Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 45: New Piercing

Chapter 45: New Piercing

- Glyndon Walton: ( Song of the Chapter: Okay by Chase Atlantic)

I could feel my body going rigid as I stood there, staring at Katherine.

My breath hitched, my heart racing like a runaway train, but I kept my face neutral, refusing to let her see how much power she held over me.

Internally, I was panicking—panicking so hard that I thought I might break apart right there on the platform.

Her phone was in her hand, subtle but deliberate, like a weapon she wasn’t even bothering to conceal.

She didn’t have to say a word; I knew exactly what she was implying. She could ruin me—my life, my reputation, everything—with just a simple swipe of her finger. I hated her for it. I hated myself even more for being so terrified.

I tried to steady my breathing, but it felt like the walls were closing in. All I could think about was the fallout.

If people believed her—or worse, if they saw whatever evidence she had—everything would be over.

People would think I was gay. People would whisper, judge, and hate me. My family... oh God, my family.

They would never forgive me. They’d look at me like I was a stranger like I’m some disgusting sinner who didn’t belong.

And Alex.

What would Alex do? Would he leave me? Hate me? I couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at me with disgust. And the church—my church— the priest and the nuns would cast me out. I’d lose everything.

I swallowed hard, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as I watched Katherine smirk at me.

She wiped at her busted lip with her thumb, her eyes glinting with amusement. She was enjoying this—watching me squirm, knowing how scared I was.

She finally looked away from me, her attention shifting back to Alex as she said, "What I mean is, why don’t you ask your girlfriend what you like about women?"

Her tone was light, almost casual, but the words cut deep, twisting the knife she’d already driven into my chest.

Alex’s face twisted in confusion. "What the fuck does that even mean?" he snapped, looking between me and Kathrine.

Kathrine didn’t flinch. She just shrugged and added, "I’d be offended if my boyfriend couldn’t think of a single thing he liked about women." Her smirk deepened as she stared directly at me, her eyes daring me to speak.

My stomach churned.

She was setting me up, flipping the situation on Alex and using me as her pawn.

I could feel her message loud and clear—she wanted me to squirm, to crack under the pressure.

I turned to Alex, forcing myself to speak even though my voice felt like it might betray me. "She’s right," I said, feigning confusion. "What do you mean by that, Alex? Why would you even ask her what she likes about women? Don’t you like women?"

He blinked, startled by my words. "Of course I do!" he said quickly. "I love women. I love you. I didn’t mean to insult you."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. Katherine’s plan was working, and I hated it. I hated her. But most of all, I hated how much of myself I saw in her smug smirk.

"It’s okay," I said softly, forcing a small smile.

Alex’s eyes widened, and he shook his head furiously. " I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant to ask her why should women be gay?..., what does another woman have that men don’t..." He trailed off, flustered and searching for the right words.

Kathrine didn’t give him the chance to finish. She turned to him with a wicked grin and said, "A vagina."

The word was sharp and cutting, delivered with the confidence of someone who knew she’d just won.

Then, without another glance at either of us, she turned on her heel and walked back to her group of friends, laughing as though none of this even mattered to her.

Alex rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he turned back to me. "I’m sorry for yelling," he said, his voice softer now. "That... that lesbo just pisses me off so much. The way she talks—it’s like she’s trying to mess with your head."

My stomach twisted painfully.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much she’d already messed with me.

He didn’t know how much I hated her for it—or how much I craved it.

I forced myself to glare at him, my expression hardening as I said, "I don’t like women like that. You know it is a sin. Why would you even think I’d let her do anything like that with me?"

He laughed softly, pulling me into a sideways hug and kissing my cheek. "I know, babe. I know you wouldn’t. It’s just... the way she said it got in my head. I’m sorry."

I smiled weakly, whispering, "It’s okay. I forgive you."

But inside, I was dying. Guilt and shame clawed at me, threatening to overwhelm me. I was the one who should be apologizing—not him.

I was the one with secrets eating me alive.

I couldn’t tell him—or anyone—how much I craved her touch.

How she consumed my thoughts, my dreams, my entire being.

How every cruel word she said, every taunting smirk, every lingering look, only made me want her more.

I hated myself for it. This wasn’t real. It was sickness. Sin. A sickness that would go away if I could just fight it hard enough.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.

-

I was back in my room, though I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t Kathrine with me, though I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about her. Instead, it was Alex, lying beside me, his body warm and relaxed from the afterglow of our time together.

I was tangled in the sheets, completely naked, while he was already pulling on his shorts, his face lit with the kind of satisfaction only someone completely oblivious could wear.

I watched him move, the lazy grin on his face making my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t quite place. "Are you leaving?" I asked, my voice soft.

He glanced at me as he adjusted his waistband, chuckling. "Yeah. We have to get back to our rooms. Can’t let the teachers catch me sneaking into a girls’ room, can we?" His tone was amused as if it was all a joke, and I forced myself to smile.

Because if he found it funny, I was supposed to find it funny too.

Before I could respond, the door opened. My breath hitched as Kathrine stepped inside, her presence hitting me like a physical force. She didn’t look at me.

She didn’t look at Alex. It was as though we didn’t exist, as if the room was empty except for her and the task she had set her mind to.

She walked to her suitcase, rifling through it with quiet efficiency, completely ignoring the tension in the air.

Alex, of course, couldn’t let her silence go unanswered.

He turned to me, making sure his voice was loud enough to fill the entire room, and said, "You better keep an eye open when you sleep. I mean, you’re sleeping next to a predator. Just because she’s not a guy doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. She’s still a lesbo. A fag."

He laughed—loud and unapologetic, the sound grating against my ears.

I turned to him, my laugh automatically following his. It sounded hollow, even to me, but I did it anyway. That’s what I was supposed to do.

Kathrine didn’t even flinch. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t acknowledge either of us, not even as he hurled those cruel words at her.

She simply kept moving, her expression calm, her focus unshaken.

My eyes caught on the faint cut on her lip, a reminder of the slap I had delivered earlier. It was small but noticeable, the skin slightly swollen.

She didn’t touch it. Didn’t react. She just grabbed her wallet from the suitcase and left the room, shutting the door behind her without a word.

Alex turned to me, his brow furrowed. "What the fuck is wrong with her?"

I shrugged, forcing indifference into my voice. "I don’t know. Maybe my slap knocked some sense into her."

The words came out sharp, and bitter, and I immediately felt a dull ache in my chest.

What the hell was wrong with me?

The ache lingered, gnawing at me even as I told myself it was nothing. I’d said things like that before.

Done worse to her. This wasn’t new. It wasn’t out of character for me. So why did it feel like my own words had cut me this time?

I tried to ignore it, to push the feeling aside. This was who I was. This was what I did. I bullied her, teased her, and made her life miserable.

So why did it feel like something had changed? Why did it feel like I was the one who’d been slapped?

—

It was late, and the room was dark except for the dim light spilling in through the window. I lay in my bed, tossing and turning, unable to find any semblance of peace.

Sleep evaded me, taunting me with how easily it should come.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t just shut my eyes and let go.

But I knew the reason, deep down.

She wasn’t here.

My mind refused to rest, instead spiraling into a storm of thoughts.

Where could she have gone? Why wasn’t she back yet? Did something happen to her? The questions buzzed like an endless swarm, and no matter how hard I tried to shake them away, they stayed.

I turned onto my side, glaring at the clock as if it would make her appear.

The silence in the room felt heavier without her, and the ache in my chest grew sharper with every minute that passed.

And then I heard it—the soft click of the door opening, followed by the quiet thud as it closed and locked.

My breath caught, and I sat up, my eyes immediately locking onto her as she stepped inside.

She didn’t look at me. She never did. She moved as if I weren’t even there, her steps calm and deliberate as she began rifling through her suitcase.

But my gaze wasn’t on her bag or her movements. It was on her face.

Specifically, the new piercing gleaming on her lower lip, right where I’d left that cut earlier when I slapped her.

My stomach twisted, and I couldn’t look away. The piercing was small and subtle, but impossible to miss.

It was like a silent statement, a mark of defiance she had chosen to wear in place of the injury I’d inflicted.

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