Kim was crying when she ran into the closet.
She closed the door quietly, but forcefully behind her. She inhaled deeply and slid to the ground, the tears flowing freely. She drew her knees into her chest and sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving. Her skirt splayed out around her. It was torn, as was the green crinoline underneath it. A few locks of her wavy brown hair had fallen free of her updo and settled over her shoulders.
She sat there, listening as people passed. They were all laughing and chatting, as though nothing had happened. But to them, nothing had. It was just prom. They were just out dancing. They hadn't nearly been raped.
After a little while, she stood. There was a mirror that hung on the opposite wall. She looked into it, pinning back pieces of stray hair, wiping away her smeared makeup. She straightened her shoulders and looked herself square in the eye.
"Hold yourself together, Kimberly. Breathe. You're going to march out of here and call the police. Everything is going to be alright."
And so she did. Or, at least she thought that's what she was going to do.