Defiant Princess (Boys of Oak Park Prep #2) - Callie Rose Page 0,25

coerce me or any of the fucked up shit I knew they were capable of.

I existed as a lone entity. It was just me against them, and I knew that threw them off.

But holy fucking goddamn, it was exhausting.

Maybe that was why my guard was down as I walked out of Craydon Hall on Friday. I’d had it up like a shield all week, fighting back against my tormenters in the hallways and classrooms.

But I had made it to Friday. I was free. For two whole days, I was free.

Shoving open the doors of the school building, I tipped my face up toward the sun—it was late September, but the weather was still warm. My backpack was slung over one shoulder, stuffed full of books for a marathon study session over the weekend.

Just as I was about to start down the steps, Adena’s voice called from just behind me.

“Hey, Idaho slut!”

I turned to face her, some choice words about her mother already on the tip of my tongue, but before I could say anything, she shot both hands out and shoved at my chest.

My feet stumbled backward, catching the lip of the top step leading up to Craydon.

There weren’t that many steps. Just four.

But it didn’t matter.

A deep, overwhelming panic flooded my body like poison as my mind skipped back in time five years, putting me at the top of the stairs in the old apartment complex my dad and I had lived in.

He’d pushed me just like that. Two hands, right below my clavicles.

Not even a hard push.

He had punched me and slapped me so much harder than that. The push hadn’t even been meant to hurt me, really, and that had made it so much worse.

I stumbled back one too many steps, and my feet caught the edge of the stairs. Then I was falling through open space.

Too much open space.

My back hit the steps hard, and I rolled awkwardly, the momentum of my body too powerful to stop. My legs contorted painfully, and I heard a snapping sound, like wood cracking, as they broke.

That had been two full flights.

There were only four steps up to Craydon Hall.

But it didn’t matter.

Not my legs! Not my legs!

It was the only half-formed thought that penetrated the pure terror filling my mind, and I contorted my body, trying to land on my side—to keep my legs safe.

My arms reached out to try to brace for impact as I fell too far through space.

Then I hit the ground, and I… shattered.

The air flew from my lungs as my arms and side bore the brunt of the impact. My head smacked into my bicep as my hands hit the concrete.

My skirt had ridden up, and my backpack had fallen off, and I knew people were watching. Probably laughing.

But I couldn’t hear it. My mind was still back at the bottom of the staircase in Sand Valley, still reeling from what my father had done. Pain shot through my legs, and I couldn’t tell if it was real or remembered.

I needed to get up.

I needed to show them they couldn’t win. That they hadn’t broken me.

My lungs convulsed, demanding air but unable to draw any in. When I finally sucked in breath, it came with a painful wheezing sound. My arms shook when I tried to press up to my hands and knees, and I managed to crawl a few feet before they gave out again.

The look on my father’s face kept flashing in my mind. I had watched him as I’d flown through all that empty air, the treacherous ground so very far away. I had seen the expression on his face.

Surprise.

The way someone might look if they’d knocked a lamp off a table, watching it fall and knowing it was too late to save it.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to hurt me that badly.

Not that time.

But he had anyway.

I curled up into a ball, ignoring everything else around me as memories consumed me.

I couldn’t let them see me break.

But I was breaking.

All I could do was make myself as small as possible—keep one tiny part of myself protected.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

The voice was low and dangerous, and it penetrated the fog in my mind, briefly overtaking the sound of my father’s voice in my memory.

“She fell! What the hell are you looking at me for?”

There were more voices. Some raised in anger, one low and controlled. But I couldn’t hear what they were saying, couldn’t