And for the first time that night, I let the tears fall.
Not from the pain.
Not even from fear.
But because I know that no matter what happens next, something inside me will never come back.
They take turns using my mouth to pleasure themselves, and I barely register who does what anymore.
Even Josh, who looked like he might back out, stays in the room. He hesitates at first, like everything about what is happening disgusts him— but in the end, he does it too. And from the way he groans and grabs my hair, it looks like he enjoyed it much more than the others.
The tears don’t stop. But I never beg. Not once.
What’s the point?
My mouth tastes bitter. My jaw aches. My throat burns. My knees tremble beneath me, weak and raw.
At some point, I collapse, unable to hold myself up
But they pull me up right again.
And again.
And again.
They laugh. Pour liquor on my face like it’s a joke. Smack me when I gag or flinch. Call me the most degrading names.
Time blurs, and I don’t know how long it goes on.
All I know is I’m still breathing.
Somehow.
“Not so bold now, huh?” Tim sneers, crouching close. His breath is hot against my cheek. “Open your mouth for me, Lucas. I’m sure you can still take me again.”
I shake my head — barely. It feels like lifting a mountain, A weak sob slips out before I can stop it. I can’t. Please, I can’t.
But my voice doesn’t work. It’s like my throat is collapsing on itself, like there’s something lodged in my chest, choking me from the inside. The air won’t come in. My vision swims, a dull blur of dim light and shifting shadows. My body is heavy. Numb. Like it’s not mine anymore.
“I think he’s about to pass out,” Josh says somewhere near the wall. His voice wavers, unsure. Like he’s only just now realizing what they’ve done.
“Oh, shut the hell up, Josh,” Nate snaps. “Stop talking like you didn’t enjoy it the most.”
Laughter erupts—loud and ragged. It slices through my skull. Raw. Cruel. Like dogs barking over something half-dead.
“Shit, my dad just texted,” Caleb mutters. “I need to go.”
“We’re out of alcohol,” Nate says flatly, as if that’s more urgent. “We need more.”
“Guys, I really need to go,” Caleb says again, more desperate this time.
“Yeah, no shit, Caleb. The door’s right there,” Tim snaps. “We’re not done with this Boytoy yet. Go ahead and leave. Nobody’s stopping you.”
“Since you’ve got the car, drop me off at Lily’s,” Nate adds casually. “She’s the only one who sells tequila to us.”
Their voices smear together in my head, melting into one muffled noise. I can’t follow them anymore. I don’t want to.
I just want it to stop.
