He Got Me Home Safe

Growing up, I didn’t have much freedom. My family was extremely conservative. The kind of parents who watched every passing car through the living room curtains like danger itself was circling the block waiting for me. They worried constantly that I’d get kidnapped, trafficked, murdered anything horrible you could imagine.

I wasn’t allowed out past eight o’clock while my friends stayed out until eleven, laughing under neon gas station lights and stumbling through football games wrapped in hoodies and cheap perfume. No revealing clothes. No crop tops. No shorts too short. Hell, showing shoulders alone was enough to start an argument in my house.

Everything felt restricted. Controlled. Suffocating.

But that never stopped me.

You know the saying: strict parents make sneaky kids. In my case, it was absolutely true. I’d climb out my bedroom window after midnight with my shoes in my hand so the floorboards wouldn’t creak. I’d bring extra clothes to school stuffed into my backpack and change in the girls bathroom before meeting my friends. I smoked occasionally behind convenience stores and empty baseball fields, then drowned myself in enough vanilla body spray to choke a horse trying to hide the skunk smell before going home.

Honestly, I think my parents knew.

I think they just didn’t know what to do with me anymore.

I was a party girl. I loved loud music and crowded rooms and the dizzy feeling of freedom that came with losing yourself in flashing lights and drunken laughter. I loved feeling wanted. Seen. Alive.

So the second I graduated, I got as far away from my tiny hometown in Arkansas as I possibly could.

I packed two suitcases, shoved everything else into garbage bags, and moved across state lines to attend Westbridge State in North Carolina.

The town surrounding campus felt electric compared to where I came from. Brick streets glowing under amber streetlights. Music pouring from bars every night of the week. Rooftop parties. Frat houses packed shoulder to shoulder with sweat and cheap liquor. Drunk college girls running barefoot down sidewalks at two in the morning holding their heels in one hand and pizza in the other.

God, it was perfect.

My weeks became routine. Classes Monday through Thursday. Then Thursday night through Saturday night was for partying, dancing, drinking, and making memories blurry enough to laugh about later.

But by junior year, I started calming down a little.

Not completely. I still loved a good party. Still loved getting dressed up and feeling pretty beneath flashing lights. But somewhere along the way, hookups started feeling emptier than they used to.

I got tired of boys pulling me into bed only to practically shove me out afterward.

“Sorry Jen, I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

Right.

Asshole.

You got what you wanted.

Don’t get me wrong, I understood it. We were young. Stupid. Most people in college weren’t looking for soulmates. But understanding something doesn’t stop it from hurting.

There’s only so many times you can stare at yourself in a stranger’s bathroom mirror at three in the morning, fixing your makeup before ordering an Uber home, before you start wondering if maybe you’re searching for something deeper and just pretending you’re not.

So eventually, against my better judgment, I downloaded dating apps.

Which honestly felt embarrassing at first. I used to swear those apps were only for hookups and weirdos holding dead fish in profile pictures. But after enough lonely nights and disappointing situationships, it started sounding less pathetic and more practical.

Besides, maybe someone else out there was tired too.

Tired of games.
Tired of meaningless sex.
Tired of pretending they didn’t want something real.

Most of the profiles were exactly what you’d expect. Shirtless mirror selfies. Frat boys asking girls to “ruin their lives.” Guys clearly looking for a drunk one-night stand.

So I kept scrolling.
And scrolling.
And scrolling.

Until I matched with him.

His profile felt different immediately. No forced gym photos. No fake tough-guy act. Just an easy smile and soft eyes that looked almost familiar somehow. Safe.

His bio read:

“Sick of hookup culture. Just want someone to adventure with and love spending time with.”

Jesus.

It was painfully corny.

But lying in bed with my phone glowing against the darkness of my dorm room, I still caught myself smiling.

“Fuck it,” I whispered to myself. “What do I have to lose?”

So that following Friday night, I met him.

The bar he picked was off-campus, tucked between a boutique hotel and some rooftop cocktail lounge downtown. Honestly, it surprised me. It wasn’t one of those grimy college bars where the floors always felt sticky and the bathrooms smelled like old beer and regret. No overflowing toilets. No cracked neon beer signs buzzing loud enough to give you a headache. No random junk nailed to the walls like the last fifty years had thrown up all over the place.

This place was different.

Dim amber lighting glowed across dark wooden tables while soft indie music hummed through hidden speakers overhead. Shelves lined with expensive liquor stretched behind the bar like stained-glass windows. Girls in sleek black dresses laughed over martinis while guys in button-ups leaned casually against marble countertops pretending not to check them out.

Classy. Trendy. Young.

I was impressed.

And then I saw him.

Gregory stood near the bar scrolling through his phone before glancing up and spotting me instantly. The second he smiled, my stomach flipped. It was warm. Effortless. The kind of smile that made you feel chosen somehow. His blue eyes caught the low light in a way that almost didn’t feel real.

And God, he was handsome.

Tall. Slim shoulders under a fitted black button-up. Lean muscle without looking like one of those gym obsessed guys who made protein shakes their entire personality. Dark hair slightly messy like he’d fixed it quickly in the mirror before leaving.

Honestly? He was exactly my type.

He stepped forward and opened his arms slightly.

“Jen?”

“That obvious?” I laughed nervously.

“You’re prettier than your pictures.”

Smooth.

Dangerously smooth.

I felt heat creep into my cheeks immediately.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said. “I’m Gregory.”

“You too… although I kinda already knew that.” I teased, batting my eyelashes a little.

He laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

From there, conversation just… flowed.

It didn’t feel forced the way first dates usually did. There weren’t awkward pauses or rehearsed questions or that painful feeling of trying to impress someone. He genuinely listened when I spoke. Like really listened.

He asked about my family.
Where I grew up.
What made me move so far away.
What music I liked.
What I wanted to do after college.

Not surface-level bullshit either.

Not:

“So what’s your major?”

Or:

“Damn, you’re hot.”

Or the classic:

“You come here often?”

No.

He looked at me like every answer mattered. Like he wanted to memorize me.

And honestly? That caught me completely off guard.

Most college guys looked at girls like temporary entertainment. But Gregory made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt before. Important. Interesting. Beautiful beyond just my body.

At some point, I stopped even paying attention to how much I was drinking.

One cocktail became two.
Then three.

Every time my glass emptied, another appeared effortlessly between stories and laughter. I barely noticed it happening. I was too distracted by the way he looked at me when I talked. Too wrapped up in his voice.

I felt light. Floaty almost.

Like I was suspended in warm water.

Then suddenly it all hit me at once.

One second I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. The next, the room tilted violently sideways.

The music sounded farther away.

The amber lights above the bar smeared together into glowing streaks. My heartbeat thudded unevenly inside my chest as nausea curled through my stomach.

I grabbed the edge of the counter hard enough for my knuckles to pale.

“You alright?” Gregory asked immediately.

His voice sounded distant now. Muffled.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Think I just drank a little too much.”

I pressed my fingers against my temple and forced a laugh.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom really quick. Splash some water on my face.”

“You want me to help you?” he asked softly.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I can manage.”

At least I thought I could.

The walk to the bathroom felt strangely long. My heels clicked unevenly against the floor while the hallway lights stretched overhead in dizzying blurs. My stomach twisted hard once I reached the sink, and for a horrible second I thought I was going to throw up.

But I didn’t.

I leaned over the counter gripping porcelain while cold water ran over my wrists.

My reflection looked wrong somehow.

Pale.

Eyes glossy and unfocused.

Maybe I just drank too fast, I told myself.

That had to be it.

I splashed water across my face, fixed my lipstick with shaky fingers, and took a deep breath before heading back out.

Gregory looked up instantly when he saw me approaching. Concern softened his expression. Real concern.

“You still don’t look great,” he said gently.

“I’m okay,” I insisted, though even I could hear how slurred my voice sounded now.

He pulled my chair out for me as I sat back down.

“Here,” he said, sliding a glass toward me. “Drink this. Water will help.”

“Thank you.”

I took several large gulps without thinking.

The cold water hit my stomach like lead.

“I already called you an Uber,” he added casually. “It should be here any minute.”

“Oh…you didn’t have to do that…”

“It’s alright,” he said, cutting me off with a reassuring smile. “I just wanna make sure you get home safe.”

Something about the way he said safe lingered strangely in my head.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he continued warmly. “How else are we supposed to continue these amazing conversations?”

I laughed quietly despite myself, hiding my smile behind the glass.

“Stop,” I muttered.

He grinned.

When the rideshare notification buzzed on his phone, he stood and gently wrapped an arm around my waist. The warmth of his hand grounded me slightly as he helped guide me toward the exit.

The cold night air hit my face immediately outside. Downtown lights shimmered across rain-damp streets while music echoed faintly from nearby bars. Everything looked soft around the edges now. Dreamlike.

“You have someone that can help you inside?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I slurred. “My roommate Lisa’s at a party but… I can call her.”

“Good.” He smiled again. “Just wanna know you’re safe.”

A black SUV pulled up near the curb.

I vaguely remember thinking it looked nicer than most Ubers around campus.

Gregory opened the passenger-side back door and carefully helped me inside.

“Okay,” he said softly. “You get home safe now.”

Then he leaned in and kissed me.

It caught me completely off guard.

His lips were warm and soft and for a split second fireworks exploded through my chest despite the haze swallowing my thoughts. I felt myself blush hard as he pulled away smiling.

Then he shut the door.

As the car slowly pulled away from the curb, I looked back through the tinted window.

Gregory was still standing there.

But something about him looked… different now.

The warmth was gone from his face.

His posture had stiffened completely.

No smile.

Just watching.

A strange feeling twisted in my stomach.

I fumbled clumsily for my phone to text Lisa.

Then suddenly the driver’s voice exploded through the silence.

“Have a good night?!”

I jumped violently.

The sudden noise felt wrong in the quiet car. Too loud. Too sharp.

“Y-Yeah,” I muttered weakly.

As I tried unlocking my phone, it slipped from my fingers and disappeared beneath the passenger seat.

“Shit…”

I bent down slightly trying to reach for it.

That’s when I noticed the child lock symbol glowing faintly on the door beside me.

My stomach dropped.

Then everything started fading.

The city lights outside blurred together into streaks of white and red. My limbs felt impossibly heavy now. My heartbeat slowed.

I blinked once.

Twice.

And then—

Black.

I jolted awake with a sharp inhale, my head throbbing so violently it felt like my skull had split somewhere behind my eyes.

Everything around me blurred and warped together strangely. The darkness bent at the edges of my vision like I was staring through wet glass.

A bed.

I felt a bed underneath me. Soft sheets tangled around my legs.

Relief flooded through my chest.

Oh thank God.
My dorm.

I let out a shaky breath and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady the nausea rolling through me.

But something felt… wrong.

The room was too cold.

My dorm always hummed softly with the sound of Lisa’s little desk fan and distant music from neighboring rooms. But this place was silent except for an occasional dripping noise somewhere in the dark. Slow. Rhythmic.

Drip.

Drip.

And underneath it—

Metal scraping against metal.

A harsh dragging sound that echoed somewhere far away yet impossibly close at the same time.

My stomach twisted uneasily.

I opened my eyes again.

The ceiling above me looked wrong somehow. Too tall. Shadows crawled across it unnaturally like black water shifting beneath the surface of glass.

“Where the hell…”

My own voice came out weak and distant. Like it belonged to someone else.

Then suddenly

BAM.

Pain exploded across the side of my head.

White light burst behind my eyes like fireworks as the entire room tilted violently sideways. A sharp ringing filled my ears. I curled instinctively into myself with a cry, clutching my head while the world pulsed around me in nauseating waves.

And then I saw it.

Something standing near the foot of the bed.

Tall. Twisted.

Its limbs bent strangely like they had too many joints. Skin slick and glistening like wet plastic stretched too tightly over bone. Its face… God, its face looked melted together wrong, features shifting every time I tried focusing on them.

Like my mind refused to understand what it was seeing.

The thing leaned closer.

I smelled something sour and metallic underneath the sweetness of cologne.

Then a voice rumbled through the darkness. Low. Distorted.

“Hold her down.”

Not words exactly.

More like the sound itself forced meaning directly into my head.

Suddenly hands grabbed me.

Slimy. Sticky.

Too many of them.

I thrashed violently against the mattress, panic flooding through me so hard my chest burned. I kicked and twisted and tried to scream

But no sound came out.

Nothing.

My mouth opened wide in terror while silence swallowed me whole. It felt like my throat had been stitched shut from the inside.

The creatures pinned my arms above my head as the room breathed around me. The walls stretched farther away before snapping suddenly close again. Shadows pulsed wetly in the corners.

I couldn’t wake up.

Why couldn’t I wake up?

I fought harder.

Then another sharp burst of pain cracked across my face.

The world flickered.

For half a second the nightmare tore open.

A flash

Harsh fluorescent lights overhead.

A rough mattress beneath me.

Someone saying:

“She’s waking up.”

Then darkness swallowed it again instantly.

The monster hovered over me once more.

I whimpered softly as tears streamed hot down my cheeks. My body started going limp beneath them. Not because I stopped fighting.

Because I was suddenly so unbearably tired.

More flashes came after that. Quick. Broken.

A ceiling fan turning slowly.
A door slamming somewhere far away.
Cold water splashing against my skin.
The sensation of being dragged.
A male voice laughing softly near my ear.

Reality kept bleeding into the nightmare for only seconds at a time before sinking beneath it again.

Like my brain was desperately trying to pull me awake…

…and something else was trying to keep me asleep.

Then I heard a voice. 

It sounded familiar. 

It was my mothers I could hear he echoing in the distance. I listened closer.

“Mom?”

I saw her said something distorted.

“What? What are you saying”

Then her mouth hung open unnatural like someone pressed pause of a movie. Only a voice came out her mouth didnt move.

“I told you this would happen”

“What are you talking about” I said frantic

“I TOLD YOU YOUR ACTIONS WOULD LEAD TO THIS” She yelled but no longer her voice. 

She melted like wax in front of me. The puddle spilled toward me feet. I dropped to me knees in fear. 

My throat tightened. To tight, i couldnt breath. I began to float in mid air my feet raised i gasped for hair. Then in an instant my body flung through the air and I fell. Fell for miles or what feli like miles. Like the dreams where youre falling through the sky to end by waking up in bed. Not me i hit the ground hard. The room melted away. It was dimly lit i was crumbled in a shallow puddle in a circle. All around was darkness. The ripples of water around me. Then from the darkness came a blurry figure. It grabbed me and held me down. The weight was to heavy and i couldnt move. My legs spread my arms felt tied above me head i couldnr move. My body screamed in pain my back ached, shoulders pin needles, chest tight. What was happening to me. All i could do was cry. 

“Wake up Jen”

A voice rang in my ears 

“Jen WAKE UP”

My eyes opened and saw standing by my side. My brother. He looked sad. 

“Dont let this happen fight get up fight”

Then like dust in a breeze he was gone. 

Then I heard a voice.

Soft at first. Distant.

Like someone speaking through water.

It sounded familiar enough to make my chest ache.

My mother.

“Mom?”

The darkness around me trembled as her figure slowly emerged from it. She stood several feet away wearing the same pale blue church dress she used to wear every Sunday back home in Arkansas. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her the way they always were when she was disappointed in me.

But something about her looked… wrong.

Her face kept flickering in and out of focus like an old videotape struggling to play correctly.

Her mouth moved slightly.

The words came out warped and stretched.

“What?” I whispered desperately. “What are you saying?”

She tilted her head slowly.

Then everything froze.

Her body stopped moving completely, like someone had paused reality itself.

Only her voice remained.

“I told you this would happen.”

The words echoed unnaturally through the darkness.

“What are you talking about?” I cried, panic rising in my chest. “Mom?”

Suddenly her jaw unhinged wider than humanly possible.

“I TOLD YOU YOUR ACTIONS WOULD LEAD TO THIS.”

But it wasn’t her voice anymore.

It was deeper now. Wet. Rotting. Like multiple voices speaking through her all at once.

I stumbled backward in horror.

Then her skin began melting.

Slowly at first.

Like candle wax left too close to a flame.

Her face sagged downward in thick dripping folds while her eyes slid from their sockets soundlessly. Flesh peeled from bone and collapsed into a dark puddle spreading rapidly across the floor toward my feet.

I dropped to my knees gasping.

My throat tightened suddenly.

Too tight.

I clawed at my neck desperately trying to breathe as invisible pressure wrapped around my throat like giant hands squeezing harder and harder.

Then my body lifted from the ground.

My feet dangled helplessly in the darkness.

I opened my mouth choking for air while tears blurred my vision.

And then

I was thrown.

The world vanished beneath me instantly as I hurtled through endless darkness.

Falling.

Falling forever.

Like those dreams where you jolt awake before hitting the ground

Except this time I didn’t wake up.

I hit hard.

Pain exploded through my body as cold water splashed around me.

The nightmare shifted again.

The room dissolved into shadows until only dim gray light remained. I found myself crumpled in a shallow puddle, knees tucked weakly beneath me while ripples spread outward into complete darkness.

There were no walls.
No ceiling.
No end to it.

Just blackness swallowing everything beyond the water around me.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Then something moved inside the dark.

A blurry figure emerged slowly toward me, its shape constantly shifting like smoke trying to become human. The closer it got, the heavier the air became.

I tried crawling backward but my body wouldn’t cooperate.

The figure grabbed me suddenly.

Its weight crushed down onto me so hard I could barely breathe.

I screamed silently as my back slammed against the wet floor beneath me. My arms jerked upward painfully like invisible ropes had tied them above my head. My legs spread against my will while pressure forced itself against me, pinning me completely still.

Pain radiated through my shoulders.
My lower back burned.
Pins and needles shot through my arms.
My chest tightened so hard I thought my ribs would crack open.

What was happening to me?

Why couldn’t I wake up?

Hot tears streamed sideways across my cheeks into the puddle beneath my head. All I could do was lay there and cry while the darkness pressed heavier and heavier against my body.

Then suddenly

“Wake up, Jen.”

The voice cut clean through the nightmare.

Sharp. Real.

“Jen, WAKE UP.”

My eyes snapped open.

Standing beside me was my brother.

Not distorted.
Not melting.
Just him.

His face looked pale and terrified as he reached toward me. His eyes shimmered with tears.

“Don’t let this happen,” he said desperately. “Fight. Get up. Fight.”

I reached for him.

But before my fingers could touch his hand, his body crumbled apart like dust caught in a breeze.

And he was gone.

Heat spread across my skin next.

Not warmth.

Burning.

The blurry figure towering over me shifted again inside the nightmare, its skin glowing deep red beneath cracking black flesh like something that had crawled straight out of a volcano. Every movement made pieces of it split apart, exposing molten orange light beneath.

And God, the burning.

It felt like hot coals were being pressed into my skin one by one. Liquid poured across my body in waves that felt like lava melting me alive. Tiny thorn-like claws scraped against my thighs and stomach, leaving trails of fire behind them.

I screamed soundlessly.

The creature grabbed my head suddenly and forced it downward beneath scorching liquid.

I choked violently.

My lungs seized as fluid flooded my mouth and nose. I coughed and spat desperately while my body thrashed weakly beneath invisible weight.

“Please…” I cried hoarsely. “Please stop…”

Every word was answered with pain.

A strike.
A shove.
Pressure crushing down harder.

I had to fight.

I had to survive.

Something inside me knew that now.

This wasn’t just a nightmare anymore.

The world flickered again.

The burning molten liquid suddenly became freezing cold for half a second.

Reality bled through.

White tile.
Fluorescent lighting.
A bathtub.

Then darkness swallowed me again.

No.

No no no.

My eyes snapped open wider this time.

The monsters were gone.

The room no longer breathed around me. The scraping sounds had stopped completely, leaving only silence and the faint dripping of water somewhere nearby.

I was lying sprawled across cold wet tile.

Not stone.
Not hell.
A bathroom floor.

My heart lurched painfully inside my chest as my mind finally began clawing its way upward through the haze.

The bathroom door sat slightly cracked open. Beyond it I could make out part of a dim hotel room lit by the orange glow of city lights bleeding through curtains. A figure stood near the balcony with his back facing me, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.

Human.

Not a monster.

A man.

My body trembled violently as I pushed myself upward on shaking arms. Agony tore through every muscle. My legs burned. My shoulders screamed. My head pounded so hard I thought I’d black out again.

I looked down at myself and nearly vomited.

Bruises bloomed purple and black across my thighs and ribs. My legs were streaked red. My face throbbed, swollen and hot. My dress, the beautiful black dress I’d spent an hour getting ready in lay ripped apart in the corner of the bathroom like discarded skin. Torn pieces still clung weakly to my body, barely covering me.

Humiliation hit almost as hard as fear.

My eyes drifted slowly toward the bathtub.

Pink water filled it nearly to the brim.

Empty bleach bottles were scattered across the floor beside it.

That was the lava.

The burning.

Oh God.

My stomach twisted violently as realization crashed fully into me. I didn’t even want to think about where the bleach had touched me. The fire crawling across my skin already told me enough.

This was real.

Every second of it.

Tears blurred my vision, but something colder began rising underneath the fear now. Something sharp. Something alive.

No.

No, this was not where my story ended.

I refused to die here.

I forced myself to breathe quietly while scanning the bathroom desperately for something- anything I could use. My eyes landed on the porcelain lid resting atop the toilet tank.

Heavy.

Solid.

The man on the balcony took another drag from his cigarette, completely unaware I was awake. Smoke drifted upward around him while distant music echoed faintly from the city below.

I moved slowly.

Every inch of my body screamed in protest as I wrapped trembling fingers around the porcelain lid and lifted it carefully into my arms. It was heavier than I expected. My muscles shook violently beneath the weight.

Don’t make a sound.
Don’t make a sound.
Don’t make a sound.

Bare feet pressed silently against wet tile as I crept through the cracked bathroom door.

Closer.

Closer.

I could hear him breathing now.

The city lights illuminated only the back of him. Broad shoulders. Dark shirt. One hand resting casually against the balcony railing.

I never saw his face.

And honestly?

I didn’t want to.

Something primal inside me understood that if I froze now, I would die.

So I swung.

Years of softball came back in one violent motion.

The porcelain shattered across the back of his skull with a sickening crack.

The man screamed and collapsed instantly against the balcony floor as broken ceramic exploded everywhere. His cigarette disappeared over the railing into the darkness below.

I didn’t wait.

Didn’t check if he was dead.
Didn’t look at him again.

I ran.

My hands fumbled wildly at the hotel room door before finally wrenching it open. I stumbled barefoot into the hallway, panic consuming every thought inside my head.

Run.

That was all my brain knew now.

Run.

I sprinted through the halls half naked and bruised, slamming into walls as dizziness blurred my vision. Hotel guests gasped as I passed. Someone screamed. A woman tried grabbing my arm asking if I was okay, but I ripped free and kept running.

The lobby erupted into chaos when I burst through it.

People stared in horror.
Phones appeared.
Voices shouted.

But none of it felt real.

I just kept running.

Out into the cold night air.

My lungs burned raw. My legs threatened to collapse beneath me with every step, but terror kept dragging me forward long after my body should’ve quit. Blood streaked down my legs while freezing wind tore through the scraps of fabric still clinging to me.

I didn’t stop.

Even when my vision blurred.
Even when my chest felt ready to burst.
Even when the city spun around me.

Then finally.

Red and blue lights.

For a second I almost ran from those too.

Every part of me still felt hunted.

But my body gave out before my mind could decide. My knees buckled violently beneath me and I collapsed onto the pavement.

I vaguely remember strong arms catching me. A police officer lowering me gently into the backseat of his cruiser while voices crackled over radios around us.

The adrenaline was fading now.

Everything looked distorted again.

Far away.

I could barely hear him speaking.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” the officer said quietly as he drove. “Hotel called us about a woman running out bloody and naked. We’re just glad we found you.”

Lucky.

The word made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

At the hospital came the rape kit. The questions. The photographs. The soft sympathetic looks that somehow hurt worse than judgment.

And afterward?

Nothing.

No DNA.
No fingerprints.
No security footage.

The hotel cameras conveniently “didn’t work.” No blood was found in the room. No reservation under Gregory’s name existed. The rideshare app showed no completed trip. The phone number disconnected days later. His dating profile vanished entirely like he had never existed at all.

Like a ghost.

The police told me they believed something happened. But belief wasn’t evidence.

I was devastated.

One night had shattered my entire life.

I stopped eating.
Stopped sleeping.
Stopped going to class.

I barely even left my dorm room anymore. Sometimes I’d stare at the bathroom door for nearly an hour before forcing myself inside because the thought of being alone behind a locked door made my chest tighten so badly I couldn’t breathe.

I never told my parents.

I couldn’t.

Not after all the warnings. All the fear. All the things they tried protecting me from.

So every phone call home became another lie.

“I’m doing great.”
“Classes are good.”
“Just busy.”

Meanwhile I was rotting alive inside myself.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t the only girl this had happened to.

Cases like mine disappeared constantly. Buried beneath excuses and victim blaming.

What were you wearing?
Why did you go with him?
You shouldn’t meet strangers online.
You drank too much.

Always somehow our fault.

Always something we should’ve done differently.

No.

Not anymore.

About a month later, I decided I couldn’t sit there waiting for another woman to end up where I did.

So I found a way to get the drug.

I’m not proud of that.
I never will be.

But rage does strange things to grief.

Every Friday night after that, I returned to the same bar.

Week after week.

Always hidden beneath oversized hoodies and jackets. Baseball cap low over my face. No makeup. Nothing remotely recognizable. I’d sit quietly near the back nursing one drink while watching the crowd carefully.

Waiting.

And on the fifth Friday.

There he was.

Gregory.

Or whatever the fuck his real name was.

He looked exactly the same. Calm. Charming. Beautiful.

Like evil wearing expensive cologne and a warm smile.

I watched him work all night.

Same routine.
Same body language.
Same fake kindness.

Eventually he found another girl. Blonde this time. Pretty. Young. Laughing too loudly already.

I watched the bartender refill her cocktails over and over without her even asking. I watched Gregory lean closer each time she spoke like she was the only woman in the world.

The same script.

The girl finally stumbled toward the bathroom laughing to herself while Gregory ordered waters at the bar.

My moment.

I pulled the hood lower over my face and approached beside him casually.

“Hey bro,” I said, forcing my voice deeper. “Friends bailed on these shots. Want one?”

To my surprise, he grinned instantly.

“Hell yeah.”

He barely even looked at me.

Too distracted watching the bathroom hallway. Waiting for her to come back.

I handed him the glass.

He drank it without hesitation.

Funny how trust works like that.

A few moments later his expression shifted.

Subtle at first.

Then suddenly the color drained from his face. He grabbed the edge of the bar hard as dizziness hit him all at once.

The exact same way it hit me.

He looked toward me confused. Panicked.

“Bro… what the fuck was in that?” he slurred weakly.

Slowly, I pulled my hood down.

And for the first time since that night, our eyes met again.

Recognition flooded his face instantly.

Pure terror followed right after it.

I leaned close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Careful,” I whispered softly as his body began swaying.

“You never know who’s driving.”