Rejected and Claimed by her Alpha Triplets-Chapter 43 - their smell

43

~Lisa’s POV

I didn’t even know I was bleeding at first.

It wasn’t much. Just a faint, thin line running down my inner thigh, hidden beneath the shredded bottom of my dress. The kind of wound that didn’t scream but whispered with every step I took. A quiet, wet sting. Not loud, not visible, but I felt it. I felt all of it.

My legs were heavy. My heart was even heavier.

Each footstep echoed like thunder in my ears. The hallway stretched before me, too long, too bright, too open. I wanted to melt into the floor, disappear into the cracks, vanish before anyone else could see me like this. But my feet kept moving on their own.

One step. Then another.

I walked slowly, not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t do anything else. My body was too sore. My skin ached, inside and out. It felt like I was walking through thick mud, dragging my shame behind me like a heavy, invisible chain.

My hands trembled at my sides. I couldn’t bring myself to wipe my face. I knew I was crying. I just didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t want to feel myself.

I didn’t want to be me.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I moved down the hall, but everything was blurry. The walls bent in strange shapes. The windows hurt my eyes. My throat was tight, and my chest, my chest felt like it had been carved open and left hollow.

I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or collapse.

I didn’t know if I wanted to cry louder or just disappear.

But I knew this: I couldn’t stay here much longer.

Everything in me felt... wrong.

Used.

Ruined.

And worst of all, empty.

My ears rang. The hallway spun slightly. I gripped the wall to steady myself, leaning into it for support, feeling the cold stone against my skin. Even that small pressure made me wince. My muscles were sore. My knees wobbled beneath me like they might give out at any moment.

I closed my eyes for a second and took a shaky breath.

Just get to your room.

That was all I told myself. Just a few more steps. Then I could be alone. Then I could fall apart in silence, without anyone watching. Without anyone laughing. Without anyone calling me weak.

Then I heard footsteps.

Fast. Angry.

And before I could turn away, Belinda stepped right into my path.

Her face twisted the moment she saw me.

Her eyes scanned me up and down, my messy hair, my ripped dress, the quiet, broken way I was walking. And then she saw the blood.

Her face darkened with jealousy.

"What the hell?" she hissed. "Why are you coming from their room looking like this?"

I froze.

My lips trembled, and the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"I...I was just... I was molested," I whispered, the tears coming again, soaking my cheeks. "By the triplets."

There was a moment of silence.

But not the kind that came before comfort.

No.

It was the cold kind. The dangerous kind.

Belinda’s face changed. For a second, I saw something sharp flash in her eyes, like fury. But it wasn’t at them.

It was at me.

"You..." she started, her voice shaking with rage. "You little witch."

She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face.

I staggered back, my hand flying to my cheek, shocked, hurt, and too weak to even cry out.

"You think you can seduce them now?!" she spat. "Throw yourself at them and cry molestation like it makes you innocent?"

I shook my head quickly, crying. "I didn’t...I didn’t want it..."

"Get away from me!" she screamed, her voice like a whip. "I don’t care what they did to you. Just stay away! You think you’re special now because they touched you?!"

I stumbled back again, my body trembling. She pushed past me roughly, leaving me in the middle of the corridor, eyes wide, heart breaking all over again.

I felt dirtier than ever.

I walked back to my room like a ghost.

The halls were too bright, the air too thick. I didn’t say a word to anyone. I kept my head down, eyes on my feet, hands shaking at my sides. Every step burned, not just from the pain inside me, but from the shame. From disgust.

When I reached my room, I closed the door quietly.

I didn’t lock it.

What was the point?

I stood in the center of the room for a long time, just breathing.

Then I moved toward the small corner where a bucket of water and a towel waited, the only thing I had to bathe with.

My fingers fumbled with the torn fabric of my dress. It slid off slowly, clinging to my skin where the blood had dried. I winced, biting back a sound as I peeled it away.

I stood there in nothing.

Naked.

Broken.

And then, I turned and looked at myself in the mirror.

The mirror was cracked, just like me. One long line ran down the middle, splitting my reflection in half.

What I saw didn’t look like me.

My hair was messy, clinging to my cheeks. My lips were dry and swollen. My eyes... they didn’t even look alive. Just tired. Bruised. Empty.

I lifted a hand and touched my face, where Belinda had slapped me.

Then my fingers dropped lower, over the bandage still wrapped around my arm, then to the marks they left on the rest of me, the bruises, the dirt, the blood.

I didn’t look like a person anymore.

I looked like something used and discarded.

And thrown away.

I knelt slowly by the water, dipping the towel in. The water was cold, so cold it made me shiver. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel clean.

I scrubbed my arms. My legs. My shoulders. My stomach.

I scrubbed everywhere.

Even when my skin turned red.

Even when it hurts.

I wanted to wash it all away. Their hands. Their voices. Their smell. Everything.

But it wouldn’t leave.

I rubbed harder, my hands trembling, tears dripping from my chin into the water.

No matter how much I scrubbed, I still felt dirty.

I still felt theirs.

I dropped the towel and hugged my knees, curling up on the floor beside the bucket. I didn’t even bother to dry myself. I just sat there, wet, cold, and shaking.

"I hate you," I whispered, not to anyone else.

To myself.