61 Black Strip
I never went back to that cursed house of Wayland's.
Lakesha tried to find out why I made such a sudden decision to quit, but I couldn’t—and wouldn’t—share the details.
It was all too painful to talk about… and, in some ways, too shameful.
Because deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder—did I really behave in such a way that the almighty Alpha thought he could just add me to the list of his obedient bedmates without even asking?
The thought made me want to scream.
It stung bitterly—realizing I’d once again fallen for a man who didn’t give a damn about me.
Several long days had passed since that night.
I hadn’t seen the Alpha again.
And though it was foolish, a small part of me still hoped…
That he’d come after me. That he’d say he was sorry—for everything. For the words. For the damn mark.
But really… what kind of apology could ever make up for a mark like that?
Is there even a way to say sorry after ruining someone’s future?
And who am I, anyway—for his majesty, the Alpha, to humble himself and apologize to someone like me?
He’s probably already forgotten.
But me? I can’t forget.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t erase any of it.
Every night, the memories return in my dreams.
Even from a distance, he haunts me.
There’s a hollow pit inside my chest—a screaming, aching emptiness I can’t fill.
Sometimes I want to rip my own hair out from the helplessness, the despair.
There’s this awful, all-consuming ache of unreturned love that claws at me every second of the day, every breath I take.
And because of the mark, it’s even worse—more intense, more destructive.
And it’s breaking me.
Winter break was over, and today marked the first day of the new school term.
The students arrived with a mix of grogginess and excitement—still clinging to the ease of the holidays, yet happy to see each other again. The more energetic ones were already throwing snow at their classmates before classes even started, probably making up for all the social interaction they missed during break.
A couple of bold upperclassmen even tried to playfully ambush me with snow, but we settled for a friendly snowball fight instead. And honestly, that small burst of laughter helped lift my spirits—if only a little—for the day ahead.
But the moment I stepped inside the school building, I felt it.
Something was off.
Teachers greeted me stiffly, almost too politely. Some students avoided my eyes altogether—whispering behind their hands and glancing my way when they thought I wasn’t looking.
A cold shiver crept down my spine. Something wasn’t right.
Then I saw Inessa. She looked flustered, eyes darting around the hallway, clearly searching for me. She rushed over, lips parting to say something in a hurry—but before a single word could leave her mouth…
Our school principal stepped out from behind her.
"Alyna Olegovna, to my office. Immediately," barked the principal, his tone sharp and commanding.
I had never seen Vladimir Nikitovich look so stern and tense before. Something was definitely wrong—and my instincts told me I wasn't going to like it. Without a word, I followed him into his office.
"Good morning, Vladimir Nikitovich... Has something happened?" I asked nervously, my voice barely steady.
"Oh, something has happened all right!" he snapped, glaring at me with a mix of anger and disappointment. With a frustrated sigh, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then held it out for me to take.
My hands trembled as I accepted the device—like he had handed me a venomous snake instead of a phone.
And the moment my eyes landed on the screen…
I froze in utter disbelief.
It was our school’s official website—where all academic achievements, student awards, teacher recognition, and school event updates were usually posted.
But what the principal showed me was nothing of the sort.
He had opened a public complaint submitted by a group of parents. The message accused me of incompetence, and worse—immoral behavior and an indecent personal life outside of school.
My pulse spiked as he tapped another link.
It led to a pornographic website.
And there... were photos of me—in incredibly compromising and obscene poses.
I stared at the screen, frozen in shock.
No words.
Just wide, horrified eyes.
I looked up at the principal, completely speechless.
“How do you explain this, Miss Alina?” the principal barked, his face a storm of confusion and outrage.
“That’s not even me!” I exclaimed, my voice breaking from a mixture of panic and disbelief. “I’ve never done anything like that—never participated in such photoshoots! This is clearly photoshopped! Just look at it—my body doesn’t even look like that, and I’ve never had that birthmark!”
“A prank? If only...” Vladimir Nikitovich sighed heavily and sat down behind his desk, rubbing his face with both hands.
“This appeared on the school’s website early this morning,” he muttered. “And the parents responded instantly. Our reputation is being torn to shreds as we speak. I’ve already contacted some programmer friends to remove the filth, but too many people have seen it. The damage is done, and now we have a public scandal.”