Chapter 15: Chapter: 15

ANDREA

I woke with a choked shriek, my body soaked with sweat. I stumbled out of bed, falling down in a tangle of sheets, only to scramble up again. I rushed into my bathroom.

I had barely bent over the toilet seat when the vomit came; I threw up everything I had eaten before going to bed.

My body wracked with the force of the motion, my stomach cramped and lurched violently as I emptied its contents.

Until there was nothing left, only the bitter taste of bile on my tongue. I flushed the toilet, then washed and rinsed my face and mouth.

I take my brush and apply a glob of toothpaste, then brush my teeth until the disgusting taste of vomit leaves my mouth. I felt drained and weak as I walked back to the room and lay back on the bed. But I couldn't go back to sleep.

I hadn't had that particular dream ever since I moved to New York. It was strange that I would have this dream when I had just agreed to seduce Nick.

I knew it was my conscience warning me against what I was about to do—warning me of the wrongness of it.

My mind went back to the dream, or rather, the memory of that dreadful day, no matter that I didn't want to recount the events that had almost made me another statistic. Another rape victim of malicious young men in college.

If not for Beth and her obsession with Jake, which had led her upstairs looking for him, when she couldn't find him. And had heard my screams, then decided to climb up the ladder to the second-storey balcony to see what was going on after the door refused to open. I would have been repeatedly rape by both of them.

Beth had been shocked, to say the least. She had threatened to call the cops if they didn't let me up. Even as they tried to pin all the blame on me, saying I was the one who wanted to have a threesome with them.

They were very convincing; if I weren't the victim in this situation, I would probably have believed them.

Surprisingly, Beth hadn't believed them; she had dialed 911, and the front desk had even answered. They'd quickly dressed, Beth had watched them all through it, then she sent them out of the room with threats.

That she would fucking mutilate them if any of them ever came near me again. She'd helped me back into my clothes and then sat with me as I clutched onto her and ugly sobbed my heart out while she consoled me and asked if I wanted to report it to the police.

I'd shake my head. I was exhausted, traumatized, sad, and heartbroken. And the only thing I wish was to open my eyes and find out that everything that happened, everything I had gone through was nothing but a nightmare.

But I couldn't wish something like that away, no matter how much I wanted to. Bad shits happens. The next best thing is for people not to find out how much of a fool I was for trusting a guy who had only wanted to use me in the most degrading way, even after I'd heard people talking about what they did, him and Jake.

Beth didn't judge. I'm sure she was a little disappointed, too, that Jake's not who she thought he was.

She stayed locked with me in that hated room until I finally passed out and woke in the morning when the effects of whatever drug Luke had used on me had left me.

Then we went back to our dorm room together. I had to thank God for sending Beth to my rescue every day, when I was close to giving up the fight.

I was traumatized by what Luke and Jake had done to me. I couldn't date for a year, and when I finally began to date. I would have a panic attack whenever the guy I was dating suggested anything more intimate than a kiss.

I was paranoid with every guy; dating became more of a chore, or rather a way for me to prove that what happened didn't scar me for life.

That I was okay, when in truth I'm really not, it got to the point where I got panic attacks whenever I was alone with my date, even if we weren't doing anything. I didn't sleep very well. I stopped clubbing and also stopped dating.

I became depressed, which led to my being dependent on antidepressants. Not to mention, I had severe trust issues.

Beth–God bless her- had advised me to go for therapy, and I did for almost a year; it was a great help. I never told anyone, not even my parents.

Knowing they would try to convince me to file charges and sue the bastards. To be honest, the last thing I needed was to see either of their ugly faces.

For the few days they were at the University of Chicago, life there was hell for me. Whenever I saw Luke or Jake, I would freeze with a crippling fear, and that night would replay in my head.

In the night, I would wake up screaming, sweating, and terrified. More than anything, the powerlessness I felt that night was what haunted me.

Even after they'd left, things didn't go back to normal, to the way they were. That was four years ago.

Here I am about to do something equally despicable. Was it any wonder that I had this nightmare? It was a reminder. My conscience is asking me if I was any better than Luke and Jake for what I was about to do.

I quickly shake my head. No, no, I refused to believe it was the same. The two situations are entirely different. I have no choice.

It's either that or I spend the rest of my life with a criminal, plus I'm helping a friend who has been nothing but good to me. That's the difference.