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A week went by. Then two. I thought it was over.
Back in the now, lying on the bed in my dorm room at Pinecrest University, I let out a dry, bitter laugh as I run my fingers over the diamond-studded collar. I was anidiotback then. So idealistic. So fucking naive. When Brent said he’d deleted the video, I’d actually believed him.
But he wasn’t done punishing me yet.
On the third week, days after I’d assumed the money had cleared in whatever offshore account he’d hidden it in, Brent released the video anyway.
And the fucker hash-tagged my mother’s church, just like he’d threatened to.
The uproar from the community was immediate, and shocking. In my darkest nightmares, I’d never imagined everyone in my life would turn on me like that. My friends, my neighbors… my family.
Because Brent was anonymous, all that hate came straight atme.
I was slut-shamed from the moment I set foot in the hall at my high school until I left an hour later, in tears. I missed a month of schoolwork, and nearly didn’t graduate.
My family disintegrated. My father was livid when he found out my mother had paid off Brent. He and my mother fought every time they saw each other, blaming each other for the way their slutty daughter had turned out.
And all the while, I was too ashamed to admit that I didn’t even remember Brent taking the video. I blamed myself for being stupid enough to go to his house, to drink anything he’d offered me…to believe him when I woke up on the couch.
My parents forced me to see a therapist. But I couldn’t even tellherthe truth. And she knew I was keeping something from her, so she never gave me the all clear. Mom spent more and more time at the church. She would come home late and leave early. Soon her and my father weren’t even speaking to each other anymore.
Then, the day after I graduated, they had a massive blowout. I guess my father couldn’t take it anymore, because he told me that we were moving out of the city to try to scrape together a life away from the nuclear fallout of that video.
But I guess we didn’t go far enough.
If that video made it all the way out here, to this small town in the middle of nowhere, then I’ll never be able to escape my past. Five, ten years from now, I’ll be applying for a job somewhere, and the person in charge of hiring would have seen it.
Honestly, when my dad said we’re moving out here, hope blossomed in my crushed heart for the first time in months. I wanted to believe it too—that we could take a long car ride and it would all be different. Like flipping a switch.
But then I met Owen.
I wish I’d known he saw me on that video before we even met. I wouldn’t have been such a fool. Instead, it felt like we weremeantto be together. Like he was the yang to my yin.
There was a reason I moaned like a cheap whore on that video. Ididenjoy it. Brent and I had dabbled in some BDSM before. I loved being tied up, having him fuck me roughly from behind. We’d never tried spanking and stuff like that, but we probably would have… if he hadn’t fucked someone else.
I’ve thought about it a lot since then. What would have happened if I’d just forgiven him instead of breaking up? Would he still have raped me? Still have blackmailed me? Still have ruined my life?
Maybe not.
My life would have been shitty either way… but at least I wouldn’t have dragged my parents down with me.
Bringing the collar to my mouth, I brush the smooth, cool stones against my lips.
I know why I kept this. I don’t want to admit it, but Imisshim. I miss Owen. When I was with him, I didn’t feel like a freak or a slut. It was exciting and new… but in a good way. In ahealthyway.
Which doesn’t say much about how fucked up my life was before I knew him.
I wish I’d met him before I met Brent. If he’d been my first, everything would have been different. We’d have been able to explore our darker sides together.
But it’s too late to change what happened. Too late tofixmy life. I’ve fucked it up too badly.
I’m destined to be alone, unloved,shamed.
And honestly, it’s what I deserve.
