Rejected by the Beta, Claimed by the Alpha

Chapter 145: Scared Roomie

Clark POV:

I lay on that unfamiliar mattress, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the slow, rhythmic hum of the building. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked, then slammed. Someone laughed—too loud, too long. The wind outside scraped faintly against the windows, like fingers tracing the glass.

Still no reply from Sara. My last message just hung there, delivered, unread.

I tried not to spiral, tried to tell myself she was just busy. She was probably knee-deep in open suitcases, already gossiping with her roommates about who’s hot, who’s weird, and which prof has the ugliest shoes. That’s what girls did, right?

Maybe it was the shaken figure curled up on the other bed, wrapped tight in the covers like the walls might cave in. I didn’t even know his name. I’d literally just arrived at the dorms, and now this?

I should’ve left. Maybe wandered around. Found a vending machine. But one look at him—his shoulders twitching with every random sound, his soft gasps like he was holding in a scream—and I knew I couldn’t. No way I was leaving this guy alone.

Sometimes when fear claws through you, you just want someone. Anyone. Even a stranger.

So, yeah, I stayed.

The dorm lights buzzed faintly as night crept in. The shadows outside our window grew deeper, longer. A strange hush settled over the building. I couldn’t hear much beyond the faint wind whistling outside. No chatting from neighboring rooms, no footsteps. It was like the building exhaled and then forgot how to breathe again.

I lay down, hoping sleep would drag me under. It didn’t.

I tossed, turned, my mind buzzing.

Everything kept pointing back to one thing: bullies. It had to be. The guy in bed looked like someone who had been cornered, shaken down, probably roughed up for looking the way he did—delicate, pretty, fragile even. Maybe they thought he was an easy target.

I hated bullies.

God, I hated them.

because I knew what it was like. I knew that feeling—the cold dread in your stomach, the shame of being seen as weak, the

turned on my side, staring at the ceiling, and

Grade two.

sick—faked it, actually. She just wanted to laze around and sneak extra cake from Mom. I’d gone to school anyway, being the good twin, thinking I could take

math teacher came in like a storm. Banging the door, face red, fury dancing in her eyes. She didn’t even open her books—just started firing off addition questions like bullets. Anyone

flinching, tears forming. She didn’t spare anyone. Except

I answered fast. No pinches for

she walked by, already red from her cruel little pinches. And when the class ended, he looked

during recess, he cornered me

better

nothing. Just tried to walk

arms. His fat fingers digging in. I could still hear him laughing. His breath smelled like stale cereal. I didn’t cry—not in front of him—but inside,

if I ever told anyone, he’d knock out my front teeth. Said people would laugh every

So I kept quiet.

But

caught me alone in our room that night and cornered me with her signature scowl. I gave in. Told her everything—on one

She promised.

never happened. She hated it more than math itself. Even Mom raised an eyebrow but let

afternoon, Billy came

tough Billy. Red-faced

to him, Clare

Billy nodded. Hard.

She bit Billy.