chatting excitedly about the day. When the bus finally started moving, I could still feel her eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting.

She ignored Alex and her group the entire trip, barely acknowledging his existence, and kept staring at me.

Once we arrived at the Eiffel Tower, we joined the long lines to go up.

The air felt lighter, and for the first time that morning, I allowed myself to relax a little. As we stepped into the elevator, my friends and I started talking about the view.

"It’s so gorgeous," Daniel said, looking through the glass.

Brandon turned to me, grinning. "Just wait until we’re at the top. You’ll see the whole city."

I nodded, forcing a small smile. The view was breathtaking, sure, but I couldn’t enjoy it fully. Not with the weight of Glyndon’s presence somewhere behind me, like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

Ryan pointed out landmarks as we ascended. "Look, that’s the Seine River! And over there, I think that’s Notre Dame. This city is something, huh?"

I murmured in agreement, letting their voices drown out my thoughts.

The higher we went, the more I tried to focus on the beauty of Paris, to distract myself from the simmering anger and confusion inside me.

By the time we reached the top, the view was incredible.

The city stretched out in every direction, the sunlight glinting off rooftops and the river below.

Everyone was snapping pictures, laughing, and soaking in the moment. I tried to join in, even managing a laugh or two at Brendon’s silly poses with Michael.

But even up here, with Paris glittering beneath me, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Glyndon’s gaze.

Somewhere in the crowd, I knew she was watching me. Waiting. And I hated her for it.

I caught Glyndon’s gaze from across the crowded platform.

She was leaning casually against the rail, her arms crossed as her friends laughed and joked around her.

But she wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t even paying attention to them. Her eyes were locked on me, unblinking and unrelenting, as if she was trying to decipher something about me.

I couldn’t tell what was running through her mind, and honestly, I didn’t care.

I turned away, ignoring her stare, and grabbed my phone.

"Come on," I said to my friends, pulling them close so we could take some pictures.

We huddled together, grinning as the camera clicked. The Eiffel Tower stretched high above us, its iron lattice glowing under the sunlight.

"Let me see!" Emma said, snatching the phone from my hand to scroll through the pictures.

"These are so cute," Lily chimed in, leaning over to look.

"Wait, take one more!" Ryan suggested, and we all shifted around, laughing as we tried to find the perfect angle.

That’s when I heard it.

It started as a low murmur from Glyndon’s group.

Snickers, hushed laughter, and then the unmistakable venom of homophobic slurs about me, Brandon, and Michael.

They weren’t loud, but they didn’t need to be. The words cut through the cheerful chatter around me like shards of glass.

I froze, my jaw tightening. I knew they were targeting us, waiting for a reaction. My friends exchanged uneasy glances, their smiles faltering.

"Ignore them," Michael whispered, his voice tense.

I nodded, swallowing my anger and focusing on the camera again. But then, I heard Alex’s voice rise above the others, clear and condescending.

"What do you even like in women, Lesbo?" he sneered, loud enough for everyone around us to hear.

I turned slowly, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. My gaze drifted over Alex, lingering on his smug expression before sliding to Glyndon, who was watching me with a mixture of dread and defiance.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I said, "Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?"

The words hit like a bomb.

The laughter around them died instantly, replaced by stunned silence. Alex’s face went pale, his eyes widening as if I’d just slapped him. "What the fuck does that even mean?" he snapped, his voice rising in disbelief.

I didn’t answer him. I kept my eyes on Glyndon, who looked like she was about to crumble under the weight of my words.

Her breathing quickened, and her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides.

Alex’s voice cut through the tension again. "What the fuck do you mean, ask my girlfriend?"

I tilted my head, maintaining my smirk as I took a slow, deliberate step toward Glyndon. "Come on, Glyndon," I said, my tone dripping with mockery. "Tell him what I mean."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at Alex, then back at me, her face flushed with panic.

"She’s lying!" Glyndon finally blurted out, her voice trembling. "She’s just trying to mess with you, Alex. She always does this—she’s trying to get under your skin. That’s all it is."

But Alex wasn’t buying it. He glared at her, his suspicion growing with every second of her stammered denials. "What the fuck are you hiding?" he demanded.

"I’m not hiding anything. Shut the fuck up, Kathrine!" Glyndon suddenly snapped, her voice breaking as she turned on me. "Stop this! Stop doing this!"

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I just kept staring at her, feeding off her fear. "Stop what?" I asked, my voice low and taunting as I took another step closer. "I’m just telling the truth. He should ask you what I like about women. No?"

Her face contorted with rage, and before I could react, her hand shot up and slapped me hard across the face.

The force of the blow whipped my head to the side, and a sharp sting spread across my cheek.

I tasted blood on my lip, the metallic tang sharp and bitter. Gasps rippled through the crowd around us, but I didn’t care.

Slowly, I turned back to her, my smirk returning despite the pain. I could see the horror in her eyes, the way her hand trembled as she realized what she’d done.

"Stop saying this bullshit!" she screamed, her voice cracking.

I licked the blood from my lip, letting the tension build before I leaned in closer. "Slap me again, I like that."

Her breath hitched, her body frozen in place. I stepped back, slipping my phone from my pocket and holding it up... Reminding her indirectly of how easily I can ruin her life "Careful who you mess with, Glyndon Walton" I added, my tone casual but laced with malice.