Hell & Back

Part One

Part One

Olivia's POV

16 years old

They are taunting me. I know they are, it's just what teenage boys do at this age. It's perfectly normal. It's also a routine at this point. I don't recall a single Friday afternoon I've left school without this group of boys being dicks to me.

The blond boy flicks the hat on my head just enough to disturb it and make me glare at him. The smile bursting onto his face as he moves out of arms reach and laughs obnoxiously along with his friends.

"Leave me alone, Peter." I grumble, readjusting my hat.

"Or what?" he taunts. I press my lips together to stop the retaliation from passing. I don't think he wants to know what I'd do if he keeps pushing me around.

His laughter dies down, arms folding across his chest in a challenging way. We've been done this path more times than I can count but I never engage with him. I think that's why he keeps doing it, because he has taken it as a challenge to get a reaction out of me.

Two years of this crap and I've never once engaged in retaliation, does he really think today is going to be any different? It just feels like any old Friday to me. Nothing special about it.

It's not that his taunts have been damaging to me at all, I couldn't care less what he thinks of me.

I'm more worried about the kind of reaction I might have if I do give in though. He doesn't understand who he is getting into this with. I am not normal. No one in my family is normal. If I chose to react and engage with him there's a high possibility Peter might not walk away from this interaction intact.

I tilt my head to the side as the unwanted images of his nose crunching under my fist swarms my vision. The blood that spurts from the impact makes my mouth water. It would be a blood bath and I'd have to restrain myself from enjoying it.

I force the images of his broken nose out of my head, but they are quickly replaced with images of breaking the bones in his hand. His oh so precious hand. Peter is the captain of the school's volleyball team, and he would be absolutely destroyed without his hands and precious sport.

I almost foam at the mouth as I can almost hear the crunch of the bones breaking in his hand. I wiggle my fingers, tapping the back of the textbook in my gripes.

"You going to bite? I think she'd have a mean bite boys." Peter taunts, laughter filling his features again. The two boys with him laugh in unison, muttering back up taunts. I push them out of my head, counting down the two more minutes until Peter will grow bored.

Despite his clear enjoyment from taunting me, thankfully it never lasts long enough. Usually, some other poor sod walks by which drags his attention away.

"Peter!" a familiar dark voice booms down the hallway.

Oh, great here he comes. I swear he knows when Peter is trying his shit with me. He tries to step in, discouraging Peter with his own taunts. It's usually just enough to drag Peter's attention off me and onto his rival, Dylan West.

Dylan is just like me; our family's have the same demon blood coursing through our veins. The very demon blood that gives me the unwanted edge. Unlike me though, Dylan has no problems using the benefits that come from having demon blood in our veins.

I've seen the countless times he's given into the same urges I resist. You think Peter would've backed off from taunting him by now, last summer Dylan actually broke his nose. The scene was awfully similar to the fantasy I was indulging in moments ago.