Here Lives a Corpse: A Dark Bully Academy Romance (Here Lies Book 1)

by C. L. Matthews

  Just one.

  A few words.

  Goodbye, maybe.

  Anything to feel this gaping hole mend a little.

  The trees surrounding me are big and green, almost as moody as me. If you stuck a depressed filter on this landscape, that’s what expresses itself now. I almost hate it, the fact that it’s so dank and dark, but that doesn’t stop my pursuit. Depressing as it is, it’s more soothing than sunshine with fake smiles and morbid fallacies shown to others.

  My favorite stop comes up ahead as I drag my feet. Around some redwoods and pine is my rock and several others. They’ve always intrigued me. As if they fell from the sky in a heap, they’re separated from the rest of the mountainous area around. There’s no other way to explain the phenomena. Not a single boulder nearby could have created such massive rocks randomly.

  Right as I’m rounding around the tree, a lone figure sits in the distance, and I catch my breath. From the twenty-foot distance, there’s no telling who it is. All I know is that they’re wearing the school’s uniform and are broad-shouldered, big, wide like a brute.

  Nestling behind the tree, I stay back. The desire to sneak over overwhelms me, begging me to see what the stranger is doing. He stands, pacing back and forth. Is he arguing with himself? His arms move vigorously, going up and down as if he’s pissed. Well, this is awkward. Why am I watching him? Is this the equivalent to a train crash?

  Deciding to move closer because I’m a masochist, I try not to crunch everything in my path. It’s hard when you’re wearing four-inch platform boots in a fucking forest, but attempting it is my only choice. The scent of tobacco permeates the air. Sniffing as little as possible causes me to scrunch my nose in displeasure. Yeah, smoking a joint or ten a week is my thing, but cigarettes are gross. Hypocrite, probably. Regardless, cigarettes are gross.

  My feet aren’t light as I’m progressing toward the guy. He’s still yelling, and as I get closer, I can hear some words.

  “This is such bullshit, and you know it! I owe you fuckers nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  The voice is a bit muffled by the sounds of birds and wind rustling through the redwoods, but it sounds familiar.

  “Well, fuck you guys and your dad!” a familiar voice hollers loudly.

  When I’m a few yards away, a branch snaps beneath my foot, and I’m halting. Almost as if the birds, wind, and nature decided fending for myself was the result of stupidity, everything silences.

  Adrenaline rushes through me, I attempt to slow my breathing, not wanting to be caught. He can’t see me. I’m behind foliage and trees, but my hair is bright fucking green. With my luck, it’ll give me away.

  “Did you hear that?” a voice, deeper than the first, questions.

  My heart hammers, and my palms suddenly feel clammy. There’s no harm in spying, right? These are probably a bunch of teenagers pissed at their parents for something... right? They wouldn’t hurt a Hudson. They wouldn’t.

  For the first time since Cassidy’s death, I’m panicking. Fear slices through my veins like my razor always does when my mood drowns.

  I back up a step when I see them shuffling. They’re worried. Which means, one, they’re doing something illegal, two, they’re ditching class like me, or three, all the above and worse.

  “Who’s out there?” a third voice, deeper and angrier than the first two, barks, making my skin slick with sweat.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I just wanted to smoke a joint, not cause trouble. This year is supposed to fly by.

  When the three figures are more visible, my body trembles from head to toe, and even though it’s cold, I’m sure that the temperature has nothing to do with the sudden chill in the air.

  “Let’s split up.” The words escape one of the three, promising danger with each syllable.

  I rush away from the trees, no longer trying to be quiet, running for my life.

  Is this how Cass felt?

  Am I going to die, too?

  “Come back here!” one of them shouts as I near my hiding spot, a cave Cass and I found my freshman year. He used it for whatever he wanted, and I used it to make out with Ten. We called it our bunker. Cass eventually made it a fully functioning place of escapism. It’s furnished inside, and there’s even a door. After escaping inside its small entrance, I hear feet running across the stick-laden ground, the sound of the wind whooshing, and the grunts as they pass by without seeing me.

  Minutes go by. My heart still runs rampant in my chest. So much for taking it easy.

  After I’m positive they’re gone, I exit the cavern. Looking back to where we came from, my body shivers. As I turn, I run into a solid chest.

  “What are you doing out here, Colton?” Bridger asks coldly, his voice scarily deep.

  That’s when it hits me. He’s the first voice I heard.

  My eyes meet his starless skies, burning, melting, and dissolving into a puddle of death.

  “I was simply trying to smoke a joint,” I whisper, wishing my words didn’t sound ragged and my chest didn’t heave with every syllable. It makes me look guilty—I am—but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Eavesdropping, perhaps?”

  Right now, in the middle of the trees, where life doesn’t truly exist, fear is the only answer. He scares me. Not before that night, no, but now, surrounded by a gray sky and being dissected by eyes that are bottomless, fear is my only trait.

  “N-No,” I mutter. Damn, stumbling over my words make me feel and appear weak.

  He doesn’t care. He only wants to know what I know. It’s apparent on his face as he eyes me, squinting ever so slightly. He’s nearly expressionless, yet it’s like he’s digging through my brain, tugging on every inch, making sure no vital information resides there.

  “Weed. That’s why I’m here.” It sounds less frantic and smoother. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the bag. “See?”

  He doesn’t look, though. His eyes penetrate me, still dissecting me as if I’m a lab rat, waiting for results he may never see before an untimely death. Since he won’t do anything, I pull out my Zippo and the joint I’ve got pre-rolled. He doesn’t hesitate, watching me like a freak, making my skin crawl and fill with dread.

  Only he can do that—rip me apart with his blackness and tape me together with past lustful gazes that remind me we’re all simply human. Maybe not, though. Maybe Bridger has crossed that path, becoming more creature than mortal. He’s darker than black and scarier than elevators. He’s the shadows on the walls at night, the promises of death, the warning of hell.

  I bring a shaky hand to my lips, barely holding onto the joint. Instead of saying anything, he takes the metal from my fingers, flicks the roller, and lights the weed. The fire is a mirror of salvation in his eyes. If I burn, will he carry me away to my forever imprisonment? I was never meant to live, anyway.

  While sucking in a long pull, our gazes collide, and I can’t seem to escape his. He’s so off-putting in his silence. It’s always his aura. I blow out the smoke, feeling my body visibly relax. If a mountain’s rock never moved or weathered, it would be a good comparison to Bridger at this moment. His eyes haven’t left mine, yet his quietness perturbs me. How does it not bother him to be this closed off?

  “Want some?” I offer.

  He doesn’t smile, flinch, or even relax, but he takes my hand holding the blunt, bringing it to his lips to inhale. It’s single-handedly the hottest and most unnerving thing to witness. He hollows his cheeks around the tiny stick, all while gripping my wrist as if it anchors him here. When he lets out the puff, his hand doesn’t drop mine.

  “You should be careful in the dark, Colton. Monsters don’t mind kidnapping little things to use over and over again.”

  My chest tightens, making my heart pause along with it.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, feeling stupid for showing my fear and cards.

  “Means that in the shadows are where monsters like my kind lurk. Next time you come out here with your short-ass skirt, tall fuckin
g boots, and a halter top that leaves barely anything to the imagination, you might be dragged to the dark side where there’s no escaping.”

  My breathing catches, my mouth falling open at the response. Cool wind whips at me as he moves closer, making our chests practically bump. Slowly, like a promise, his finger touches a stray neon lock, tucking it behind my ear, then somehow finds its way to my hand. Doing what he did before, bringing the joint from my hand to his mouth, he takes a long drag. Puffs of smoke dance in the air, its own ritual before dispersing into the sky forever.

  Releasing his hold, he leans in, leaving me no room to breathe, and blows every ounce of toxic vapor into my mouth, making sure our lips don’t touch.

  “Stay out of the woods, Colton.”

  Coldness is all that greets me when he leaves me here, heading in the direction I ran from. It only takes me ten seconds to realize how unsafe it is at this school. My brother was killed less than five months ago. It’s not old news. Being reckless isn’t in the cards, and as that realization dawns on me, I run back to my dorm, locking it tight.

  Seven

  The next day, I head to the shared bathroom down the hall, my caddy in hand, my mind in a negative space.

  We have communal showers. It’s kind of despairing when you think too hard, but they’re trying to be less regressive. There are five showers on each side with curtains and hangers outside for towels and laundry bags. The center has two long benches, and toward the south side, there are changing areas. Since we share with both guys and girls, it’s helpful to have some sense of privacy.

  Pushing open the door, I’m welcomed with noiselessness. Serene. It’s never packed while classes are in session. Lucky me.

  I hang my towel and undress. It should be noted that though this is a communal shower, it’s implicitly meant for girls. It’s the least frequented one in the tower since girls were only allowed at this school in the last decade. Guys generally stay toward the east part of the tower, the chicks on the west. It should bug the staff, but they don’t stop anything. It’s like we’re expected to be adults, do everything on our own, and pretend we have our shit together.

  Plot twist. We don’t.

  As I turn the knob almost all the way to the left, the water runs. The heat of the shower invades the empty stall, scalding my skin, but it’s a welcome ache. Experiencing pain and pleasure and everything in between instead of the mind-numbing void Cassidy’s death brings me is freeing. When you live through someone’s death, one so close to your heart, it ruins that soft part of you, the tangible one who empathizes with others, offering kindness and emotions. It steals every hope and dream too, promising only ruin and a never-ending ache on the soul.

  That’s what it did to me, took the naïve girl and forced her to become dead in a living world. They aren’t wrong when they call me a vampire. I let life suck me dry and, in turn, suck the happiness from everyone closest to me. The way I dress doesn’t help, but I’m not changing for a single soul.

  Steam rises as my body absorbs each moment with the heat showering my skin. The kiss and pinpricks that lick each crevasse as I breathe in have me feeling removed from the world for once, allowing me an escape from my own damaging thoughts. I’m not supposed to use hot water on my hair since it makes the colors bleed out faster, but who cares? Certainly not me. I have to get my hair done every three weeks. It’s almost time to get it touched up anyway. Hopefully, Scotty, my hairstylist, will drive out here to do it. Paying to go to town for it sucks, and sneaking out of this campus isn’t the easiest feat. Unless she absolutely refuses to venture here, then it’ll be a must. She’s not exactly a fan of this place. Can anyone blame her?

  After my skin feels numb to everything with red and blotchy spots, I turn off the water, hating the chill that settles as soon as the steam escapes. Reaching for the towel hanging outside, my hand collides with cold unbothered tile. I pat my palm around, wondering if it’s more one way than the other. Flat porcelain and the metal kiss of the towel rack are all that greets me. What the fuck? The shower curtain, currently the only thing hiding me, is my saving grace. As I peek around it in search of my stuff, my heart deflates. It’s gone. Everything. My clothes, my towel, and my cell.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I hiss loudly, hearing the words echo like a bad joke. This better not be a prissy bitch’s doing, or I swear to God...

  “No joke, Vampire. Seems you’re without clothing,” his voice sing-songs.

  My blood runs cold, mirroring the tile my hands just touched, sending a newfound chill over my body. Nonononono. It can’t be. No. Please, no. But I know it. The memories gnaw at my bones, sharp reminders that this boy has engraved himself onto each one permanently.

  When death meets her maker, does she kiss him hello, or does she kick and scream the entire time he drags her away?

  “Ross?” I question the hidden person, already knowing the answer. Ross McAllister. Along with Lennox, he’s the only true dick in my life, and we’re not talking about the pleasurable kind. “Where the fuck is my stuff?”

  “What? No, how was your summer, or, I’m sorry I bailed on you in Student Gov? What about I miss you, Rossy? You’re my favorite.”

  “My shit. Where is it?” I growl, evading his questions. Deep down, he does want the answers. He may act with nonchalance, but inside that body is a guy who wants love and has more abandonment issues than a lost puppy.

  My fingers tighten around the curtains, hoping he doesn’t come closer. It’s been months since I’ve seen him. Didn’t expect to pass by him often. We don’t exactly run in the same circles, other than the obvious one with his friends who like torturing me. Student Gov.

  “Colty, Colty, Colty,” he taunts, making me shiver more. Even when Ross and I didn’t fight, we were never friends. Not really. He and Cass were the closest aside from Ten. He always thought of me as Cassidy’s bratty little sister.

  Some friend he was.

  “Did you miss me?” His voice drips with both syrup and venom, the combination as sweet as it is damning.

  “No,” I whisper, clutching the curtain across my chest.

  He finally comes into view, and my mouth dries up. In the last six months, he’s gotten bulkier. Ross was never slim, but he didn’t pack this much muscle before. He’s not sporting his uniform, no. He’s wearing only gray sweatpants that sit very low on his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination. Shirtless and charming as fucking night, he quirks a brow. His nipples are pierced and staring right at me, and his abs... Jesus. He’s grown. I stare at his muscular arms and tattoos I didn’t know he had. He’s a sight, and I hate him for it. His hair, unlike last year, is gray and buzzed short. Really short. His eyes, green and mossy as ever, taunt me. An upside-down cross blesses his temple near his left eye, and it’s got me gobsmacked. That goddamn mole that resides on the left corner of his lip taunts me as much as his words. Ross is a demon in and out of the uniform he rarely wears. His demerits are always stacked, but mostly based upon his non-approved attire.

  Another change in him is his dimples. They’re pierced. My eyes are stuck on that tidbit. What I’d do to bite them. I lick my lips subconsciously thinking of it.

  “I think you’re lying.” He smirks, making his piercings indent in such a churlish way. He seems mischievous even while being a dick. His body is merely two feet away now. The glint in his bright green irises has me pausing and tensing with expectation. Not the pleasant kind either. “I think you miss having me around to flirt with you as you blush seven shades of crimson.”

  “You’re wrong,” I squeak.

  He closes the distance. “Too bad about your clothes, princess. Quite liked the lacy thong.” He closes the distance between us and thumbs my chin ardently, touching me like I’m his to touch. I’m not. He flames my skin as he smiles. “Much more tempting without makeup.” He swipes my wet bottom lip, spreading the beads of water across.

  With that last act of assholery, he walks away, leaving me naked and shivering in
the bathroom.

  Fuck him. Goddammit.

  It takes me several minutes to get the shower curtain off the bar above me. It wasn’t pretty and hopefully, no one hid and recorded that show.

  I literally waddle all the way back to my room, praying he will give my phone back at the very least. Both my moms will kill me if not. It’s only two weeks in. Being down a phone this early on will lead them to be less lenient with me.

  The door to my dorm is somehow slightly ajar, saving me a trip for a new badge. In my haste, my body collides into someone.

  “Fuck!” I shout, dropping the shower curtain.

  My mouth falls open in an attempt to say something and cover myself up, but at this point, it’s too late.

  Ten stands there with a smirk hotter than a stove coil as I squirm under its weight. His eyes rake my frame appreciatively. “You’ve definitely grown up, Greenie.”

  It’s been two weeks, and I’ve had encounters with every fucked-up Student Gov member, and the whiplash of salty and sweet thrown my way is just too much.

  “Can you turn around?” I request meekly. He may have seen it all before, but it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time, and my body has changed a lot since. And the piercings. Shit. The piercings.

  “Can’t. Struck stupid.” He hums his approval.

  Finally, I bend down, and my fingers fumble a bit before they grip the shower curtain, and I cower behind it once again.

  “When did you get those?”

  I open my mouth then close it. It happens a couple more times before he laughs.

  “I remember everything about you, Kid. Those are definitely new.” He emphasizes by pinching his nipples.

  I groan, my face feeling hot. “Why are you here, Ten?”