Ironically, the torment started in my second semester of freshman year, when I stumbled into Marcus in an empty classroom.
My first semester of ninth grade was the best time of my life. I was taking classes taught by incredible professors. I was eating gourmet meals crafted by world-renowned chefs. Solana and I had a place that felt like a dream—a cozy dorm with sunlight streaming through the windows, casting warm, golden hues across the room. It was a haven every time I read a book.
I remember the thrill of waking up at dawn, lacing up my shoes, and heading out for a run with Solana through the misty woods. Evenings were spent in the dimly lit corners of the library, books sprawled across the table, our laughter echoing through the halls during late-night study sessions with the boys from Oak. And then I had a crush on a boy named Atlas—his gaze lingering a little too long, a shy smile tugging at his lips whenever I was near. But my insecurities held me back, a shadow that kept me from reaching out. Solana, with her knowing smirk, still hadn't stopped teasing me for letting that chance slip through my fingers. Unfortunately, he transferred soon after, and I never saw him again.
If I'd known then what I know now, I would've held onto those moments a little tighter, savoring the innocence and bliss before everything unraveled. I would've gone on more morning runs, slept in my dorm more, played cards with Solana as much as I could, and I've given into my desires, given into the sweet thought of a high school romance—of Atlas.
I wouldn't have wandered into that empty classroom, where the sight of Marcus wrapped in a forbidden embrace with a naked teacher shattered the illusion of our perfect world. I wouldn't have caught the eye of the Hades of Aldridge, who instantly tossed me into the underworld. My once-perfect life quickly became a living hell that I went through in secret.
It began with a threat. Tell anyone and your mother's business wouldn't see the light of day.
I gave in to his command, terrified that the fitness center my mother had poured her blood, sweat, and tears into would be obliterated, leaving her devastated, just as she'd never fully recovered from Dad walking out on us. My heart was in pieces as I dropped to my knees, pleading with Marcus to reconsider, my voice trembling with desperation. I couldn't bear the thought of her destroying the only person I'd ever loved. What did it matter to me who Marcus decided to kiss? I didn't care about him being with a teacher, only about surviving long enough to make it to graduation.
But Marcus didn't see it that way. Instead, as he watched me plead on my knees, he lifted my chin and had me suck his cock into submission. To him, my pleas were nothing more than proof of my weakness, and my supposed disloyalty festered in his mind like a dark, poisonous seed. Even after he stopped associating with the teacher—or at least that's what he said—he continued to call on me. What began as mere suspicion quickly morphed into a sadistic game designed to keep me under his thumb. And I consented to it, all to save my mother and myself.
It started with small demands—writing his papers, taking his notes, running his errands. His friends Jennie, Blair, Kash, and Issac eagerly joined in on the torment, their laughter echoing like cruel music in the background. But as time went on, his demands grew more severe—he began to demand my body.
After I gave him head, he never touched me again. The first time I said yes out of fear, thinking if I did just this one thing, I'd never have to deal with him again. But he always returned. He started being more lenient with his abuse and never took it too far … until one day he did. He took my virginity. In his mind he thought he did no wrong, saying I consented to it. But what he didn't understand was that my life would've been over if I had said no.
His verbal abuse was one thing, but what truly broke me was the cold, calculated entitlement he wielded over me. He relished in the power, forcing me to stand under a splintered wooden board while he casually threw darts above my head, each one landing with a dull thud that made my heart jump. I was his maid, his scapegoat, the one he could rely on to clean up his messes, to edit and review his homework, to be invisible until he needed something—and he always needed something.
I could feel my identity slipping away, replaced by the constant fear of his demands. I was trapped in a nightmare where my voice didn't matter, where the only sound that mattered was his voice commanding me.
Aldridge had become a twisted prison, and he was my twisted ward.
I realized, with a heavy heart, that if I wanted to survive, I had no choice but to endure it, to let his cruelty play out until he grew bored or found a new target. Resistance would only make things worse, so I learned to keep my head down, to swallow my pride, and to pretend that the humiliation didn't cut as deep as it did. I didn't hate the sex. I didn't hate the gifts he'd give me at times when he was feeling generous. But I wasn't naive, I knew how he manipulated and twisted people's minds.
Every day, I reminded myself that this wouldn't last forever—that if I could just make it to graduation, I could leave it all behind. But the cost of it all was steep. I began to distance myself from the few friends I had left, pushing them away before they could get too close and see the bruises that were more than just skin deep.
The only person I had was Solana. But even with her, I couldn't bring myself to reveal the full extent of what was happening. I didn't want to drag her into the mess that had become my life. I couldn't bear the thought of Marcus turning her venom on Solana, of her being his next plaything. So, I never discussed with Solana who would call on me, who would text me, and why I abruptly always had to leave. She was suspicious but never questioned it—she must've gotten too used to my blatant responses to try. I was determined to keep her safe, to keep my mom safe, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process.
—
By the time I left Oak dormitory, the night had taken a sharp turn for the worse. My phone buzzed with an email notification containing my class schedule, followed by a text from Solana: Jack's sleeping over. It felt like a double homicide, each message hitting me with equal force. I skimmed the email, noting the names of my classmates. Marcus, to my bad luck, was there, of course. But what threw me off was seeing Atlas listed in the same department. Atlas? In classics? I had fully expected him to be buried in the athletics department where he belonged. What the hell was he doing in classics? My frustration bubbled over. And to top it all off, Solana and Jack were going to be screwing on my bed tonight.
"Fucking hell," I hissed under my breath, the words filled with more exhaustion than anger.
I decided to head to the library. It was the only sanctuary left, the only place where I could clear my head and escape from the mess waiting in my dorm. I might as well get started on my reading log; anything was better than walking in on Solana and her boy toy. As I made my way up the grand staircase of the library, the old wood creaking beneath my feet, I tried to focus on finding a short story by Jane Austen. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of Atlas's face from my mind. The disappointment in his eyes was etched deep in my memory, the same look he'd given me on the last day he was here, the day I rejected him. I had let my insecurities dictate my actions, convinced he'd leave me if we ever got together. I hadn't once considered how much I might have hurt him by pushing him away.
I sighed as I walked into the open corridor. The library was breathtaking—it was the one part of Aldridge I missed while leaving for school breaks—a hidden gem within the cold stone walls of the school. High, arched ceilings adorned with intricate carvings soared above rows of towering bookshelves. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the space, making the polished mahogany floors gleam. I wandered through the aisles, heading to the classics section.
After a few minutes of wandering and finding the book I was looking for, I headed down the aisle. I sank into one of the library's plush velvet couches. I pulled out the book I'd chosen, but the words blurred together on the page. The regret weighed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I drifted off to sleep right there on the couch, the book slipping from my hands. I was only roused when the old librarian, her silver hair tied back in a tight bun, gently shook my shoulder, reminding me that curfew was near. I mumbled an apology, gathered my things, and made my way back to the reality I'd been so desperate to avoid.