Page 53 of Kill Me

“Keelan, just spit it out.”

“There was a video, Quinn. Well, lots of videos. Videos with you in them.”

“Me? Doing what?” I’m so confused. Why would Eric have videos of me? He fucking hates me.

“I don’t know how to say this, so please forgive me. But they were raping you, Quinn.”

I sit there, stunned. “Raping me? What? I’ve never been raped.”

“Quinn, I saw it happen.”

“You watched a video of me being raped? By who?” I don’t even know what to feel. I want to laugh in his face at the ridiculousness. But something tells me he’s telling the truth.

“I didn’t watch it all. I wouldn’t do that to you. I skipped through the video thinking it was a video of him and Millie having sex and then saw it was you.”

“Wait, why is Millie on a video of me being raped?” I ask. My eyes are filling with tears, my skin is crawling with fear, my body is in full fight-or-flight mode and totally geared to flight.

“She—” He hangs his head. “She was holding you down, Quinn.”

I jump up from the sofa. “Why are you lying? Why would you say such nasty things?” My best friend would never do something so vile.

“Quinn, I would never lie to you about something like this. Please, sit down, and I’ll tell you everything.

My body is numb. I sit back down on the sofa, and he pulls out his phone.

“You brought it with you?” I ask incredulously.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I didn’t have it to show you. But before I show it to you, I need to tell you something else.”

Nausea rolls in my stomach and shoots up my throat. I grab the glass of water in front of me and gulp down a mouthful, trying to stave it off.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. But what could possibly be worse than you saying my best friend held me down while I was raped?”

“The people who raped you. Quinn, it was Eric and Dane.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I splutter. “Y-y-ou’re telling me that I was raped by my brother and his best friend?”

Tears pool in his eyes and overflow onto his cheeks.

“Yes. Quinn. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. If I’d have known, I’d have stopped it.”

“How many?”

“Huh?” He looks at me, confused.

“How many videos were there?”

“Four.”

“All from the same night?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You were wearing something different in each one.”

I’m dumbfounded. But I need to say it out loud to believe it could possibly be real. “So what you’re telling me is that my brother and his best friend, with the help of MY best friend, have raped me on four different occasions?”

“At least, yes.”

“Why do you say that?”