Bullied By My Alpha Twins

Fight

NADIA

Everyone feels the same thing!

Even though I knew how much every student feared them, I never thought the influence of Alex and Sandro had spread to the teachers and even the Dean, Mr. Sanders. The way they ruled the school was like a shadow cast over every student, leaving no room for light. That morning, desperate to escape their ceaseless bullying, I had finally mustered up the courage to visit Mr. Sanders' office. I wanted to tell him how uncomfortable the boys made me feel at school, especially since exams were next week. I didn't want to have to look over my shoulder while studying and worrying about when next they would come for me.

As I approached the Dean's office, I hesitated for a moment, my heart racing. The door was framed by a polished wooden arch, a symbol of authority that normally intimidated me. With a deep breath, I reached out and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.

I slowly opened the door, stepping into the office that was surprisingly spacious but dimly lit. The scent of polished wood and faintly burnt coffee lingered in the air. Mr. Sanders sat behind a large mahogany desk, his glasses perched low on his nose as he stared down at some papers. He looked up when I entered, and for the first time, I noticed his expression wasn’t as cold as I had always imagined.

“Nadia," he said, his tone shifting to something warmer than I expected. “You are the last person I would have guessed would show up at my office. Should I be scared?,” he asked, smiling.

“No, Mr. Sanders,” I said, returning the smile, even though there was really nothing in there.

“Please, take a seat.”

His welcoming demeanor surprised me. I complied and settled into the leather chair across from him. It was plush and comfortable, a stark contrast to the anxiety twisting in my stomach.

“I hope you’re not in trouble,” he continued, smiling slightly. The lines around his eyes softened, offering a hint of reassurance. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Mr. Sanders had always been known as someone unfriendly and distant, rarely associated with warmth or kindness. “Um, sure, that would be nice, Mr. Sanders, but I'm just fine without it,” I replied, my voice wavering slightly.

“I wish I could agree with you,” he said.

He stood up and moved to a small coffee machine in the corner of his office. As he prepared the drink, I watched him curiously. “You take cream and sugar, right?” he asked without looking back.

“Actually, just black is fine,” I answered, feeling a little flustered by his unexpected attention. He nodded and poured the fragrant coffee into a white mug, then returned to his desk, placing the cup in front of me.

“There you go,” he said, sitting back down.

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders,” I said.

“Surely, you didn't come here for a cup of hot coffee,” he said after some time.

I nodded.

“Now, I don’t bite, so feel free to speak freely.”

It felt comforting having Mr. Sanders treat me like a person rather than just another student. I took a sip of the hot coffee, savoring its warmth while conjuring the courage to explain why I was there. “Thank you,” I mumbled again, grateful for this small moment of kindness.

After a moment of silence, he gently prompted, “So, what brings you here today, Nadia?”

I took a deep breath, setting my mug down, as my heart ached with anxiety. “Well, um… it’s about Alex and Sandro.” The boys' names felt heavy on my tongue, like an unwanted weight. “They’ve been bullying me since I got to college,” I continued, my voice trembling. “It’s really affecting me. I feel scared to come to school, and I’m worried about my safety, especially with exams coming up. I just want to be able to focus on my studies without having to look over my shoulders.”

Mr. Sanders leaned back in his chair, eyebrows furrowing as I spoke. I watched him process my words, searching his expression for any spark of understanding or sympathy. When I finished explaining everything, he looked at me intently, his gaze searching mine as if weighing the gravity of what I had said.

“You can leave now,” he said suddenly after a pause, his expression suddenly serious. It felt like my words meant nothing to him.

“Why?” I asked, stunned. The finality in his voice felt almost like a slap, and my heart sank at the abrupt change in his demeanor.

“Because I can’t help you,” he bluntly replied, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

My mind raced, scrambling for a way to plead my case further. “But, sir, they’re making my life miserable. You’re the Dean. You have to do something!” I felt panic creeping through me, my voice almost rising in desperation.

“Listen, Nadia,” he said, holding up a hand to stop me. “No one ever challenges the boys, not even me. They are too dangerous for me to deal with.” His words were hard and final, as if he had dealt with this situation before and had given up any hope that change was possible.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” he added, his tone softer yet still resolute. It felt like a door was slammed shut, leaving me standing in the cold air outside. I felt lost and betrayed, standing there in disbelief.

I stood up, the weight of his words crushing me, and slowly walked away, my mind still reeling from the meeting. How could he just dismiss my fears like that? How could he give in to them, knowing how powerful they were? Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I blinked them back, refusing to show weakness.

As I left his office, the hallways seemed louder, more chaotic. I navigated my way through the throngs of students, feeling smaller and more invisible than I had before. My shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of disappointment settle heavily upon me.

I had thought that perhaps Mr. Sanders would listen—that he would protect me from Alex and Sandro. But now, I felt like I was floating adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with nowhere to turn. The laughter, the fear, the awful realization that no one seemed willing to stand against the boys who tormented me filled my heart with despair.

As I made my way to the school's basketball court for some practice later that evening, my mind was filled with thoughts of improving my game and shaking off the stress from the week. I loved basketball; it was my escape, my way of venting frustration. Today, however, the atmosphere shifted as I approached the court.

Suddenly, Lara, Sandro's girlfriend, appeared from seemingly nowhere, standing defiantly in my path. With her glossy blonde hair and perfectly manicured nails, she looked like she was ready to wage war. Right behind her, two other girls joined forces, a tag team of annoyance and spite. They formed a blockade, their arms crossed and expressions smug. I tried to use the other exit, hoping to find my way around them, but they had that one covered too.

I had never had any personal issue with Lara before, so I was baffled by her sudden aggression. “What’s going on?,” I muttered under my breath, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. As I stood there, scanning my surroundings for an escape, I felt the eyes of other students watching our showdown. My heart sank. This was exactly what I didn’t want—more drama on top of everything else.

“Why are you standing in my way, Lara?” I finally asked, attempting to keep my voice steady, though it came out shakier than I had hoped.

Instead of answering, Lara took a step closer. Her eyes flashed with anger, and before I could process what was happening, she landed a sharp slap across my cheek. The force of it stunned me; I touched my face, disbelief mixing with pain. I bent down slightly, holding my cheek as heat rushed to my face.

“That’s for stealing my money!” Lara shot back, her voice louder now, slicing through the air with venom. “I heard Sandro helped you pay your rent!”

My heart raced, confusion flooding my senses. “What are you talking about? I didn’t steal anything! I didn't ask your boyfriend to help me!” I protested, trying to defend myself. The accusation felt ridiculous, especially coming from her.

“I don't f*****g care if you asked for his help or not,” she hit back, looking fired up. “That money was meant for me, not you!” she yelled, her face flushed with fury. I could see her friends exchanging glances, framing the moment as if they were watching a game unfold.

Fury ignited within me, blurring my reasoning. I felt the anger in my chest swell, and before I could think it through, I reacted instinctively. I lifted my hand and slapped her back, the shock of my own action hitting me just as hard as it hit her.

Lara’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, the world around us froze. Her friends, seeing their leader momentarily taken aback, sprang into action. “Hey! What did you just do?” one of them screamed, lunging forward in an attempt to drag Lara back.

“Get off me!” I shouted, pushing them away as adrenaline surged through my veins. My heart pounded in my ears as I took a step back, feeling the heat radiate off me like a shield.

What have I just done!?