Plunging into the loveseat in the library loft, I muffle my sobs with the cushions. I jerk out of the gold plaid button-up shirt and cover my face with it. I soak through the buttery-soft material, quivering and unable to turn it off. The memory swims through my head, dragging me into a hellish pit of torment.

Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!

The guy rolls over and his hand lands on my stomach, flirting with the hem of the short shirt. He hums and runs fingers underneath, exploring my ribs. As soon as his hand hits the bottom of my breasts, I start to squirm, but even drunk he is stronger than me.

Before I know what's happening, he is crawling over, stripping the silver shirt off and yanking down the skirt and spandex shorts. I kick out and try to scream, but the music is so loud I can't hope anyone hears. My ears are ringing with adrenaline, but my efforts to shove him off are too easily thwarted.

"Get off me..." I mumble as my stomach churns with hot acid, "I don't want you on me!"

"Where is your friend?" He cackles, jamming three fingers into my desert dry slit.

The tears won't stop falling even as the sobs soften, making my entire body ache. I crush the plaid shirt to me in the violet skin-tight camisole. Rolling to my back, I rest my head on the armrest, staring up at the ceiling through blurry vision. Sniffing and tears cascading down my neck, I let my left leg fall down the side of the couch with my right knee bent into the back cushions.

Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!

I cry out and he smothers my mouth with his, drowning me in some nasty flavor of whiskey and sticky saliva. My pussy clamps around his fingers, waggling them inside and continues to pump in and out, bruising me. My body feels like it's tearing in half with every thrust and hard grip.

"Get off me..." I mutter around his hand.

"I'm just warming you up, sunshine," he laughs, moving his mouth to my neck, "and then I'm going to fuck you!"

"The hell you are!" Mallory slams the door behind her and flies toward us.

The guy is too quick and plunders off the bed, slamming her down. I don't see what happens, but Mallory ends up on the floor, unconscious. Then the guy looms toward me, husking pants and boxers all at once.

"No... No...Please, no." I pant, struggling to move, but my limbs are like lead.

A cry leaks out of me as he locks the door and crawls over me so fast, my body jostles. I groan, needing to throw up, but my stomach settles again.

"Please! No!" My throat blisters with the screams.

I want something to hold onto that's denser and more present than the material of the button-up shirt. A pillow or teddy bear would make me feel better, but what I really want is to feel Bailey's body heat. He would make me feel safe and I wouldn't sink into the dark memory of that fucking party. He knows something horrible happened. More than what Mallory told him. I still don't know if she doesn't know what happened or is just trying to protect my privacy.

Thrusting the panties aside, before I can even think, he's lodged inside me, scraping my sensitive skin and plundering caverns.

"Fuck, you're tight, sunshine!"

Cringing, tears swim down my face. He licks them up like candy and cackles, pumping and grinding. Sweat bathes my thighs even as muscles clench down around his cock defensively. My mouth drops open, preparing to scream, but his hand jams my jaw shut.

"You're so small... You're taking all of me. It must burn you up inside, sunshine!" His breath is lava against my skin.

Whimpering, I raise the shirt to my face again, giving into the lamentation taking over again. I swivel to the back of the couch, leaving my left leg off the couch, hurting my hips, but not caring.

Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!

Make it fucking stop! I don't want to relive this! It's not fair!

IT'S NOT FAIR!

How can this be fair?

No one should have to relive an assault!

I choke on the sobs, flailing my legs, thrashing my arms. I beat against his shoulders as hard as I can, digging nails into his skin wherever I can reach. He slides his cock out and flips me to my stomach, smothering my face in the pillow. He has better control this way, gliding through my folds seamlessly and I can't reach back to fight. I continue to flounder as he smacks my ass with his hand over and over, marking me. Then he stills, shuddering and moaning with ecstasy. His hot liquid spills inside, searing my shredded walls.

"No..." I croak.

My throat aches from all the bawling. My eyes are puffy, and face is probably red. I try to wipe my face clean, but can't get the tears to stop. They continue relentlessly, leaving me weakened and broken. There's nothing to make it all stop.

Suddenly, footsteps echo on the metal staircase. I don't know how much time has passed. I keep lying here, reliving the attack over and over. It won't turn off and now someone is on their way up here to catch me, defeated.

Finally, he climbs off and moves into the bathroom to clean up. I lose consciousness for a while. He leaves the room while my eyes are closed, cracking the door. Mallory groans, but doesn't get up. Hacking for air, I manage to get upright and find my clothes. I pull them on, tears flowing down my face.

"Max?" Riette lands raucously on his knees and digs in his pocket, "Max? What happened? I got there in time... He didn't..."

"Get off me..." I mutter barely audible even though he isn't even trying to touch me.

He shuffles around, "Dude... Brother... Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" He keeps his voice hushed, but demands whoever is on the other side of the phone to silence, "It's Max... Z found you...? Yeah, but she's crying and fuck, she's in bad shape, brother... I don't know... Library loft."

Riette rubs my back and tries to get me to roll toward him. I fight him only a little and he gives in. I let the shirt fall from my face, choking on the cries and stare at the material of the awful, ugly couch. It's not even that comfortable, but it's always been a reliable place for me to hide. Now, it won't even let me escape the memories.

It doesn't take long for someone else to pound up the metal staircase. Riette and Bailey whisper for a brief moment, before Bailey falls down behind me with a punitive thump. I flinch as his hand finds my hip. He pauses to let me register his warm touch.

"Baby?" Bailey's hand glides up my arm and turns me into his shoulder, "For fuck's sake. I don't like seeing you like this." He leans over, cradling me into his sturdy body, "I knew it was bad... I knew it. I'm taking you home, okay? My home... I know not your home."

He gets to his feet, scooping me into his arms. Riette shuffles ahead and somehow Bailey manages to carry me down the metal, spiraling staircase. I bury my face in his neck, finally calming down enough so I can breathe normal. I wrap around his shoulders tightly, and wait for him to get outside before I peek out.

"Can you get her car home, Ry?"

"No problem," Riette punches a text into his phone, "Connor is out today. He can fucking get me. Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Bailey doesn't sound pleased with the response.

"Keep us updated, brother. We'll fucking kill whoever touched her," Riette takes off toward the school after opening up the Cheyenne.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I crumple into myself. Mallory stirs and gets to her feet. There isn't a single bruise on her, though my thighs are covered in them. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she's at my side in an instant. Mallory barely touches my face before racing to crash the door shut and lock it.

I wince as Bailey helps me settle into the passenger side. My knee throbs from when I practically ran down the hallway after Memphis groped my ass. Bailey freezes and waits for me to get comfortable and then proceeds to shut the door. He's in the driver's seat in seconds and starting the pickup. Not even bothering to turn on some music, he peels out of the school parking lot, and speeds for home.

The guy slinks over me, stripping the silver shirt off and yanking down the skirt and spandex shorts. I kick out and try to scream, but the music is so loud I can't hope anyone hears. My ears are ringing with adrenaline, but my efforts to shove him off are too easily thwarted.

"Get off me..." I mumble as my stomach churns with hot acid, "I don't want you on me!"

I shift awkwardly, leaning into the window of the door. My forehead is clammy and hot, but the glass is cool on my skin. Bailey continues to glance sideways like I might suddenly shatter into a million pieces or just put myself back together. I don't think I'm getting through this as fast I hoped. I thought it was already disappearing into the past.

"Where is your friend?" He cackles, jamming three fingers past my desert dry center.

I screech and he smothers my mouth with his, drowning me in some nasty flavor of whiskey and sticky saliva. My pussy clamps around his fingers as he wobbles them inside and continues to plunge them in and out, bruising me. My body feels like it's splitting in half with every dive and rigid squeeze.

"Baby, do you need me to carry you?" Bailey opens the passenger door, "I'm right here, Max."

I turn my burning eyes to him and just sit there, practically hyperventilating. He grimaces, jaw feathering irately, and hauls me into his chest. I wrap around him the best I can and he anchors my left leg to his side.

I don't know how he always succeeds to hold onto me like it's so simple and the knee brace isn't making this incredibly problematic. He locks up the Cheyenne and carries me through the front door. He doesn't stop in the living room, and walks right upstairs like I weigh nothing, not even breaking a sweat.

Bailey lies me back on the bed and I automatically reel toward the inside of it. The window looks right into Taryn's room. Even though the curtains are closed, the shadows of furniture are apparent. He knew when we were watching him. That would be embarrassing if I had the ability or energy to care right now.

He must sense my gaze and hastens to jerk the blackout curtains closed. He flicks on the dim lamp at the desk before kicking off shoes and settling at my feet. Bailey draws my feet into his lap and slips the DC Chelsea shoes off. Then his weight sinks the mattress as he crawls up to the middle of the bed. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and shifts me into his chest. I breathe out a cleansing sigh and the tension in his shoulders reduces slightly.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere," Bailey murmurs, kissing my forehead, and pulls my arm over his abs. He skims fingers over my skin, "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I crumple into myself. Mallory stirs and gets to her feet. There isn't a single bruise on her, though my thighs are covered in them. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she's at my side in an instant. Mallory barely touches my face before racing to crash the door shut and lock it. She plucks the water from the dresser and practically pours it down my throat, offering the yellow aspirin. I swallow the tiny pills and finish off the water before she lies me back and covers me up.

"It's going to be okay, Max. We'll just sleep here. I'll take you home in the morning," Mallory strokes hair down my back while I cry myself to sleep.

💀

Wheezing for air, my eyes flash open, and I'm sweating through my clothes. I'm in the middle of the bed, facing the window. Maybe Bailey had to get up for something because now he's pressed into my back with an arm looped around my waist. I can't tell if he is asleep or just resting.

"You're awake," Bailey strokes hair off my clammy face, "baby, do you want to talk? You don't have to, but it may help."

Twisting to my back, I swivel my head to look at him. Baby blues are gentle on me, lacking peace. Not that there was ever much of that before.

I don't know how I accomplish it, but spill the whole thing. How I ended up in the room, Mallory leaving me to get water, the guy finding me and taking advantage of my wasted condition. He knocked out Mallory and then had his way with me. I give him every smarmy, raw detail until I fall silent, exhausted, famished, and thirsty.

Bailey just lies there, raking eyes over me. He listens silently and I watch as eyebrows knit together tighter and tighter. When I finish, he lifts his gaze to me, eyes glistening with tears. He doesn't let them fall and gently rolls me into his chest, snuggling me inflexibly.

The hug is almost painful with how resolutely he holds. It's not just to make me feel safe, but to reassure himself. I clutch at the back of his shirt, and let a few silent tears whisper down my cheeks. He kisses my forehead and wipes the tears away, breathing shallowly.

"Do you know who it was?" He brushes hair off my face and flips it behind my shoulders.

"No," I croak, desperate for water.

"Do you remember what he looked like?" He cradles my face in his hands, holding my eyes hostage.

I blink hard and shake my head. Bailey pecks the tip of my nose finally sitting up, swinging feet off the bed. He paces around for a while as I maneuver to the edge and try to pry the damp shirt from my sticky skin. Bailey pauses to watch me and then digs through a drawer and offers a small gray shirt and some jersey shorts.

Gingerly, I take it from his hand and wait as he turns around, crossing his arms. The scowl on his face is lethal and protective. I peel the violet camisole over my head, fumbling with the material of the fresh T-shirt until it floats down.

It takes time to undo the brace and wiggle out of the jeans. The shorts slide right up and I start working at the brace again. I let out a huff and Bailey peeks over a shoulder courteously then spins to watch me fasten the last strap on the brace.

"You can sleep here tonight," it doesn't sound like an offer or a request, but a command.

"Thank you, Bay."

He breathes out heavily, relieved to have it settled. Bailey runs fingers through his black hair and down the back of his neck. My stomach grumbles noisily and I lick cracked lips with my sandpaper tongue.

"I'm really thirsty," I rasp.

"Come on, baby," he helps me to wobbly feet and threads our fingers together.

I trail him down the short hallway with only one other door up here. It leads to a bathroom and then he turns. He waits patiently for me to shamble down the stairs and we head into the kitchen. The oven says that it is almost eight o'clock. I must have slept for a long time, but I don't even know when Riette found me.

"What time did you come get me?" I watch him throw together mac and cheese with hot dogs after serving me a glass of water.

"It was after fifth. Zane and Riette looked for you everywhere and then they split up. Riette knew the whole time where you would have gone, but he bought you time to calm down. If he knew how bad you were, he would have gone up there to get you sooner."

"I just couldn't turn it off..."

"Turn it off?" He stops stirring up the ingredients at the stove.

"It kept playing in my head... Something Memphis said or did just... It was impossible to turn off," my voice trembles like a whine, so I chug the rest of the water.

"What exactly did Memphis do?" Bailey growls splitting the food between two bowls.

"Smacked my ass and ran his hand..." I can only avert my eyes, "between my thighs."

"The fact that he touched you at all after I've paraded you around and showed you off... He has to know you're mine!" Bailey practically throws the pot in the sink, causing the noise to echo around the kitchen and make me startle, "Fucking hell!" He whirls to face me, staring at him wide-eyed, "Sorry, baby... I'm losing my shit. I want to kill the bastard who hurt you, and I might just kill Memphis for laying a hand on you."

"Riette already beat him up," I take a small bite of the food, "this is really good, Bay."

Bailey joins me, taking my free hand and eating with his left hand instead, "how are you so calm?"

"I'm not. I promise..." I continue eating despite the curdling in my stomach, "I just... I know how to fake it."