Silent Wounds
The days that followed were a blur of pain, confusion, and a haunting sense of violation that refused to leave me. I felt trapped inside my own body—every step, every movement, reminded me of what had been taken from me. I tried to move through my routines as if nothing had happened, but my heart pounded with fear each time someone spoke too loudly or brushed against me in the hallway.
I couldn't shake the voices I had heard that night. The man's cold, detached tone. The woman's cruel words—"that bitch had it coming." Someone I knew had orchestrated this. But who? And why?
I avoided my friends, making excuses to skip group outings and hangouts. The thought of telling anyone terrified me. What if they didn't believe me? What if they blamed me?
And then there was Daniel—my boyfriend. Sweet, patient Daniel, who had never pressured me even after three years together. The guilt of not telling him gnawed at me, but how could I? How could I admit that my body—once his to cherish—had been violated by a stranger? Would he see me differently? Would he leave?
I tried to act normal when we met at the café later that week. My hands trembled as I sipped my coffee, hoping he wouldn't notice how pale I looked.
"You've been distant lately," he said softly, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Is everything okay, babe?"
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to break down and confess everything—but the words lodged in my throat like a bitter pill. If I told him the truth, I feared he would look at me with pity… or worse, disgust.
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from studying."
He reached across the table, holding my hand gently. "You know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is."
His kindness almost broke me. I wanted to believe he could handle the truth, but something inside me screamed that he wouldn't understand. That no one would.
As days turned into weeks, I became obsessed with uncovering the truth. Every night, I replayed the voices in my head, memorizing every detail I could recall from that horrible night. Someone had wanted to hurt me—and whoever they were, I would find them.
I started paying attention to the people around me in ways I never had before. The girls who whispered behind my back. The boys who lingered too long when I passed by. My suspicion grew with every glance, every stray comment.
And then, one afternoon, I overheard something that made my blood run cold.
I had been walking through the corridor after class when I heard two voices laughing softly in the empty stairwell. I recognized one instantly—it was Olivia, my former best friend. We hadn't spoken in months, not since the day I caught her flirting with Daniel at a party.
"I still can't believe you went through with it," the other girl giggled.
"Please," Olivia scoffed. "That prude deserved it. Acting all innocent like she's better than everyone else… I just gave her a little reality check."
My heart stopped. My vision blurred. Was it her? Was Olivia behind what happened to me?
I felt my knees go weak, but I forced myself to stay calm. If she thought she had won—if she thought I would break—she was wrong. I would get to the bottom of this.
No matter what it took.
Chapter 3: Silent Wounds
The days that followed were a blur of pain, confusion, and a haunting sense of violation that refused to leave me. I felt trapped inside my own body—every step, every movement, reminded me of what had been taken from me. I tried to move through my routines as if nothing had happened, but my heart pounded with fear each time someone spoke too loudly or brushed against me in the hallway.
I couldn't shake the voices I had heard that night. The man's cold, detached tone. The woman's cruel words—"that bitch had it coming." Someone I knew had orchestrated this. But who? And why?
I avoided my friends, making excuses to skip group outings and hangouts. The thought of telling anyone terrified me. What if they didn't believe me? What if they blamed me?
And then there was Daniel—my boyfriend. Sweet, patient Daniel, who had never pressured me even after three years together. The guilt of not telling him gnawed at me, but how could I? How could I admit that my body—once his to cherish—had been violated by a stranger? Would he see me differently? Would he leave?
I tried to act normal when we met at the café later that week. My hands trembled as I sipped my coffee, hoping he wouldn't notice how pale I looked.
"You've been distant lately," he said softly, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Is everything okay, babe?"
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to break down and confess everything—but the words lodged in my throat like a bitter pill. If I told him the truth, I feared he would look at me with pity… or worse, disgust.
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from studying."
He reached across the table, holding my hand gently. "You know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is."
His kindness almost broke me. I wanted to believe he could handle the truth, but something inside me screamed that he wouldn't understand. That no one would.
As days turned into weeks, I became obsessed with uncovering the truth. Every night, I replayed the voices in my head, memorizing every detail I could recall from that horrible night. Someone had wanted to hurt me—and whoever they were, I would find them.
I started paying attention to the people around me in ways I never had before. The girls who whispered behind my back. The boys who lingered too long when I passed by. My suspicion grew with every glance, every stray comment.
And then, one afternoon, I overheard something that made my blood run cold.
I had been walking through the corridor after class when I heard two voices laughing softly in the empty stairwell. I recognized one instantly—it was Olivia, my former best friend. We hadn't spoken in months, not since the day I caught her flirting with Daniel at a party.
"I still can't believe you went through with it," the other girl giggled.
"Please," Olivia scoffed. "That prude deserved it. Acting all innocent like she's better than everyone else… I just gave her a little reality check."
My heart stopped. My vision blurred. Was it her? Was Olivia behind what happened to me?
I felt my knees go weak, but I forced myself to stay calm. If she thought she had won—if she thought I would break—she was wrong. I would get to the bottom of this.
No matter what it took.