I sat there with my hands up, covered in paint, pieces of ripped canvas and wooden splinters. The random bully NPC was rampaging like a bull in a china shop, destroying the art pieces around us. I bet the other art students would have something to say about their work being trashed for no apparent reason, but I was too tired to protest at this point.

Due to my inaction, the art-hater turned his attention to me at last. Before I had the chance to react, I heard a loud clap and the world turned on its axis. The pain registered a few seconds later, when I was lying on the floor, head ringing from the strength of the slap to my cheek that probably gave me a concussion.

Fuck me. I knew this reel had some crazy, unhinged physics involved and the entire student body except for me was on steroids. But knowing and feeling it on the other end were two whole different beasts. I couldn’t feel the left side of my face and panicked for a hot minute that it had been permanently maimed somehow. I tried to twitch my fingers, and thank God they moved slightly as I heard muffled voices argue in the room around me.

It took me an eternity to get my eyesight focused again, as the chaos around me carried on regardless. The guy who slapped me was now embedded in the opposite wall, cracks from the impact spreading across it like a spiderweb. I dazedly hoped it wasn’t a load-bearing wall as I was unceremoniously yanked upright.

I flopped onto a hard-as-rock shoulder, wanting to vomit from all the damage to my poor head. I closed my eyes and levelled out my breathing. I hated vomiting as a principle. The horrible feeling in my stomach, the acidic burn of my oesophagus. I’d rather do anything than that. Steady breaths and top-tier concentration did not prevent me from hearing the disjointed grunt from the man who saved me.

“Why the hell are you letting other men touch you? I told you: No one touches what’s mine!”

Ok. Sure thing, stepbro. I was way too confused to fight the absurdity at that point.

He carried me, bridal-style, of course, from the room to uniform gasps of the student body who began gossiping loudly, spouting exposition with speed like they were at a cattle auction.

“Oh, my God! Is that Hunter Voss, the heir to the Voss group and the hottest guy in school! The star quarterback! Why is he carrying the school loser, Liam!”

“Haven’t you heard? He and Hunter won the football championship last night, so he is probably doing it as a return favour.”

“I heard their parents got married and now they are step-brothers!”

“What? A nobody like Liam being related to the Voss family!? Hunter must be doing this to save the family reputation. There is no way he would care about a loser like Liam.”

I could feel those monster hands grip me tighter as a response to the gaggle of onlookers’ nonsense, and the scraping of concrete that I realised was Hunter grinding his teeth. Having had enough bodily harm done to myself in one day, I weakly struggled in his grip.

“I’m fine now. Let me go.”

“Shut up.” He gritted out and kicked the front door to the school open. Judging by the warped wood in his wake, I wept at the property damage. Voss Group must spend millions a year cleaning up after their mini hulk.

“Where are we going?” I asked on autopilot, the strange nudge in my throat prompting me as script required. No point in resisting at this moment.

“Hospital.”

The only sensible fucking thing that had happened to me all day. I felt my consciousness drift, and everything went dark.