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I had an orgasm? Yes, now that I think about it, I remember coming. A thousand showers couldn’t wash off the filth I feel all over me. The way he’s looking at me doesn’t help. The way he smirks, like now we have a secret between us, one he finds extremely funny. “You’re sick.”
“And you begged for it.”
“What? I could barely speak. I couldn’t even string two or three words together.”
“Let’s go to the recording, shall we? It might clear up a few things for you.”
“You have a recording?” This is getting worse by the second. “A video?”
“No, I’m sorry to say because I would’ve liked to watch that. But the sounds are enough to help me remember the magic.” He takes out his phone and pulls something up, then places the device on the desk before hitting play.
Suddenly, the room is full of the sound of soft but rapid breathing. “Colt…” It’s a moan, and it’s coming from me. I know the sound of my own voice. A humiliated flush creeps up my neck and floods my face. “Yes… please.”
“Does that sound like I forced you?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Because, to me, that sounds like a girl who’s about to come.”
“Stop it,” I whisper, my skin crawling as the sound of my moans grows louder.
“Oh, Colt, yes… yes, so good…”
Colt rubs a palm over his crotch. “I’m starting to get a little hard just listening to it.” He smiles triumphantly before stopping the recording. The silence that replaces it is somehow more chilling.
“Like I said, you know I didn’t know what was happening. You saw the condition I was in. I was half unconscious most of the time.”
“Not when it counted, or do you want to listen again to be sure?”
“I’m going to go to the police.”
He sits back, looking me up and down, narrowing his eyes. “You think so?”
“I know so. I don’t need to be screaming the word ‘no’ for it to be rape. I’m sure there are still traces of narcotics in my blood, and anybody at the party last night would have seen me drinking champagne. I even left because I wasn’t feeling well.”
I don’t know what I expect. An apology? I should know by now that will never happen. I could hold my breath until I dropped dead without hearing a single apologetic word. “You know what? Go to the cops,” he decides with a shrug. “Tell them what happened. Tell them you were out of your mind and not yourself. But if they come to me, and I play them this recording, who do you think they’ll believe?”
Now I feel filthier than ever. Used and discarded. “What is wrong with you?” I whisper. After everything I’ve seen from him, after everything he’s done, this is by far the worst. He’s evil. Not even the slightest bit sorry for how I’m feeling now.
“You knew I was a virgin. How could you do this to me?” Most of the anger has left my voice, and sadness and denial have taken its place. “How could you take this away from me?”
Colt loses his smug smile. His expression turns somber, and something like empathy flashes over his pale-blue eyes. For a fraction of a second, I think he might actually apologize. That must have been wishful thinking.
“Be glad this was your first time. You should be thanking me for providing you with such a pleasant experience.”
Because I can’t pummel him to death with my fists, and I don’t want him to see me cry, I run back to my room and slam the door hard enough that the walls shake. That’s not enough. I want to tear the place apart. I want to break every piece of furniture in this room and then throw it through the windows, so they break, too. Same thing with the bathroom. I want everything shattered, in pieces, the way I feel inside.
How could he do that? How could I let him? He stole my virginity. Yes, stole like a thief. It was mine to give, mine alone.
And nobody will believe me. I don’t even think my mother would. She’d blame me for mixing alcohol with one of my pills—if she believed me at all that Colt used me, which I doubt. Colt would never play that recording for her, and that’s the only real proof anything happened last night. He could just as easily say it’s something I made up in my head.
No, I’m not safe anywhere—with anyone. And in another few hours, we’re going to be family.
“Leni. What the hell is going on up here?” Mom is already berating me before she’s even opened the door. She’s wearing a white satin robe, her face devoid of makeup, her hair freshly washed and still damp. “Here I am, expecting you to come down to meet with the hair and makeup people, and you’re slamming things around. Have you forgotten what today is?” She snaps her fingers close to my face, something I’ve always hated. It’s not easy resisting the impulse to slap her hands away.
“I was about to come down in another minute or so.”
“Well, you had better. We have a schedule to keep.”
“Wait a second, please,” I blurt out when she turns away.
She sighs heavily before turning back around. “What?”
