After Campus Bullies Broke Me, My Family Made Them Pay

The narrow dorm hallway was crammed with gawkers, bodies pressed wall to wall.

Two girls and two guys in athletic jerseys—School of Physical Education printed across the front—cut through the crowd like they owned it.

They swung their fists in the air, snarling at the crowd to get back to their rooms.

Anyone who dared call the cops or pull out a phone to record, they said, would regret it.

I stepped out of the dorm just as they chased the last straggler back inside.

The moment the door to 201 opened, a girl with dyed red hair whipped out her phone and checked my face against Ruby's.

Then stopped in front of me.

She lowered the phone, revealing a bony face, and pinched her nose as her eyes crawled over me head to toe.

“I was wondering where that stank was coming from. Turns out it's the little slut some eighty-year-old man's paying to keep around.”

The three guys let out suggestive laughs.

The other girl leaned one hand against the guy in the number-three jersey, her eyes ice-cold.

“So you're Penelope Simmons?”

I frowned slightly, looking up at the girl in front of me. She had a full head on me in height and hair dyed every color of the rainbow.

I nodded.

At the same time, I was already guessing. This had to be Delilah Perry, the one who'd been coming after me.

Delilah's expression turned vicious.

Crack——

A slap exploded across my face so hard my ears rang.

The numbness bloomed into searing pain, and humiliated tears pooled in my eyes before I could stop them.

The hallway went dead silent for three seconds.

Then someone whistled：

“Get her, Delilah!”

Delilah's voice cut through again.

“So you're the dirty little skank who knew damn well he was taken and still went after my boyfriend, huh!”

Ruby rushed to steady me.

“Penny, are you okay?”

I swiped at my tears and shook my head.

Delilah sneered：

“Playing the helpless little victim, are we?”

She pulled out her phone, brought up a photo, and shoved the screen into my face.

“My boyfriend is Mike Matthews, Financial Management Class 3. Go ahead and tell me you don't know him.”

When I saw what was on the screen, my mind went blank.

It was a photo of me and Mike sitting together in a café.

The angle made it look intimate. Much more than it was.

Delilah seemed pleased with my reaction. She turned the phone around and flashed it at Ruby, the one who'd been defending me.

Ruby's face changed. Her eyes darted between me and the photo.

When she saw my complicated expression and the fact that I hadn't denied it, she quietly backed into the dorm.

The door slammed shut behind her.

The red-haired girl scoffed：

“At least your roommate has some sense. Knows you're in the wrong, so she's not sticking her neck out for you anymore.”

Delilah pocketed her phone and shoved me hard.

“I freakin' told you—you think you can do shit and nobody finds out? Why do you think I trashed your comforter? To smoke you out. And you fell for it just like that. I don't even know how you hid it this long.”

Each shove drove me backward until my spine hit the cold wall.

Staring into her bloodshot eyes, I felt my confidence drain away for no real reason.

I had gone on that blind date with Mike. But I was the innocent one here.

The one who was wrong was him, going on blind dates while he had a girlfriend.

I steadied myself and opened my mouth to explain：

“You've got the wrong person……”

Before I could finish, the red-haired girl seized a fistful of my hair and wrenched me in front of Delilah.

I cried out. The pain ripped through my scalp so violently that my vision went dark in flashes, and every ounce of resistance drained out of me.

Delilah smiled coldly and slapped me across the face, backhand and forehand, cursing with every blow：

“I knew you wouldn't own up to it.”

“How did your parents raise a piece of trash like you? Do they know you sell yourself for money?”

I lifted my face, swollen beyond recognition, and retched. Blood came up in a hot rush, a tooth tumbling out with it.

Humiliation, terror, helplessness, rage, all of it detonated at once.

I screamed through my tears, my voice tearing itself raw：

“I'm not a mistress! I only met Mike Matthews once!”

Delilah's patience snapped.

“Still not gonna talk unless I make you, huh?”

Her gaze cut over me like a blade, slow and deliberate, until it settled somewhere below my neck.

“You two. Strip her.”

The two guys froze for a second, then rubbed their hands together and moved toward me with ugly grins.

I curled in on myself, arms wrapped tight around my body, tears spinning in my eyes.

“Please don't. I'm begging you. I'm really not a mistress. Mike can back me up.”

The next second, the sound of fabric ripping echoed down the silent hallway.

Delilah pulled out her phone and aimed it at my face, her voice dripping with satisfaction she didn't even try to hide.

“Every other word out of your mouth is Mike this, Mike that, and you still want to pretend you only met him once? You slut. Let's see just how big your tits are, how fat your ass is!”