PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 4 Never Bending

That night, I didn’t sleep. Not really.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my notes still open beside me like they were waiting for a version of me that could focus.

But my mind kept replaying everything… his words, his expression, the moment he realized I wasn’t going to bend.

And the silence after. I had crossed something. Not a line, but a boundary. And people like Wallace Rachford didn’t just let that go.

The next morning proved it.

It started small. It always did.

“Sorry, this seat’s taken.”

I paused mid-step, glancing at the empty chair. There was no bag. No book. No sign that anyone owned it.

“I don’t think it is,” I said calmly.

The girl smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It is.”

Behind her, two others watched, their expressions almost… expectant. Waiting. For what? For me to argue? To push? To lose?

I held her gaze for a second longer.

Then I nodded once. “Alright.”

And walked away. Not because I agreed, but because I understood.

Another annoying thing happened at the cafeteria. Again.

This time, my account worked. But something else didn’t.

“Oops… sorry.”

The tray slipped from my hands as someone ‘accidentally’ bumped into me from behind. Food spilled across the floor, rice scattering, sauce staining my sleeve.

A few people turned. No one stepped forward.

“I didn’t see you there,” the girl said, though her tone made it clear she had.

She was one of them. Not Wallace. But close enough to orbit him.

“It’s fine,” I said, even though it wasn’t.

Because reacting would only give them what they wanted. And I won’t give them the satisfaction they want.

She tilted her head slightly. “You should be more careful.”

I met her gaze. “I was. It’s just that, we can’t avoid stupid people roaming around.”

A flicker of irritation crossed her face.

“Are you calling me stupid?” she confronted. I faked a shocking expression and smiled.

“Oh… are you?” I innocently replied. Her face turned sour and bolted. Good.

I crouched down, picking up what I could, ignoring the stares, the whispers that weren’t even subtle anymore.

“She’s the one…”

“Wallace noticed her, right?”

“Yeah. Not in a good way, though.”

Of course not. Nothing about this was good.

I thought those two inconveniences were enough to live my life a bit more peacefully. But I was wrong.

At the library… at my last place. Or so I thought.

I sat down, opened my laptop, and tried to focus. I had already adjusted my schedule… waking up earlier, sleeping later, finding time when there wasn’t any.

If they made things harder, I would just work harder. Simple. Until it wasn’t.

“Hey, can you move?”

I looked up. A guy stood beside my table, arms crossed.

“There are other seats,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I want this one.”

I held his gaze. He wasn’t even hiding it.

“Why?” I asked.

A smirk. “Because I can.”

There it was again. Power. Borrowed this time. Not his… but used anyway. I closed my laptop slowly.

“Take it,” I said, standing. Not surrender, but strategy. Because this wasn’t about a chair. It never was.

As I walked away, I heard it…

“Damn, she didn’t even fight back.”

“Boring.”

I almost smiled. They didn’t understand. Fighting the wrong battles was how you lost the war.

The next day, everyone is busy. It was for our group presentation. But in my case, it was an individual task.

I stood in front of the room, my slides ready, my notes memorized, every detail prepared down to the last second. If they expected me to fail… they were going to be disappointed.

“Begin,” the professor said.

I did.

Clear, direct and controlled.

Halfway through, someone interrupted.

“Can you repeat that?”

I glanced toward the voice. One of the girls from yesterday. Her expression was innocent. Too innocent.

“Of course,” I said, repeating the explanation.

Two minutes later, another interruption.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense.”

A different voice, but the same pattern. I adjusted and kept going. But I could feel it now. The rhythm breaking. The focus slipping.

Not because I didn’t know the material, but because they were making sure no one else could follow it.

By the time I finished, the room felt… distracted. Unimpressed. Exactly what they wanted.

“Thank you, Miss Patterson,” the professor said, though his tone lacked conviction.

I nodded and returned to my seat. Behind me, I heard a quiet laugh. It was low and familiar, but I didn’t turn. However, I felt it.

I know he was watching me.

At the end of the day, I was tired, not physically… something deeper. But I kept walking.

Because stopping meant thinking… and thinking meant giving them space in my head they didn’t deserve.

“Still standing.”

I stopped. Closed my eyes briefly, then turned. Wallace leaned against the wall like he had been waiting. Of course, he had.

“You sound surprised,” I said.

“I am,” he admitted.

That was new.

“You should’ve taken the offer,” he continued.

I let out a quiet breath. “You mean your version of a compromise?”

His gaze sharpened slightly. “It would’ve saved you time.”

“And self-respect,” I added.

A pause. Then he pushed off the wall, stepping closer.

“You think this is about pride?” he asked.

“I think this is about you needing control,” I replied. “And not getting it.”

Something flickered in his eyes again. There… that same crack.

“You’re making things harder than they need to be.”

“And you’re making them happen in the first place.”

Silence followed. Not empty, but heavy.

“You’re not going to win this,” he said quietly.

I held his gaze.

“I’m not trying to win,” I replied.

“Then what are you doing?”

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder.

“Surviving,” I said. “And that’s something you clearly don’t understand.”

That landed. I saw it. Even if he didn’t want me to. I turned and started walking again.

“Nyra.”

I didn’t stop. Because I knew now, this wasn’t just pressure. This was escalation.

And if he thought I would break, then he was about to learn something the hard way. Because I didn’t come from comfort. I came from nothing.

And people like me? We don’t fall apart under pressure. We adapt; we endure. And eventually, we push back.

I had five minutes. Five.

I checked the time on my phone as I walked faster, my steps almost turning into a run. The hallway was thinning out… most students were already inside their classrooms, doors closing one by one.

I couldn’t be late. Not again. Not when I was already carrying more than everyone else.

My grip tightened around my bag as I turned the corner leading to my next class. Just a few more steps. I could already see the door, then it happened…

Something cold, wet and heavy. It hit me all at once, and I froze.

For a split second, my brain didn’t register it. My body just… stopped. Like it refused to process what had just happened.

Then the smell hit. Sharp. Sour. Rotting. My stomach twisted instantly. I looked down.

My clothes were soaked… splattered in thick, uneven streaks of something dark and light mixed together. It clung to the fabric, dripping slowly, sticking to my skin.

“What the–”

I heard laughter above me. I looked up. I saw nothing. Just the empty railing of the upper floor.

More laughter… fading this time. Footsteps running. Then, gone.

Like it never happened. My chest tightened. For a moment, I just stood there. People were staring. Of course they were.

Some covered their noses. Others whispered, not even bothering to hide it.

“Ew…”

“What is that?”

“Did someone dump garbage on her?”

My ears rang. I couldn’t move. Not because I didn’t want to, but because something inside me just… froze.

Humiliation hit differently when it was this public. This is deliberate… and absolutely cruel.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe through the smell, through the heat rising to my face.

Don’t cry, Nyra. Not here. Not in front of them. I tightened my jaw, gripping my bag harder as I turned away from the classroom door.

Five minutes didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. The walk to the shower room felt longer than it should have.

Every step, I could feel it… wet fabric clinging to my skin, the smell following me, sticking to me no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

People moved out of my way. Not out of respect, but out of disgust. I kept my head down. Just keep walking to get there.

The shower room was empty.

Thank God.

The moment the door closed behind me, something inside me cracked. Not completely. But enough.

I dropped my bag carefully on the bench, my hands shaking as I peeled my clothes away from my skin. The smell was worse up close. I had to stop myself from gagging.

“What… is this…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

It didn’t matter. It was intentional. That was enough.

I turned the water on. It was colder than I expected. I didn’t care.

The moment it hit my skin, I flinched, but I stayed there, letting it wash over me, over everything, like it could take the feeling away with it.

It didn’t. I scrubbed harder than I needed to. Again, and again… and again. Like if I stopped, I’d still feel it there.

My hands trembled. My breathing became uneven. And then… I broke.

A small sound at first. Then another. Until I couldn’t stop it anymore.

Tears fell faster than I could control, mixing with the water, my chest constricting as everything I had been holding in finally pushed through.

“I just…” my voice trembled, barely audible. “I just want to study…”

It sounded so small. So simple. And yet… it felt impossible.

I pressed my forehead against the cold tile, my shoulders shaking as the frustration built up inside me, sharp and overwhelming.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve all these…” I whispered.

But it didn’t matter. Not here. Not to them.

A sob escaped before I could stop it. Because it wasn’t just this. It was everything.

The missed opportunities. The constant pressure. The way every step forward came with something pulling me back.

And now… this.

My class that I was going to miss by force. Another absence. Another mark against me.

My things… I turned slightly, glancing at my bag.

Ruined.

My notes, my books… everything soaked.

A shaky breath left my lips as fresh tears fell.

“I don’t even have… anything to change into…”

The words came out broken. Because it was true. I didn’t have extra clothes. I didn’t have backups like the rich girls here.

I didn’t have the kind of life where something like this was just an inconvenience.

For me, it was everything.

I slid down slowly against the wall, the water still running, my knees pulling in slightly as I covered my face with my hands.

I cried harder. Not because I was weak. But because I was tired. So tired.

“I just want to finish…” I whispered. “That’s all I want…”

No games. No power. No attention. Just… finish.

But even that felt like too much to ask. And for the first time since I stepped into this university… I felt it.

No matter how hard I tried, they wouldn’t let me win.