Hey, all! This is a companion story to my other story, A Silent Voice, so read that if you're confused. I was debating on whether or not I should post this and decided why not. I don't know how often updates will be (or if I even post anything beyond this), but fair warning that this story is... dark. I may change the rating later, but nothing should get too graphic. I am a soft soul incapable of writing anything too terrible without almost crying. Hopefully you lovelies enjoy! ~Shaymie


Why was I here? I wasn't a party girl. I was a stay at home and read books by the fireplace kind of girl. Why had I let Maddie talk me into showing up to Thomas Jefferson's party? There were way too many people here to be healthy. I could barely breathe without catching a whiff of weed or cigarettes, or the sharp stench of alcohol and vomit. This house was huge, but it felt incredibly small with so many people crammed in it. Surely this had to be a fire hazard of some kind.

"Hey there, Lorin!" I looked up as I heard Thomas' familiar drawl and saw that he was walking over to me, a wine glass in hand. His arm was casually draped around Maddie, who was blushing up a storm. I sighed. I was hoping that nobody would see me in this corner, but I was clearly mistaken.

"You look like you could use something to help you relax." Thomas extended the glass to me. I crinkled my nose. We were only fifteen! We shouldn't be drinking or smoking or doing half the shit everyone was doing at this party! I shouldn't have come here. I should have just let Maddie deal with his crush on Thomas by himself. He had asked me to be his wingman-wing girl?-but he had abandoned me almost immediately, which was how I ended up curled up in a corner, desperately trying to not have a panic attack. If I were smart, I would have called someone to pick me up the second Maddie had left me to flirt with Thomas. If I were smarter, I wouldn't have even showed up

I could have stayed at home with Gil and had one of our infamous movie marathons that almost always ended up with popcorn everywhere. I could have gone on a shopping trip with the Schuylers (so desperate was I that I was willing to do something I hated if it meant not being surrounded by total strangers). I could have been hanging out with John, who hadn't wanted me to come to this dumb party in the first place. I could have been anywhere but here.

"Come on, Lorin. One drink won't hurt. I promise Thomas didn't put anything in it," Maddie said, his voice barely audible over the blaring music. I sighed. Peer pressure was a bitch. Now I understood why there were so many PSAs about how to not give into it. Except… I did. And one drink turned into five which turned into who knows how many. I had no idea what half the stuff I drank was, but most of it was deliciously fruity and sent a dull buzz to my head. I could feel my anxiety practically melt away. For once, Thomas had done something helpful. Granted, I still couldn't talk to people, but at least I wasn't just a nervous ball of energy.

I should have known he was trouble the second he walked in. James Reynolds was infamous around this side of town. He went to the fancy private school that half the people at this party went to, and he was known for having a different girlfriend every month. Most of them moved away within a few weeks of their breakup. He was nothing but bad news. I should have known that from the look he gave me across the room. He was practically undressing me with his eyes, his gaze going straight to my chest. He looked away with a cocky smirk and turned to Thomas, his free hand gesturing over to me vaguely. The other one was holding a drink. Because apparently nobody at this party was sober.

And then he started walking over to me. That should have been an immediate red flag. Out of all the people in this crowded room, he decided to go for the one girl who was sitting in the corner, drunkenly trying (and failing) to read a book. Thomas had given up on trying to get me to socialize after I had frozen up in front of at least five of his friends and decided to leave me alone. Which left me in my corner, trying desperately to make the letters swimming around in my vision form words.

I wish I could remember what James had said to me, but most of it was a blur. All I really remembered was him flirting with me. I had never flirted with anyone in my life! I didn't know what the proper etiquette for flirting was. James did most of the talking. Actually, he did all of it. I just stood around, nodding like an idiot as I sipped on whatever fruity drink Thomas had left with me before he went off to do who knows what.

"Do you want to go somewhere private to talk?" he asked, his face inching closer to mine. If I had been sober, I might have had some concerns over the predatory glint in his eyes, or the way he licked his lips as he looked down at me. But I had been drunk off my ass, and desperate to be anywhere but the crowded living room of the Jefferson manor. So I followed him to a spare bedroom (he claimed he stayed over so much, it was basically his), aware of Charles Lee following us. Guess this wasn't going to be so private after all...

Lee locked the door behind us. Before I could even form a coherent sentence, asking what the hell was happening, James' mouth was on mine, his hands forcefully gripping onto my thighs as he lifted me up and threw me onto the bed. It was sure to bruise me later. I tried to push him off of me and looked over at Lee for help. Surely he would do something about this! But he only watched, his eyes darting around the room anxiously.

I managed to catch my breath as James finally pulled away from the kiss, a grin on his face. Somehow I had a feeling that the kiss wasn't all that he had wanted. I could hear people talking just outside the door. Did they have any idea what was going on? Why would they? They were probably just as drunk as me, maybe even worse.

"If you do anything else, I'll scream." Another attempt at pushing him away failed. I opened my mouth to scream, but he smashed his mouth back onto mine before I could do anything. Lee fidgeted nervously in the corner as James started undressing me, starting with my shirt (which he literally ripped off, I could have sworn I heard a tear) and my bra. He started kissing all over my neck and chest. I let out a groan of pleasure as his lips sucked on my neck, even though I shouldn't have. I didn't know him. I should be trying even harder to get him off of me, but my entire body felt like mush. I just laid there and took it. Maybe he would get bored soon and leave me alone.

Except… He didn't. He only took it further than that, murmuring a mixture of sweet nothings and insults in my ear as he kissed and sucked all over my body. Chills went down my spine. This shouldn't have felt so good. It shouldn't have felt amazing. I shouldn't have liked the way his hands ran over my body, occasionally squeezing or scratching me. My breath left my throat when he slapped me for looking away from him.

"Don't look at Charles, you bitch!" he hissed, ramming into me harder. "You're mine, you got that? You're my slut now. Damn, you're beautiful…"

I had lost track of how long he had his way with me. I was too drunk to pay much attention. All I knew was that eventually he had gotten dressed, winking at me as he grabbed my phone and typed his number in. He gave me a final kiss before he left me, a sobbing mess in one of Thomas Jefferson's spare bedrooms. I had managed to pull myself together long enough to call John, asking him to pick me up from the party. I got dressed and left the room, my pride ruined. I had let some stranger take my virginity-no, rape me- at a party. No, not a stranger. James Reynolds of all people. The kind of guy Angelica warned me and her sisters about on a weekly basis.

I drank. I drank until John picked me up. I wanted to forget this entire night, but no matter how much I drank, I couldn't forget the feeling of James on top of me, the feeling of him in me. I could barely walk straight, although I didn't know if that was because of how drunk I was or the thorough fucking I had gotten upstairs.

I should have hated James Reynolds. I should have deleted his number from my phone or called the police or even told John about what had happened, but I didn't. There was a sick, tiny voice inside of me that said that he had only done what he had because he had liked me. After all, he had treated me just like my dad treated my mother.

"Sometimes people hurt you to show their love."