Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 60: Mine

Chapter 60: Mine

-Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the Chapter: Haunted by Isabel LaRosa)

The bathroom door slammed shut behind me, cutting off the noise of the cafeteria.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the sink, my knuckles turning white.

Not because I was shocked.

Not because I was hurt.

But because I was angry.

Today was the first time Alex and his pack of assholes had pulled something multiple times in one day.

And it wasn’t just random cruelty.

This wasn’t just their usual brand of fun.

This was personal.

It felt like revenge.

Like Alex had a reason to be pissed.

And I had a pretty damn good guess as to why.

Paris.

That fucking museum.

The way Glyndon had run to me when that noise rang out, grabbing my wrist before she could even think.

She had barely realized she’d done it.

But maybe he had.

Maybe Alex had noticed.

Maybe that’s why he was pushing harder.

Or maybe—

Maybe he was suspicious.

Maybe he had doubts.

And maybe, just maybe, I was the target of his frustration because he couldn’t prove anything.

I clenched my jaw and turned the faucet on, letting the ice-cold water run over my fingers before I splashed it onto my face.

The sticky soda clung to my skin, soaking into my hoodie, my skirt, and my hair.

I smelled like syrup and fries and humiliation.

I wanted to punch something.

Instead, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and scrubbed at my face until it felt raw.

Then, without looking at my reflection, I peeled my soaked jacket off and tossed it aside.

It landed on the floor with a wet slap.

I didn’t bother sighing.

I didn’t bother reacting anymore.

I just reached into my bag, pulling out my spare clothes—the ones I always kept in my locker.

Because of this?

This was expected.

Prepared for.

And maybe that was the worst part.

The fact that I knew something like this would happen eventually.

That I had learned to anticipate it.

To live with it.

I changed quickly, stuffing my ruined clothes into a plastic bag.

Then I ran my fingers through my hair, wringing out the last few drops of soda before tying it back.

I didn’t look in the mirror.

I refused to.

Because I already knew what I’d see.

And I didn’t need the reminder.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and pushed the bathroom door open.

Back to reality.

Back to the battlefield.

And if Alex wanted a war?

He’d fucking get one.

I should’ve seen it coming.

After everything that happened in Paris, I should’ve known Alex wouldn’t let it go.

And yet, when I stepped into the hallway that morning, surrounded by my friends, I hadn’t expected to see the entire school turn their heads toward me—laughter bubbling up in waves, whispers spreading like wildfire.

I frowned, my body tensing.

"What the hell is going on?" Ryan muttered beside me.

Then I saw it.

The giant screen in the middle of the hallway—the one used for school announcements, game scores, and random bullshit no one cared about—had been hijacked.

My face was on it.

A picture.

One I’d never taken.

One that had been edited.

My body, but in lingerie, posed in a way that made my stomach twist. Words were scrawled across the screen in flashing red text:

KATHRINE ANDREWS—THE SCHOOL’S FAVORITE DYKE.

My lungs locked.

My ears rang.

The laughter hit like a slap.

A sharp, cutting roar that made my chest tighten until I couldn’t breathe.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Michael snapped, already stepping forward.

"That’s fake," Lily hissed. "That’s so fucking fake."

Brandon was already scanning the crowd, looking for whoever was responsible.

But I didn’t need to look.

I already knew.

And when my eyes found Alex, leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed, smirking like he owned the damn place, I felt something ugly stir inside me.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

But Glyndon—

She was right next to him.

And she wasn’t laughing.

She wasn’t smiling.

She just stared at me, her lips pressed together, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.

I don’t know why I looked at her instead of anyone else.

Maybe because a part of me was still stupid.

Still wanted to believe that somewhere beneath all that bullshit, she cared.

That she felt something.

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t do a damn thing.

And I hated her for it.

"You good?" Ethan asked under his breath, his hand on my shoulder.

I exhaled slowly.

"No," I said. "But I will be."

And then the screen went black.

*

It’s the next day.

I should’ve left.

Should’ve gone home the second I had the chance.

But I didn’t.

And I paid for it.

Because lunch came.

And so did Alex’s next move.

One second, I was sitting with my friends, pretending like I wasn’t still seeing that fucking picture behind my eyelids.

The next?

Alex was in front of me.

Holding a tray.

Smirking.

And before I could even process it, the entire thing—spaghetti, sauce, milk, everything—was dumped onto my lap.

The cafeteria exploded.

I heard Michael shout.

Felt Lily grab for me.

But I was already up.

Already moving.

Already running.

*

The bathroom was cold.

The tiles are sticky beneath my shoes.

The mirror was cracked from some fight that had happened last year, and for a second, I wondered what it would feel like to put my fist through it.

Emma and Lily were talking, whispering about what an asshole Alex was, about how the school needed to do something, about how this was getting out of hand.

I barely heard them.

Because I already knew what needed to be done.

No more waiting.

No more hoping things would change.

If Alex wanted a fight?

I was going to end it.

And I knew exactly how.

———

The night air was thick, pressing against my skin like unseen hands. A biting chill curled around my fingers, but I barely felt it.

I stood outside Glyndon’s house, my hood pulled low, my body hidden in the shadows of the iron gate. The dim glow from her window bathed the bedroom in a soft, golden hue.

And she was there.

Standing behind the glass.

Watching me.

No—not me.

Not Kathrine.

She wasn’t looking at her classmate, her secret, her sex partner in the dark.

She was looking at a stalker.

A faceless, nameless figure cloaked in black, blending into the night.

A stranger.

I could see it—the way her eyes widened just slightly, the way her lips parted in something that wasn’t quite a gasp but wasn’t far from one either.

Fear.

It flickered across her face for only a second, but I caught it.

And I liked it.

I wanted her terrified.

I wanted her heart to race the way mine did when I thought about her. I wanted her to feel hunted because that’s what she was.

My prey.

I watched her chest rise and fall, too quick, too shallow. Then, suddenly, she turned—back to him.

Alex.

My nails dug into my palm beneath my sleeves.

She spoke, though I couldn’t hear the words. She pointed out the window, and Alex moved beside her, peering outside.

I ducked.

Pressed my back against the cold stone wall, heart pounding, lips twitching upward. Close call.

I stayed there, silent, waiting.

Waiting for her to move away.

Waiting for the moment when I could move again.

And then it came.

The second the light flicked off, I sprang into action.

My hands found the balcony’s edge, muscles straining as I pulled myself up, climbing swiftly, effortlessly. Years of training made it second nature, my body moving on pure instinct.

The first time I did this, it was for revenge.

A way to gather proof.

I wanted to catch her in her lies, wanted to record everything—her secrets, her shame, her hypocrisy.

I wanted ammunition to destroy her.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about that.

It wasn’t revenge anymore.

It was an obsession.

Now, I did it because I couldn’t stop.

Because watching her had become a drug I couldn’t quit.

I reached the balcony, and crouched low, steadying my breathing. The curtains were partially drawn, leaving just enough space for me to see inside.

And what I saw made something dark slither down my spine.

Glyndon.

On her bed.

With him.

Alex’s hands were on her waist, gripping, holding. His lips trailed along her neck, his body pressing hers into the mattress.

My stomach twisted, a slow, seething burn spreading through my chest.

I didn’t look away.

I couldn’t.

Because I saw it.

The stiffness in her limbs.

The way she positioned herself, arching just right, moving in a way that looked like passion but wasn’t.

The way her eyes stayed closed.

And then—her moans.

Soft.

Breathy.

Fake.

Every single one.

She wasn’t feeling it.

She wasn’t with him.

But she was pretending.

Pretending for him.

For herself.

For the lie she so desperately clung to.

The lie that said she wasn’t like me.

That she wasn’t mine.

My grip on the railing tightened.

I wanted to leave.

I should leave.

But I didn’t move.

Because the sickest part of me—the darkest part of me—wanted her to know I was here.

I wanted her to feel me watching.

To sense my presence, lingering just outside her reach.

I wanted her to know that no matter how much she ran, no matter how much she lied—

She couldn’t hide from me.

She was mine to break.

And I wasn’t going anywhere.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.