I was bullied for three years, living in darkness. To escape this hell, I chose to climb into my bully’s bed, doing everything I could to please him, just to earn a bit of pity. Then, I sent him to prison myself. My relationship with Ethan Miller began when I shamelessly broke into his apartment. I lay on his bed, pulling the covers over myself when I heard the door open. As he walked into the bedroom, I could sense his footsteps and breath falter for a moment. When he lifted the covers, he saw me. I glanced at him, waiting for him to come closer, but he just stood there, looking at me. He lit a cigarette, coldly flicked the ash onto me, and raised an eyebrow, sneering, “Lia Parker, how desperate are you? Aren’t you just here for business? Get the hell off my bed right now! You’re filthy.” I wiped off the ash and sat up, using every ounce of my strength to appear seductive: “Say what you want. Even if you think that, I won’t take a cent from you. You can do whatever you want.” He slapped me hard across the face, turning my head to the side. “Whatever I want? How about this?” My cheek burned with pain, but I still smiled coyly: “Of course, today I’ll do whatever you say.” He gripped my arm and cursed, “You’re disgusting, just like everyone says.” Yes, I thought, I do feel utterly disgusting right now. But I still tried my best to charm him. Afterward, with a cigarette in one hand and the other wrapped around me, I could tell he was satisfied with my performance. He blew smoke in my face: “What’s your price?” I swallowed my nausea and giggled in response: “I don’t want your money.” “Oh really?” He grabbed my hair, “You’re making me happy, so how about you stick with me from now on?” I tilted my head back to lessen the pain from my hair being pulled: “I’m telling you, I’m nothing like the rumors. Do you believe me?” He laughed mockingly: “Don’t play coy with me. Who have you been with before?” “Ha, if I said I didn’t even know, would you believe that?” This was the start of my relationship with Ethan Miller, but it wasn’t my first time doing something like this. Who were the others before him? I truly didn’t know. It was as if I didn’t know what I did wrong that led my life to this point, deeply mired in a quagmire, unable to escape.
Ethan Miller wasn’t joking. He saved my contact information, and from then on, he’d reach out to me every few days. No matter what I was doing, I would drop everything to be there. I had to seize every opportunity. Every time I left his apartment, I walked away without taking a dime and without a word. After a while, one day he suddenly pulled me into his arms and curiously asked, “Just last night, a buddy of mine saw you at the cafeteria’s charity line, grabbing those two-dollar meals and drinking free soup. Is that even food? Not even fit for pigs! You’re so broke you can’t afford a meal, and you act like you’re above it all? Don’t you feel even a little tempted by this money? Not a cent? I don’t believe it!” I looked up at him in his arms, my gaze sincere: “I’m not after your money, so I won’t take a cent.” That wasn’t a lie; I didn’t seek him out for money. He smirked, scrutinizing me: “Then why are you so eager to find me? You think I’m handsome?” He had a decent face, but his soul was rotten. I wasn’t interested. Seeing me silent, he added, “Don’t say it’s because you love me. I don’t buy that. If you’re going to say that, you might as well leave.” I placed my hand on his chest: “I wasn’t going to say that. Ethan, you asked, so I had to be honest. My sister really likes you, and I just enjoy stealing what my sister likes. How does that sound? Are you satisfied?” He looked a bit bewildered: “Your sister? Who?” “Sophie Parker.” He burst into laughter: “That clingy one?” I nodded. To him, Sophie Parker was a pathetic clingy girl, but in my world, she was the culprit behind my ruined life. He pressed my head into his chest and rubbed it roughly until I felt suffocated: “You like stealing things? So I’ve become a thing now? Fine! But Lia, let me tell you, I’m not a stingy person. You don’t want money? I’ll give you something else. From now on, I’ll protect you, and Sophie will never bully you again.” That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
Sophie Parker had bullied me for four whole years. I spent three years of high school under her shadow and couldn’t shake her off in college either. Thanks to Sophie, rumors about me spread at the start of freshman year, and everyone thought I was loose. Shortly after school started, she brought a gang of friends to beat me up and humiliate me in the dance studio while Ethan stood by and watched. He was also one of the bullies. But when I looked up, he saw my face. I had known since childhood that I wasn’t bad-looking. It was precisely because I was somewhat pretty that I endured some dirty malice. Some men think pretty women are just there for sale; no one cares if the rumors are true. They just enjoy humiliating beautiful girls they can’t have. Ethan stared at my face for a while, then waved his hand impatiently: “Enough, enough. I’m tired of watching this; let her have a way out.” No one dared to defy him, not even Sophie, who reluctantly let go. So, I was saved. Then he came up to me, grabbed my hair, and forced me to lift my face: “You’re quite pretty. What’s your price?” Everyone laughed, and someone pointed at me, saying serving Ethan was a privilege; I should be grateful and thank him. Ethan was a player, switching girlfriends more often than changing clothes. With his father on the board of trustees, he spent his time drinking, fighting, and racing, living life to the fullest. His family was wealthy and influential, and I heard he had gotten into serious trouble before, once pushing someone off the sixth floor, leaving them paralyzed, and even robbing girls walking alone at night, but his family always bailed him out. When he said that, I realized he wasn’t showing mercy; he was just attracted to my looks. What a rotten person. He didn’t want to save me. He was merely lusting after me and wanted to humiliate me. That fleeting moment of desire became the root of my tragic life. I hated him. But at least, at this moment, I would still do everything I could to please him. I fell into the abyss because of him, but I would also use him to climb back up.
To be honest, my life at school was anything but normal. My family was wealthy, but I received no allowance from them. My tuition was covered by student loans, and I survived on work-study jobs and part-time work. From Monday to Friday, I stood at the cafeteria’s oil-poured noodle window for an hour and a half each day, earning five hundred dollars a month plus one free meal. On weekends, I tutored and handed out flyers to earn some meager pocket money. After Ethan took me under his wing, I neglected my weekend jobs to deal with him, significantly reducing my income. Aside from working, I dedicated all my time to studying, sleeping only five and a half hours a night. It was tough, but I relished it. I was planning to apply for a study abroad program in South Korea, which was funded, and only the best students could get this opportunity. I wanted to leave this place, so I had to seize this chance. While working at the noodle window, I wore a mask and a hat, covering myself up so those who bullied me wouldn’t recognize me. But honestly, even if they did, it shouldn’t matter. Ethan said he’d protect me, and I guessed he told Sophie something because she had been quiet for a long time. She and her gang hadn’t bothered me in ages. That afternoon, there weren’t many people, it was the peak of summer, and the heat in the kitchen was suffocating. I couldn’t stand it anymore and secretly took off my mask for a moment. In just those few minutes, I was recognized by Sophie’s lackey, Hannah Smith. Hannah came up to the window to stir trouble, pointing at me and mockingly shouting that no one would dare eat what a “chicken” had touched, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. I watched through the glass as people whispered and pointed—“Huh? Is that really Lia Parker? I heard she’s pretty. What’s she doing here? Is she sick?”—male and female voices overlapping and blending, drowning me in a sea of chatter. Those voices felt vivid, yet they seemed like meaningless symbols flowing past my ears. I was used to it. I didn’t care. Suddenly, a soda bottle came flying toward Hannah, hitting her squarely in the head, and she stumbled to the ground. Everyone turned to look, and Ethan came over. I knew he never ate cafeteria food, so I felt safe working there. I had no idea why he was here today. I figured Hannah thought Ethan wouldn’t show up, so she dared to cause trouble, probably intending to brag to Sophie later. As Hannah tried to get up, Ethan didn’t care that she was a girl. He stepped on her head and ground his shoe against her hand, listening to her wail in pain. He looked around menacingly, threatening her and everyone present: “What the hell did you just say? Take those words back! If I hear anyone talking about her again, they’ll regret it. If you don’t want to lose an arm or a leg or not graduate, just try it. By the way, tell Sophie Parker I’m protecting Lia. Don’t think you can get away with bullying her just because I’m not around; you’re going to cross me if you do, got it?” Ethan lifted his foot, and Hannah nodded, crawling away in a hurry. He walked up to the window and knocked on the glass: “Come outside with me.” “I’m not off work yet.” He rolled his eyes: “Then give me a plate of noodles.” I quickly cooked up a serving of noodles and handed it to him. He took the takeout and leaned closer to the window: “Come find me when you’re done.” I nodded, and he turned to leave. As soon as he was gone, the boss patted me on the shoulder, looking conflicted, and told me not to come back anymore; he would settle my pay. Well, after all that, who would still dare to employ me? Now my life was going to get even tougher. So, I took off my uniform and stepped outside. People in the cafeteria would still sneak glances at me, but no one dared to discuss me anymore. I exited the cafeteria and found Ethan not heading home but sitting on the steps smoking, still holding the takeout of noodles. I reached out my hand: “Give it to me; I’ll throw it away.” “Why throw it away?” He looked up at me, “I haven’t eaten yet.” “Aren’t you the one who never eats cafeteria food?” “I haven’t, but I wanted to try something new.” He extinguished his cigarette, stood up, and started walking toward the school gate. “What the hell are you doing? My friends told me you were working at the cafeteria, and I didn’t believe it. But here you are! Even if you covered yourself up, I still recognized you. I give you so much money, and you refuse it, happily working here as cheap labor, huh? What exactly are you after?” I smiled: “I’ve said I don’t want your money, but I have to live. My family doesn’t give me any money, so how can I afford to eat without working?” He seemed surprised: “Sophie Parker is your sister; her family is your family, right? Your family is wealthy, so how come she lives so well while you have nothing? Is this all you live on?” “Now I don’t even have this; the boss fired me.” I didn’t want to cry. I thought I was strong enough, but at that moment, tears flowed uncontrollably. I wasn’t just upset about the five hundred dollars; I was worried that as soon as I got my life on track, Sophie and her friends would pounce, leaving me with nothing. Despair. True despair. But how could Ethan like a crying woman? So, I wiped my tears, crying and laughing at the same time. He wiped my face roughly: “What are you crying about? How much is a plate of noodles worth? Three hundred? Five hundred? I’ll give you ten times that! Stick with me, and you can have whatever you want!” He waved the takeout of noodles, “Haven’t you skipped lunch too? Why not eat this?” I paused for a moment: “… I worked there for two and a half months, eating this every day for free. I’m sick of it; just the sight of noodles makes me nauseous.” He stared at me for a while, then burst out laughing, pulling me into a small restaurant he often frequented, ordering an entire feast. I shamelessly devoured everything. This was the most sumptuous meal I’d had since starting college. I couldn’t possibly eat that much, but I still stuffed my face. Eating filled my brain with dopamine, bringing me joy, and my mind would remember that feeling. I just wanted to seek a little happiness in my muddy life. Even if it was just a bit.
Although I lost my job at the noodle window, after Ethan’s scene in the cafeteria, no one dared to bully me again, nor did they dare to gossip—at least not in front of me. Ethan insisted I take his money. He pointed at my face and cursed, “Lia Parker, what the hell is with that inexplicable pride? Just come live with me; I’ll take care of you.” So I moved into his place, avoiding those roommates who isolated me, which wasn’t bad. Everyone knew we were living together, but whether to me or outsiders, he never referred to me as his girlfriend. He often wasn’t home, out partying with friends and probably getting involved with other women. But I didn’t mind. He didn’t come home but hired a maid to cook three meals a day for me. My food and accommodation were taken care of, so whether or not I worked didn’t matter. On days he was gone, I could use more time to study. One day, he surprisingly came home early. I was wearing headphones and didn’t hear him come in. He walked up behind me and tapped my shoulder, startling me. I turned around, and he picked up my book, glanced at it, then threw it back, smacking his lips: “You’re still studying? A good student? How did a good student end up here?” I remained silent as he closed my book and forcefully pulled me up: “What’s there to study? Come on, let’s go out and have fun.” I had no room to resist and had to follow him out. At that moment, I wondered if he really couldn’t stand seeing others studying or if he just wanted me to struggle in the mud for the rest of my life. I couldn’t figure it out, and it didn’t matter; I would definitely secure that opportunity to study abroad and leave here. He took me to a billiards hall where a group of his friends were. When they saw me, their gazes were curious, but no one dared to say anything. I didn’t know how to play billiards, so I just watched. At the nearby table, a tall guy was playing poorly, swinging too hard and missing the shot. In frustration, he hit the ball too hard, and it flew out, hitting Ethan. Ethan picked up the ball, clenching it in his hand, tilting his head, and exhaled smoke, giving him a sideways glance: “You looking for trouble?” The guy didn’t seem to be a student from our school and didn’t know Ethan’s notorious reputation. He boldly challenged, “Don’t look at me like that! Who do you think you are?” I can only say that many times, the so-called bravado of men seems so childish, at least in my eyes. They exchanged punches, and I couldn’t tell who started it first, but they began to fight. I stepped back, keeping my distance; no one came looking for trouble with a woman. The billiards hall owner hurriedly called the police. They were at each other’s throats, determined to fight until one of them was seriously injured. Ethan wielded that billiard ball as his weapon; it was heavy, and he never shied away from causing harm, aiming for the head. But then the other guy pulled out a switchblade. It was small and fast, and they were too close to realize what was happening. But I watched from the sidelines with clarity. In that moment, my only thought was that this was my chance. I dashed forward and shoved Ethan aside, and the switchblade stabbed into my body, the blade embedding itself beneath my skin. It hurt—badly. The blood was warm, and no matter how hard I pressed, it wouldn’t stop. My vision blurred with the flowing blood, as if my soul were leaking out with it. Ethan picked me up and rushed me out of the billiards hall, taking me to the hospital. I had gambled too much this time. That stab could have killed me; if I had been even a moment later getting to the hospital, I would be dead. I survived, but I had to stay in the hospital. Ethan bought a ton of dishes from that small restaurant for me, but I had no appetite and couldn’t eat a thing. He stayed with me in the hospital, pacing around, lighting a cigarette but not daring to smoke. So I told him he didn’t need to stay; I was fine. He tossed the cigarette and sat back down, saying he’d wait until I fell asleep before leaving. I didn’t say anything, letting him do as he pleased. He fell silent for a while before suddenly calling my name: “Lia Parker.” “Hmm?” “Why?” “Why what?” “Don’t play dumb. Why did you take that knife for me? Can’t you see that guy was ready to kill?” I held back the pain and forced a smile: “Because I realized that’s why I had to block it.” “If you don’t want to laugh, then don’t. I know you don’t smile that much.” After he said this, he suddenly grabbed my chin, staring intently at me, before saying after a moment, “Are you really falling for me?” “Not at all.” I remembered he had said before not to say anything about loving him; he didn’t buy it, and if I did, I could prepare to leave. So, I chose to speak the truth: “If you died, no one would protect me, so I can’t let you die.” He stared at me for a long time before suddenly laughing, releasing my chin: “Alright, you say what goes.” He unconsciously reached for a cigarette but caught himself, realizing I was recovering, pulling his hand back awkwardly. I pointed to the window: “You can smoke there; that spot won’t trigger the fire alarm and won’t choke me.” He ran to the window as if granted mercy, and I had never seen him look so eager. He lit the cigarette and took a deep breath: “I have a lot of friends who do drugs, but I never touch them. You know why?” I shook my head. “Just trying to quit smoking is harder than dying. Quitting drugs must be even harder, right? I know it’s not good, so I just stay away from it.” He smoked while watching me, his gaze lingering longer than before. “I started smoking at thirteen, and I still can’t quit. You can see how I am now; no one ever cares, as long as I don’t die. I could make the biggest fuss, and it wouldn’t draw a bit of their attention.” I stayed silent. I felt he didn’t need me to talk; he just wanted to express himself. “No one cares about me, and no one loves me. What do they say? Home is the last refuge? There’s no one in my home! It’s abandoned! Might as well tear it down!” He spoke and laughed, laughing wildly. And it felt so desolate. “I don’t have any true friends; they all want my money, being my sycophants, either fearing me or flattering me. “I’ll tell you, back in high school, I liked a girl a lot and spent a ton of money on her without even sleeping with her. She said she loved me. Looking back, it was a total loss. “Later, I spent all my savings, pocket money, and New Year’s money, saving up for a set of six-figure jewelry to give her because she said she loved me. I thought if you love me, anything is worth it. But when I ran out of money, I couldn’t take her out to eat. So, I wanted to tease her and said my family went bankrupt and that I was broke. “She left me on read for a week and then broke up with me. “I gave that jewelry to her deskmate in front of her. I didn’t even know her deskmate, and I’ve forgotten what she looked like; I just remember she was a plump girl. Her face looked terrible; she must have regretted it so much, and I still find it hilarious to think about. “For a long time after that, I wondered, you see, my family doesn’t love me for money, and people outside only love me for my money. What the hell is money?” He went on and on about how his parents neglected him and how people he met outside sought benefits from him, spilling out years of pent-up dissatisfaction. In that moment, thinking back to his earlier question about whether I had fallen for him, I suddenly realized.
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