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“Let me take you where I want, then I’ll go away.” He licks my cheek. Holy shit. This is fucking dangerous. I’m in an actual dangerous situation, and I let it happen because I didn’t think it was anything. Why didn’t I tell someone he was harassing me or wouldn’t leave my doorway last night? Stupid me didn’t want to make waves, as my father would call them. I didn’t want to bother anyone. I kept thinking, It’s all in your mind. He’s not really risky. Don’t overreact. You’ll only cause problems for everyone. Don’t be a drama queen.

I’ve been conditioned not to be rude. That’s bullshit and now I’m too late with this epiphany. I should have trusted myself the moment I was creeped out. I should’ve screamed it from the rooftops.

“NO.” I twist my arm away from his, but his grip intensifies as he pulls me towards a door. I don’t know where it leads. I see a security guard.

“Help! Aider!” I yell. “Ce n’est pas quelqu’un de sympathique.”

Thumper squeezes hard and laughs. He responds to the security guard who’s moving towards us. I keep yelling in French that he’s not a friendly person.

“Non. Ma copine est confuse. Nous nous sommes disputés et je veux m’excuser.” He nods. He believed Thumper, not me. He said we’re a couple and had a fight. This is happening. He’s practically dragging me now.

“You’re going to rape me?” Well, I’m making waves now. Wow, I just said that. I pull my arm, but it won’t budge from his grip.

“If you like it, it’s not rape.”

Holy shit.

I’m braver in the face of being a victim. “Pretty sure I won’t like it. And if I say no, it’s rape.” I spit at him and he grins. “Rumor has it you fuck like a hamster.”

“Bitch.” He keeps moving, dragging me, and I look away.

Before I even have good sex, I’m getting raped. I’m not processing things correctly.

Suddenly I’m free and I hear a sickening thud and the crack of a nose breaking. My arm is splashed with blood. I almost fall to the floor, but someone catches me before I can collapse completely. I look into the face of the one who said he’d always take care of me.

He scoops me up and places me on a bench. Then Danny levels him to the ground with another swift but powerful punch. The guard who disregarded me is white as a sheet.

Madame Jeanea finds us and screams for more security. “Are you ok? Are you ok? HELP! Anyone. Come quickly. Help! Take him!” I want to sink into the floor. I want this to be about someone and something else.

“Piece of shit,” Danny spits out as Thumper curls up into a ball surrounded by guards. She digs her hands into Thumper’s arm and he tries to get away as the guard who believed him roughly grabs him.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Mmm Fox? Are you hurt?”

“My arm hurts a little but I’m fine. He just scared me.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “We need a statement, when you’re ready.” She wraps me in a blanket that security handed her. Then she points to Thumper. “I want him out of here. You’re expelled!”

She turns to Danny. “And you. Consider this your reprimand for fighting.” She winks at him. “Take your time. Take care of her.”

She pulls me to her and I stiffen up. Security is holding people away from me but everyone is staring.

Thumper is ranting about what his father will do. His nose is gushing and he keeps pointing at me. I shiver with all the scary what-ifs running through my head. And Madame Jeanae walks off to deal with it all.

There are too many people around. I panic. I try leaving and he puts his hand on my arm.

“Are you ok?”

I don’t know how to answer, so I break apart in front of people. I’m crying about Thumper, missing him, and that I might flunk Art History. He shelters me and pulls me out of the fray. He’s shielding me and I sob for minutes on end. It all flows through me and onto my cheeks.

And then I look into his blue-grey eyes and say, “Hi.” I don’t know what to say.

He’s concerned and shakes me a gently. “I need you to answer me. Are you hurt?” I shake my head. “Can I hold you?”

I blubber out, “For as long as you want.”

Then I’m in his arms. He buries his face in my neck and hair. And I sob. He keeps comforting me and leads me out of the room into a stunning white marble stairwell. It’s peaceful. People, paramedics, and teachers keep coming up to us, and he shields them from interfering with my breakdown.

He leans over me and I whisper in between sobs, “I didn’t know how to get back to you. I didn’t know how to talk to you and tell you I’m sorry. I was stupid and overreacted. I didn’t know how to reach out.”