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.

knew what it was like. I knew that feeling—the cold dread in your stomach, the

at the ceiling, and suddenly I was

Grade two.

wanted to laze around and sneak extra cake from Mom. I’d gone to

teacher came in like a storm. Banging the door, face red, fury dancing in her eyes. She didn’t

survival. Kids flinching, tears forming. She

answered fast. No

didn’t answer a single one right. The teacher had it out for him. He flinched every time she walked by, already red from her cruel little pinches. And when the class ended, he looked at

recess, he cornered me behind

think you’re better than me?" he

Just

grabbed me. Pinched me. Over and over. Red marks bloomed across my arms. His fat fingers digging in. I could still

teeth.

So I kept quiet.

I didn’t tell Dad. But Clare? Clare knew something was up. She always

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

She promised.

woke up eager for school, which never happened. She hated it more than math itself. Even Mom raised an eyebrow

afternoon, Billy came to

tough Billy. Red-faced

the teacher asked what happened to him, Clare sang

Billy nodded. Hard.

She bit Billy.