I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to piece things together.
I remember the bar. The music. The man who smelled like alcohol and something sweet.
I remember asking him to take my virginity.
The memory makes my stomach twist.
I remember the drink he handed me. I remember how warm his hand felt when he pulled me through the crowd. I remember walking…stumbling…laughing.
And then…nothing.
There’s a blank space where the rest of the night should be. No sounds. No images. Just darkness.
My throat tightens as the truth presses in.
Something happened to me.
I wrap my arms around myself, curling inward, trying to make sense of the pain, the soreness, the marks on my skin that don’t belong there. My body feels used. Violated. Like it isn’t mine anymore.
Tears spill down my temples as panic creeps up my spine.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here. And I don’t know how much of this I agreed to…if any of it at all.
The room feels too small. The air too thick.
All I know is that I’m awake in a strange place, broken open in ways I don’t understand, and whatever happened here is something I can’t remember…but my body remembers everything.
I look around for my clothes, panic tightening my chest, but there’s nothing. No dress. No shoes. No underwear. Not even my bag.
Why would he take my stuff?
The question makes my stomach roll as I race to lock the unlocked door.
There’s a phone on the table. Old. Scratched. Probably the motel’s. My hands shake as I pick it up. I stare at the keypad, my vision blurring.
I only know three numbers by heart.
One of them would bring sirens. Questions. Strangers touching me when I already feel like my skin doesn’t belong to me anymore.
My thumb hovers.
I can’t do that yet.
The other two would bring the Shadows. My brother, the President…or his VP!
I dial the number to the one person who has always made me feel safe, even when he didn’t want me…even when he pushed me away.
It rings once.
Twice.
I’m already crying when he answers.
“Tank,” I whisper, my voice barely there.
“Thank fuck,” he exhales. “Abigail, I’ve been looking for you since last night. Where the fuck are you?”
“I…I don’t know,” I choke out. “It’s a motel, I think. I don’t recognize anything. I woke up and… I’m hurt. I can’t find my clothes. There’s blood all over me.”
