18

As I gaze at my reflection, I can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. The baggy pants, hanging tantalizingly low on my hips, reveal just a hint of the lacy thong beneath, adding an edge of allure to my outfit. My cropped top, snug against my skin, showcases the hours spent honing my physique, the toned abs a testament to my dedication. I feel empowered, a blend of comfort and sexiness that makes me stand a little taller.

The sudden rap on my door pulls me from my reverie. Lilith stands there, a vision in leather. Her miniskirt and crop top ensemble exudes an aura of confidence that's infectious. "Hey, are you ready to go?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I nod, grabbing my jacket, the soft leather a comforting weight in my hands. As I follow Lilith out, we cross paths with Neuvi, casually leaning against the wall. His posture screams nonchalance, but there's a glint in his eyes that suggests otherwise.

"Hey, Neuvi," Lilith greets, her tone cool and collected.

Neuvi's gaze rakes over me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Lilith. And." he drawls, his eyes lingering on my outfit. "Nice thong."

His words ignite a spark of anger, but I refuse to let him see it. Instead, I flash him a sweet smile. "Thanks," I reply, my voice saccharine. "I think it brings out my eyes."

Lilith's eyes roll heavenward. "Can you not be an asshole for like, five minutes?" she asks, exasperation clear in her voice.

Neuvi shrugs, his smirk never wavering. "No promises," he says, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside us.

As we approach the party, the air is electric with energy. The bass thrums in my chest, the lights flicker in anticipation, and I can feel the excitement bubbling within me. Tonight is about letting loose, about having fun. And I'm more than ready.

Tonight, I'm determined to shed my inhibitions. I make my way to the bar, the music pulsating through me as I grab a drink. The cool glass feels good in my hand, the liquid within promising a temporary escape.

As I sway to the rhythm, I catch the eye of a cute guy across the room. His smile is warm, genuine, and it ignites a flutter of excitement within me. Maybe tonight is going to be more interesting than I thought.

I don't want another guy, it's gonna be so much drama.

The alcohol courses through my veins, a heady rush that's both exhilarating and unfamiliar. I'm not one to drink so much, but tonight, I want to let loose. I want to forget about my problems, if only for a little while.

As I dance, I find myself drawn to a tall figure across the room. He has dark hair and piercing eyes that seem to see right through me. A jolt of attraction surges through me, and before I know it, I'm making my way over to him.

We start to dance together, our bodies moving in sync. The connection is electric, a rush of excitement and freedom that makes my heart race. In this moment, nothing else matters.

But as the night wears on, a haze begins to settle over me. My vision blurs, and I struggle to maintain my balance. I'm not sure how many shots I had, but I know it's more than I'm used to.

As I dance with the stranger, I feel like I'm in a dream. His features blur, and for a moment, he looks like Ares, my secret boyfriend. I know it's not really him, but in my drunken state, I can't help but imagine that it is.

The stranger leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

A shiver runs down my spine. I know I should be careful, but in this moment, I don't want to be. I want to feel desired, to feel wanted.

We continue to dance, our bodies pressed close together. I can feel his hands roaming over me, and I know I should stop him, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm caught up in the moment, in the fantasy. But even as I lose myself in the dance, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning. I push it away, choosing to live in the moment, for better or for worse.

As I continue to dance, lost in the rhythm of the music, I feel a bold hand on my body. The stranger's touch is unexpected, but I don't pull away. Instead, I find myself leaning into it, my body moving in time with his.

I turn around, my back to his front, and begin to twerk, my hands raised high in the air. The movement is sensual, a provocative dance that's as empowering as it is enticing. I can feel the stranger's eyes on me, his hands resting on my hips.

But then, his hands move lower, cupping my ass as I continue to dance. The touch is intimate, a clear violation of my personal space. I should stop him, should push his hands away, but I'm frozen, unsure of how to react.

I can feel the heat of his touch even through the fabric of my pants, his fingers gripping me tightly. It's a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort, a sensation that's both thrilling and alarming.

I continue to dance, my body moving in a fluid, sensual rhythm. My hands are still raised high, my hair cascading down my back as I twerk. I can feel the stranger's hands on me, his touch growing more insistent with each passing moment.

The music thrums around us, the bass pulsating through my body as I dance. I can feel the stranger's breath against my neck, his body pressed close against mine. It's a heady, intoxicating feeling, one that's both exciting and overwhelming.

But his touch is unlike Ares's.

But as I glance over, I see my friends watching me from afar, their expressions a mix of concern and shock. I feel a pang of guilt, but I push it away, choosing instead to embrace the attention of the strangers around me.

With a surge of drunken confidence, I hoist myself up onto the counter, dancing like a stripper as the men around me cheer. I can feel their eyes on me, their admiration fueling my ego. I move my hands from my hips to my ass, my body gyrating to the beat of the music.

My friends look even more concerned now, but I don't care. I'm having fun, living in the moment. I hop off the counter, cheering with the men I don't know, and we all drink shots together.

Woohoo!

As I down the shot, I feel a momentary rush of exhilaration. But even as I laugh and dance with the strangers around me, I can't shake the feeling that I'm pushing my limits, that I'm teetering on the edge of losing control.

As I stumble towards the guy who danced with me, I feel a surge of boldness. I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him close as I whisper in his ear with a sexy voice, "I'll let you have sex with me."

His body tenses, his eyes widening in surprise. But then, a hungry look crosses his face as he squeezes my ass and lifts me up, carrying me out of the room. "Oh really?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

I nod, my mind clouded with alcohol and desire. I'm not thinking straight, my inhibitions lowered by the drinks I've consumed. I close my eyes, letting him lead me away from the party.

A few minutes later, I find myself in a dimly lit hallway. "Where are we going..." I murmur, my voice slurred. But before I can finish my thought, he silences me with a kiss, his lips pressing against mine as he pushes me against the wall.

I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine. My body feels heavy, my thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

A few minutes later, I'm lying on a bed, the room spinning around me. "Where am I..." I mutter, my voice barely audible.

But he doesn't answer, his hands already roaming over my body, pulling at my clothes. I feel a momentary flash of panic, but it's quickly replaced by a haze of desire.

A few minutes later, I'm naked, a guy kissing my neck as his hands explore my body. I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, his breath hot against my skin.

I'm dimly aware of what's happening, but I'm too drunk to protest, too lost in the moment to push him away. I close my eyes, letting him continue, even as a small voice in the back of my mind whispers that this is a mistake.

As I lie there, my body exposed and vulnerable, I feel a surge of fear. I tell him to stop, my voice shaking as I try to push him away. But he's too strong, his grip on me like iron.

He probably thinks I'm being kinky, or maybe he just doesn't care or, he wants to rape me. Either way, he refuses to listen, his hands continuing to roam over my body as I struggle beneath him.

"Jeez, what's wrong with you?" he mutters, his breath hot against my skin.

I yell at him to leave me alone, my voice hoarse with panic. I manage to push him away, scrambling to gather my clothes as I try to escape.

But he grabs my arms, his grip tightening painfully as he pulls me back towards the bed. "You aren't going anywhere," he growls, his eyes dark with anger.

He throws me onto the bed, his body pinning me down as he ties my hands with his own, leaving me helpless and exposed. I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, his breath hot against my neck as he begins to sexually harass me.

I'm lost, my mind a whirl of panic and fear. I can feel tears streaming down my face, my body trembling with terror. I try to scream, to fight back, but it's like my body is frozen, my voice trapped in my throat.

...

...

I'm crying, my thoughts scattered and disjointed. I can't think, can't move, can't do anything but lie there and endure his assault. It's like I'm trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape the horror of what's happening to me.

...

...

As I lie there, trapped beneath him, I catch sight of a glass bottle filled with alcohol on the counter nearby. I don't want to look at his face, don't want to see the twisted expression of pleasure and pain. So I move a little to the side, my eyes fixed on the bottle.

His hands are on my hips now, leaving my bruised hands free. I can feel a surge of clarity, a moment of focused determination. I know what I have to do.

I grab the bottle, my grip tightening around the neck as I swing it towards his face. It connects with a sickening crunch, the glass shattering on impact, leaving his face a bloody, pulpy mess.

He screams in pain, his hands flying to his face as he tries to protect himself. But I'm not done yet. I stand up, my body shaking with rage as I rain blow after blow down on him, the jagged edge of the bottle tearing into his flesh.

His face is ruined, a mask of blood and gore. I can feel his blood on my body, hot and sticky, but I don't care. I hate him, hate what he's done to me. I just want him to suffer, to pay for what he's done.

I stab him again and again, my arm moving in a frenzy of violence. I can hear him choking, gurgling as he tries to breathe, but I don't stop. I just keep going, my mind focused on one thing and one thing only: making him pay.

Finally, I stand up, my chest heaving as I watch him bleed out on the bed. I feel nothing, no remorse, no guilt, just a cold, empty numbness.

I walk to the bathroom, my footsteps slow and deliberate. I look at myself in the mirror, my reflection a stranger's, covered in blood and gore. I stare into my own eyes, but there's nothing there, no thoughts, no emotions, just a hollow emptiness.

I turn on the shower, the water hot and steamy as it washes away the evidence of what I've done. But even as the blood swirls down the drain, I know that I can't wash away the memories, the trauma, the pain. I know that I'll carry this with me, always.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. I'm still a little bit drunk, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins is keeping me alert. I put my clothes back on, trying not to look at the lifeless body on the bed. I'm so scared right now, but I know I have to keep it together.

I drink some water from a bottle I find on the desk, trying to calm my nerves. I check the room for cameras, but there don't seem to be any. I can hear music and voices coming from the other side of the door, and I know my friends are probably looking for me.

I open the door slowly, peeking out into the hallway. It's empty, thank god. I step out of the room and lock the door behind me, sliding the key under the door and pushing it towards the other side. I walk down the hallway with a straight face, trying to act like nothing is wrong. But inside, I'm traumatized. I can still see his face, covered in blood and glass shards. I can still feel his hands on me.

As I approach the elevator, I see a man inside. I hate men. Why am I so scared of them now? I don't want to go in the elevator with him. The door is open and I'm standing there, frozen. He asks me, "Are you coming in or what?" No, definitely no. I shake my head and walk away, heading for the stairs instead. I run down four flights of stairs, my heart pounding and sweat pouring down my face.

When I get back to the party, it's already over. I don't see my friends anywhere, and I assume they must have thought I went home and left without me. I see a girl janitor cleaning up, and I'm relieved that it's a woman. I ask her what time it is, and she tells me it's 1 am. Shit. My parents are going to be so mad at me. But I can't think about that right now. I just want to get out of here and go home. I don't want to be around people, especially men. I just want to be alone.

As I'm walking, I see a police car driving by. My heart skips a beat and I quickly turn away, hoping they didn't see me. I can't go to the police, I can't tell anyone what happened. I don't want to get in trouble, and I don't want anyone to know what I did.

I decide to go to the only place I can think of, the one place where I might be able to hide and figure things out. I take out my phone and call the only person I know, that might be up. Lucifer. I can't call Ares. I can't call Lilith, Neuvi and Daiyu. I called Lucifer, he already picked it up quickly.

The line crackled with static, his voice echoing through the receiver, "Moxie?" There was a pause, a sense of unease seeping through the call. "Please, help me...I fucked up," I pleaded, my voice trembling with desperation.

"Moxie? What the fuck did you do?" His concern was palpable, his tone shifting from casual to serious. The weight of my mistake hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to my recklessness.

"Just fucking help me, OKAY?" I snapped, frustration and fear lacing my words. The silence that followed was deafening, a testament to the gravity of the situation.

He sighed, the sound echoing through the phone like a mournful wind. "Meet up at the park," he finally said, his voice resigned. The call ended, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the looming specter of my mistake.

The park was where we had our first date.

I made my way to the park, trying to stay in the shadows and avoid any potential witnesses. When I arrive, Lucifer is already there, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He looks at me with concern and a hint of annoyance.

"What the hell happened, Moxie?" he asks, his voice low and stern.

I take a deep breath and tell him everything. About the party, the guy, the alcohol, the rape, and the murder. I try to keep my voice steady, but I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Lucifer listens quietly, his expression unreadable. When I finish, he lets out a long sigh and rubs his temples.

"Fuck, Moxie. This is...this is serious. You know that, right?"

I nod, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

"Okay," he says, straightening up. "Here's what we're going to do. First, we need to get you out of here. You can't go home, and you can't stay here. You need to disappear for a while."

I nod again, feeling a mix of relief and fear. Lucifer takes out his phone and makes a few calls, speaking in low, urgent tones. After a few minutes, he hangs up and turns to me.

"I have a friend who owes me a favor. He's going to help you get out of the city and lay low for a while. But Moxie, listen to me. You can't tell anyone where you're going. You can't contact anyone. You need to disappear completely."

I nod, feeling tears start to fall down my cheeks. Lucifer steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"It's going to be okay," he says, his voice soft. "I'm going to help you. But you need to be strong, Moxie. You need to survive."

I nod again, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Lucifer. He's always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I know he's risking a lot by helping me, but I also know that he's the only one I can trust.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest.

"Don't thank me yet," he says, pulling away. "We still have a lot of work to do."

He takes my hand and leads me out of the park, towards an uncertain future. But for the first time since the attack, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to survive this after all.

Lucifer leads me to a car parked nearby, and we get in. He starts the engine and drives out of the city, heading towards a remote location. We don't speak much during the drive, both lost in our own thoughts. I'm still in shock, trying to process what happened and what I did.

After what feels like hours, we arrive at a small cabin in the woods. Lucifer tells me that it belongs to one of his friends, and that I can stay here for as long as I need to. He gives me a set of keys and shows me around the place, which is small but cozy.

"You'll be safe here," he says, his voice gentle. "No one knows about this place, and no one will find you."

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Lucifer hugs me tightly before leaving, promising to check in on me and bring me supplies.

Over the next few days, I try to come to terms with what happened. I cry a lot, and I have nightmares every night. I can't eat much, and I feel sick to my stomach most of the time. But I also feel a strange sense of relief, knowing that I'm safe and that no one can hurt me here.

Lucifer comes to visit me every few days, bringing me food and clothes and checking in on me. He's kind and patient, listening to me talk and offering words of comfort. I know I can trust him, and I'm grateful for his help.

As the days turn into weeks, I start to feel a little better. I still have bad days, and I still have nightmares, but I'm learning to cope. I start to explore the woods around the cabin, taking long walks and enjoying the peace and quiet. I even start to write again, pouring my thoughts and feelings onto the page.

One day, Lucifer comes to visit me with news. He tells me that the police have found the body of the man I killed, and that they're looking for a suspect. He warns me to be careful, and to stay hidden until the coast is clear.

I nod, feeling a fresh wave of fear wash over me. But I know that I have to be strong, and that I have to keep fighting. I'm not sure what the future holds, but I know that I have to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Lucifer's visits become less frequent as time goes on, and I start to feel more and more isolated in the cabin. I spend my days writing and reading, trying to distract myself from the memories of that night. I also start to explore the woods around the cabin, finding solace in nature.

One day, while I'm out on a walk, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around, expecting to see Lucifer or maybe a deer, but instead I see a man. He's tall and muscular, with dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place where I know him from.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"I'm Ares," he says, taking a step towards me. "I've been looking for you."

I take a step back, feeling a surge of fear. "How did you find me?"

"Lucifer told me where you were," he says. "I had to see for myself if it was true."

I feel a pang of betrayal. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he knows I care about you," Ares says, taking another step towards me. "And because he knows I can protect you."

I shake my head, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I don't need protection. I just need to be left alone."

Ares looks at me with a mixture of concern and frustration. "You can't run from this forever, Moxie. You need to face what happened and move on."

I glare at him, feeling a surge of anger. "You don't know what happened. You don't know what I did."

Ares takes another step towards me, his eyes locked on mine. "I know enough. And I know that you're not a bad person, Moxie. You made a mistake, but you don't have to let it define you."

I feel a lump form in my throat, and before I know it, I'm crying. Ares wraps his arms around me, holding me tight as I sob into his chest. For the first time in weeks, I feel like maybe everything will be okay. Maybe I can move on from this after all.

Ares holds me for a while, letting me cry it out. When I finally pull away, he wipes my tears away with his thumb and looks at me with concern. "Come on, let's go back to the cabin," he says gently.

We walk back in silence, and when we get there, Ares makes us some tea. We sit at the small table, and he looks at me expectantly. "So, are you going to tell me what happened?" he asks.

I pause, gathering my thoughts, and then ask him, "Wait, what did Lucifer tell you?" He replies, "Nothing, he only told me that you did some bad things, and that's it."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The memories of that night come flooding back, and I recount the events, leaving out the details of the sexual assault. I tell him about the party, the man, the alcohol, and the aftermath. When I finish, he simply says, "So...?" with a furrowed brow.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest, before admitting, "Em... we had sex." The words hang in the air, and Ares's face contorts with shock and anger. He erupts, "WHAT?" as he jumps to his feet, sending the chair clattering to the floor. I plead, "Wait, Ares, calm down." But he steps towards me, his eyes blazing with fury.

He grabs me by the throat, his grip tight and unyielding, and shouts, "You just admitted to cheating on me!" I can feel the panic rising within me as I struggle to speak, my voice barely audible, "I-.. Ares." The disgust in his eyes is palpable as he accuses me, "How could you?" He releases his grip, and I gasp for air, feeling the weight of his words crushing me.

He storms towards the door, leaving me behind, and I call out in desperation, "Ares! Stop, I was raped, OKAY?" The room seems to freeze, and he halts in his tracks, turning back with a bewildered expression. I continue, my voice shaking, "Well, almost... He attempted to rape me, and I ended up killing him. I've been hiding in the cabin ever since." The words spill out of me, and I can see the confusion and disbelief etched on his face.

Ares stands frozen in the doorway, staring at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief. I can see the anger in his eyes slowly being replaced by confusion and concern.

"What do you mean, he tried to rape you?" he asks, taking a step towards me.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I mean, he didn't take no for an answer. He was strong, and I couldn't fight him off. I thought I was going to die. But then... I saw the bottle on the counter and I hit him with it. I didn't mean to kill him, but I couldn't let him hurt me anymore."

Ares walks back over to the table and sits down heavily. "Moxie, why didn't you tell me this before?" he asks, his voice softer now.

"I was scared," I admit. "I didn't want you to look at me differently. I didn't want you to think I was some kind of monster."

Ares reaches out and takes my hand. "Moxie, you're not a monster. You were defending yourself. You did what you had to do to survive."

I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "I just wish I had handled it differently," I say, my voice breaking. "I wish I hadn't gone to that party. I wish I hadn't drunk so much. I wish I had fought harder."

Ares squeezes my hand. "You can't blame yourself for what happened. It's not your fault. And you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, no matter what."

I look up at him, feeling grateful for his support. "Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ares stands up and pulls me into a hug. "You're going to be okay," he says, his voice soothing. "We'll get through this together."