Cruel Intentions: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Hawk Academy Book 2)

by Sarwah Creed

  Fuck!

  No matter what, I couldn’t give her up, not yet. I didn’t know if I just wanted her for a quick fuck to get back at Hawk or to have her sweet body next to mine for a long time to come. When did life get so complicated?

  Chapter Three

  The next day, I got up and went to class. Vicki said that she would be there. They say that time flies when you’re having fun. Well today, it fucking dragged on and James didn't turn up to class either. I knew the situation between us, was going from bad to worse, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I didn't know what to think, if I should bother or not with him or Vicki?

  Fuck!

  I got up thinking that my day would be a good one. I was trying the art of positive thinking and it was a waste of fucking time. I hate that. I walked around as if I was a bear that had come out of hibernation a couple of months too early. However, as the day came to an end, I had a big fucking smile on my face.

  “Thank fucking God it’s over with!” I blurted out as I threw some of my books into my locker, done with them and ready to throw them away for good, but I still needed them, unfortunately. My feet felt like they were on fire as I all but ran out of the building and towards the dorms. I had to get out of this fucking uniform and chill for a bit before studying. I really had to hit the books tonight.

  As soon as I reached the suite and was about to put the key in the door, I got a message from James.

  “Don’t wait up!”

  “James? You want to play that game?” I started to text him back to ask what he was doing tonight. Why he had to be out all night once again, and I felt like I’d had a sex-change, and I was all of a sudden, a middle-aged woman concerned about her only son. I hated the way that he was making me feel confused about Vicki, and the fact that he was keeping his distance. It was weird. There was nothing I could do, so I deleted the text and turned the key to step inside. I felt lonely.

  It was so damn weird, for the first time in my life, I had no one waiting on me. No one to hold or even talk to back in the suite.

  Nothing.

  I threw my phone in my bag and then closed the door. I decided that I’d go to the library to study. Something that I didn’t normally do, but the idea of being alone in the suite made me feel even more anxious.

  I walked to the library, and I kept hoping that James would text me back. Tell me that he was on his way or ask if I felt like doing something?

  Nothing.

  I decided to make a call. One that made me feel like this insecure pile of shit to the one woman that made me so messed up that I couldn’t deal with any of my emotions: Mom.

  “Please pick up the phone,” I repeated over and over again as it rang. And then it did what it did every time I called her, it went right to voicemail, and I became pissed. Pissed for calling and pissed for her not picking up.

  I headed to the library, and I could hear the nerds on the right, pointing at me as if I’d never been here before. The freaks were on the left doing the same.

  Fuck!

  Was this the new hangout spot?

  And then the beauty queens were in the middle.

  Who knew that they even knew what a library was? I watched them curiously, wondering if they were here to study or if this was their new hideout. I would have thought they would stick to the bathrooms, so that they could discuss their beauty tips or which guy they had their eyes on. I was surprised to see them in the library staring at me. The saying that you learn something new every day was fucking true, especially in this case.

  I sat down in a corner, and all eyes were on me. I used to love the attention of being a king. This time it was a different kind of attention, they were staring because I was alone, not with James and not with Claire, Sarah, or some new girl following us around. This wasn’t the kind of attention that I welcomed with fucking open arms. If anything, it was humiliating, and it made me feel embarrassed about the idea of it. The crazy part was that I wasn’t embarrassed about anything, not anymore. As soon as puberty finished, I became Mr. Confident. Until now.

  I was being Mr. Sensitive tonight. I came here for one thing and one thing alone, and that was to study. That was exactly what I had to do, and if they had nothing better to do than stare then so be it.

  After a late night at the library, I went to the kitchen to get something to eat. I picked up my phone to call James once again, and he didn’t pick up after heating up the meatloaf that was left there and then I ate on the breakfast table, alone. I was hungry before, but now I didn’t have much of an appetite. One thing was for sure, tomorrow was another day, and Vicki better be in class. Even if James wasn’t around, I knew that Vicki was interested in my company at least. I threw my bag on the floor as soon as I walked in our suite, slammed the door shut, and hit the sack. I was exhausted, even if I was lonely. At least one thing was for sure, if I studied like tonight every fucking night, I would be getting into all the universities with flying colors.

  I didn’t even bother to see which direction I was throwing my shirt, shoes, or any other piece of clothing. I didn’t smell the best, but I didn’t care. Tomorrow was another day. I’d take a shower in the morning and make sure that I smelled like the young, hot-blooded male that I was and get rid of this insecure, sensitive man smell that was driving me insane.

  Once I got to bed, I found myself completely restless. I couldn’t sleep. Now that I was in bed, the sleep wouldn’t come.

  I didn’t want to look at my phone, it was too depressing, the idea of no one calling me and not being able to talk to anyone that would pick up if I called them; hit me even harder. It’d been maybe five years since I saw mom? It was crazy because four years ago, I would have known precisely the minute, hour, day, or even week since I last saw her or even spoke to her. Now, it was becoming a faded memory; it was as if she was a ghost, one that I was slowly forgetting. If I didn’t go online and see recent posts of her at parties, or stare at the photos of her when I went to the main house, I wouldn't even remember what my mom looked like. How fucking sad was that? When she left, we didn't even know that she was gone. She never said goodbye and all her shit was still here.

  I needed to knock myself out tonight by having one too many shots. Just so I could get some rest. I was tired, and my mind was going into overdrive between spending all night studying in the library and wondering what tomorrow would bring? Would I see Vicki, and would we hit it off, the same way that we did in the gym that night? Or was it all in my fucking mind?

  Who knew?

  I didn’t hesitate as I took a swig from the bottle and felt the hot rush of whisky as it blazed down my throat. I was feeling the desire to party, not to sleep. I thought the alcohol would go straight to my head immediately, but it didn’t, so I took another shot. I knew that maybe one more would do the trick. One more and I was close but not close enough. One more would get me close enough that I wouldn’t want to get up until the next day.

  I tipped the bottle up one more time and took a long pull. Within minutes I started to feel that slow rush of pleasurable languor. Bingo! It fucking worked. I could almost figure out where my room was, and I needed to sleep so desperately. But I had a feeling that it would be a deep sleep plagued with memories of things that I didn’t want to revisit. As I shut my eyes, I knew that I was fucking right.

  “Sally, Sally,” I called out her name a couple of times. Nothing. She was our new nanny, I remembered Carlton and Stephanie, our step-grandmother arguing about her. Carlton was spending too much time with her, and Stephanie didn’t like it.

  I was struggling with my math homework, and Sally was a whiz at it. I wanted to impress Mom with my results, so I was looking for Sally, but I couldn’t find her. James and I were eight at the time, so we were a bit too old for a nanny, but Mom wanted someone to be with us all the time because she was too busy flying all over the world. She was a socialite. I didn’t realize until I got older, that meant she had no job. It was something Grandma used to do, and Mom said that sh
e wanted to be just like her mom. Back then I thought my grandmother was into fashion, because Mom used to show me photos of her mom in fancy clothes.

  I just thought that the word socialite meant that she was important. They were always talking about her at school, always commenting about how exciting she was and how their moms were always at home. I used to be jealous and wished that mine would do the same.

  Our previous nanny wasn’t as young as Sally. Stephanie made sure that all our nannies were her age, but she was with her aunt in Florida when Sally was hired so she had no idea how pretty the very young Sally was. And ever since she came back, she complained about Sally nonstop.

  I didn’t care; I loved Sally. She was warm and gave me the attention that Mom never gave me.

  “James, you seen Sally?” I asked when I spotted my brother playing with his new train set, that he built in a couple of hours.

  He nodded. “Sure, she’s in the right-wing with the old man.”

  I ran in that direction, and I thought that it was weird for her to be with Carlton. What was she doing there? I expected her to be in her room, or with the cook who insisted that Sally could use some help with her choice of meals, or maybe even out in the garden. Sally told me that she had always lived in an apartment and never had a garden, so she’d go out there a lot. Hawk gave her the use of a patch of land and every spare minute she had; she was in that garden. Sometimes, I would help her in there too. It was fun. We had a few tomatoes and strawberries growing in there, and there was nothing more satisfying than eating fruit which you’d grown yourself.

  I decided to stop calling out and headed towards the right-wing, and I could hear funny noises in the guest bedroom. I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew what the noises meant, and strangely enough, I couldn’t hear any woman making the noise, just the old man. So, I crept to the room. I wanted to see who he was fucking now. This would be the third time that I’d caught him during the day, having his way with one of the staff members, and one time it was his mistress.

  I knew that this wasn’t the mistress, because Stephanie wasn’t in Florida anymore. But I did wonder who it was, and I crept slowly to the door to look into the keyhole. I was shocked to see the door slightly open, and Sally bent over his bed.

  I was sad, seeing Sally like that. Not because I thought that Carlton would behave now that Stephanie was home, but it was as if he didn’t care about who he hurt, including Stephanie. He didn’t like Stephanie, and we didn’t like him. And now he was degrading Sally, sweet, loving Sally.

  Stephanie was nice to James and me, and that saddened me too. Not just because it was Sally in there, but because I wondered why his nice wife stayed married to a man like him. I hated this place, I hated Carlton, and I hated his son too.

  Hawk used to be nice when he was dating mom. He would come to the house, our house, and take us out for the day. But the moment we all moved to the academy, everything changed. I used to wonder if this place was haunted with sadness. I asked James once if he thought the house was haunted, and he told me that I was silly and childish for even thinking like that.

  I decided to spy some more. I wanted to know if Stephanie was in the house. She reminded me of Julie Andrews in The Princess Diaries. Nice, beautiful even if she was old and stern, but forgiving. A movie that I would never admit to watching to anybody, let alone enjoying. I decided that I would look for her and keep her away from the guest room to protect her.

  She’d protected me more than once, when Carlton accused me of taking one of his gold coins. I had taken the coin, and I did want to take one of his guns, but she stopped him from punishing me. I didn’t know what he had in mind, but she stood up for me. Something that my own mom might have done if she’d been around.

  I decided that the kind old woman would be in the garden. Sally wasn’t the only one that loved to be out there. I remembered one time, Stephanie winked at me and whispered like she was telling a secret. “Gardening and painting are the two most therapeutic acts in life.”

  She was right about gardening because it did make me feel less anxious. I’d done it so many times, and it brought out a calmness in me, one that I didn’t even know existed.

  As I ran out to the garden, I passed Carlton’s room, and I heard a noise. It was a crying sound as if a cat was being strangled. It was weird. So, I rushed to the room, and what I saw horrified me. Stephanie was hanging from the ceiling.

  I screamed out, a tortured cry of shock and horror. “No! No!”

  Over and over again I screamed, but nothing changed. The tears that she had cried were still on her face, her hair was still neatly tied up in a bun, and she was wearing a matching Gucci suit. A glint of gold caught my eye and I saw that her wedding ring was in the middle of the bed. I wondered if she struggled to take it off, before she decided to take her own life.

  Why didn't she leave him?

  He didn't deserve her, and she deserved so much more.

  Carlton rushed down the hall towards me with his pants around his ankles, and Sally half-dressed by his side. I didn’t know who I hated more at that moment, him or Sally.

  I jumped out of bed; hate, horror, and helplessness clutching at my chest so hard I thought I’d die. A tear swelled up in my eye, I remembered the old woman’s kindness. She’d built a treehouse for us, so that when all the madness in the main house got too much, we could escape to the calm protective canopy of the tree’s branches. I knew how much she loved her orchids, crocuses and especially marigolds, so I regularly maintained the flower garden around the still-standing treehouse that I planted in her honor. She will never be forgotten in my heart.

  She was the only reason I had any type of sanity in this place. She was the nicest Hawk that I’d ever known, and I missed her.

  “I miss you, Stephanie,” I smiled as I thought about her and laid back on the bed. I’d cried at her funeral not only because she was dead, but because she was so nice. A quality that brought out the beauty in a house full of ugliness.

  I looked at the time and realized that it was morning and time for me to get out of bed. A little too early, but that meantI had enough time to have a much-needed shave and take a long shower, to get rid of the ringing that was going around in my head. I had to stop drinking before sleeping, it was really messing with my head.

  Chapter Four

  I got out of bed with a spring in my step. James didn’t come home, but at least I was going to see Vicki today. She didn’t confirm it, but I knew that she’d planned to come back yesterday, and she didn’t so there was no way that she would miss today too. Either way something good had to come of today or I didn’t know what I would do. I couldn’t drink anymore whisky; the bottle was nearly done.

  I stripped off as I got out of bed and put the hot water tap on full blast to make my shower steaming hot. I sang in the shower like I was Stevie Wonder when he’d finally found his Cherie Amour. As I got out, I decided to go all out and do something that I’d never done before. I was going to write Vicki a note. As I wrapped the towel around my waist, I went to my desk to grab a pen and some paper. I didn’t know what to put on the note, but once I had my caffeine fix, then it would all come to me, I was certain.

  I put on the Espresso machine and listened to it getting to work. I’d never written a poem, let alone a note in my life, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I needed some inspiration and once I’d made that espresso, I was sure that it would start flooding in, like water into a dam.

  I carried on singing the song; Mi Cheri Amour, because I knew that after today, I wouldn’t feel lonely anymore. No, I would feel good.

  Once I got dressed and left the suite, I walked quickly until I was at my locker ready to start the day. I traveled, holding the note in my hand as if it was a diamond that I didn’t want to lose.

  I’d planned to give her the note the moment that I got to class. As soon as I got there, I saw that my classmates were, as usual, robots. Everyone sat in the same seats every single day. We didn’t have to, we
weren’t organized to sit in individual chairs, and none of them had our names on them. But everyone was kind of OCD when it came to the seating arrangement. Every single day, I watched them as they panicked if someone mistakenly sat in their seat.

  I saw Vicki as soon as she walked into the classroom. She looked beautiful with her long flowing dark hair and her blue eyes shining, yet she seemed uncertain, maybe even a little petrified. I wanted to build her confidence up, to take away that hesitation that made her look like a scared rabbit, and maybe my note would help with that.

  I took my opportunity and slipped her the note. I felt like some lovesick fucking teenager as I eagerly waited for her to open it. I waited for her to show up in class after the phone call a couple of days ago and was disappointed, but now that she was here, I had a big fucking smile on my face. I’d nearly given up on the idea of her even being in the Academy, let alone coming to class, and there she was sitting at the front with my note in her hand.

  I had the feeling this was the real reason that Claire was trying to get close to James, because she wanted to know what was going on. Just a shame that it was none of her fucking business, and if James had any sense, he would keep his mouth shut.

  “Mr. Hawk, are we boring you?”

  Mr. Winston asked me. I didn’t even notice that he was looking in my direction, besides how could anyone get a kick out of listening to history? It was boring and so fucking depressing. The past was about slavery, civil wars…death, death and more death and a few plagues thrown into them just to spice things up a bit.

  I shook my head, deciding to keep my inner thoughts to myself, and I kept my answer short and sweet as I replied, “No.”

  He smiled and carried on talking. You could tell that he really liked talking about how William the Conqueror’s invasion into England and hearing about his slayings was something to get a kick out of, but then I had a feeling that Mr. Winston did get a kick out of it. You’d almost think he was reliving his own personal history, and he was telling us about his army that he was in charge of. Maybe he was strong back in the day; now, he just seemed like a feeble old man that was out of breath as soon as he came to class.