Author's Notes: This chapter is rated R for descriptive sexual situations and rape. Please do not read if you don't think you can handle it.

*

 The pulsating rhythm and hypnotic lights consumed the ethereal atmosphere of The Danger Room. It held power over the people, drawing them in and having them lose themselves' in its cadence. The young woman entering the Metropolis club was no exception. She danced through the crowds until she ended up at the bar, where she sat and watched the sweaty masses all moving together in time with the never-ending beat. It reminded her of a ritual dance to the ancient gods. Everyone was acting like Armageddon would be coming with the sunrise, and tonight would be the last night of freedom. She wished she could be one of them, but she couldn't lose herself like that. What if she could never get back? Thinking twice, she decided maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

 After consuming a few rounds of tequila shots, she embraced the controlled chaos. It wasn't long before she felt the effects of the alcohol, and mixed together with adrenaline, it could only lead to disaster. The name of the club was flashing in neon lights on the ceiling high above, and she mused about the appropriateness of the name. She could practically taste the danger on her tongue, and never had it been so sweet.

 She danced to the techno music for what seemed like forever, and her body was feeling the effects. It demanded rest and water, but her mind refused to stop moving. She could never stop even if she wanted to. It felt like lava had replaced her blood, and it was exhilarating. Never before had she experienced this side of herself; a part of her had actually forgotten what had happened a mere month ago. But then again, it was only a small part. She knew she would never completely forget, no matter how free she felt.

 Someone's body was pressing firmly against her; their arms snaking around her waist. She leaned a little into them before turning around. Dazzling hazel orbs bored into her green ones. He was rather tall and athletic, with dark hair and a devilish smirk. His smirk reminded her of someone else, but she quickly pushes that thought aside and smiles up at the young man.

 "What's your name?" She yells over the loud noise surrounding them.

 "Hunter," He yells back, leaning in so she could hear better. "And you are…?"

 "Chloe."

 And there's no more words exchanged from then on. They just spend the night dancing, hazel never leaving green. Even after the club closes in the wee hours of the morning and they leave together, they don't speak. It's not necessary, for they both know what is going to happen. It's just too bad things never go as planned.

*

 Everything was blurred together until all Chloe saw was colors. The darkness of the night, the white of her shirt, the blue of her jeans, the hazel of his eyes, the red of the pounding inside her skull. It was all faded together to become one. The sounds were vaguer, with laughing, crying, and silence filling the voids where the colors ended. She wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol in her system or some type of drug she hadn't remembered taking that was responsible for her current state. All she knew was the urge to vomit was increasing. She attempted to move from whatever position she was in, and was surprised to fall on a carpeted floor. Looking up slowly, the ceiling fan began to come into focus, although it hurt her head to watch it spin round and round. She attempted to stand up, but finding it impossible, she managed to crawl. A harsh light was blinding her, yet she traveled in its direction as if it were salvation. Finding it to be a bathroom and as close to heaven as she'll ever get, she noiselessly shut the door and lay down on the icy tile. It felt so good compared to the burning her limbs felt. She needed water to cool herself, and her dry throat reminded her it still needed that drink.

 Pushing herself up using the sink, she splashed lukewarm water over her face several times and put her lips to the faucet. Turning it off, she looked around at her surroundings and caught a reflection of a scared little girl in the shattered mirror. Studying it like a piece of art, she noticed her black eyeliner was running down her red cheeks and her blonde locks were dirty and disheveled. She was shocked at how ghostly white she looked and how thin she had become. It was as if she was looking at a stranger, and it frightened her to no end.

 The churning in her stomach increased tenfold, and she yielded to the great porcelain of the toilet. There was a metallic taste to whatever she flushed, and the possibility of being drugged entered her mind. Washing out her mouth and scrubbing furiously at her exposed skin with a paper towel, memories that are better left forgotten resurfaced.

 "Hunter," She called out pleadingly through the thick haze in her mind. "Stop. Please. I changed my mind. Hunter!"

 Either he refused to listen or didn't hear her, for he did not stop. His hands traveled possessively down her body, reaching the waistband of her blue jeans. She pulled away, but he quickly pulled her back to him. His hand tightened his grip on her arm, leaving a mark. She struggled weakly to escape his grasp, but he was much stronger. Pushing her down onto the mattress, he attacked her lips with his own. She couldn't breathe, her arms wailing up in front of her, trying to push him off. Finally he lifted his head up, hazel glaring down at her, and he smirked. That same smirk she had found so appealing only hours before. It was as if he was laughing at her, and it was infuriating. Mustering up what little energy she had, she managed to push him to the side a little. It wasn't much, but it was something. She scrambled to get off the bed, but he was faster. He was on top of her petite form before she could even blink. And then he was undoing the zipper on her jeans, running his hands over her thighs. She screamed. His hand came up to clamp over her mouth, and she bit it.

 "Fuck!" He yelled, rage now evident in his once-calm demeanor.

 He slapped her hard across the face, causing tears to slip out of her closed eyes. His hands pulled off her white shirt before he ripped off her panties, pushing himself inside. She trembled violently, the force of his entry hurting her insides to no extent. He pumped several times, nausea hitting her in waves each time. After what seemed like eternity, he finally rolled off of her and fell asleep. The damn bastard fell asleep. She forced herself to look at him so she could remember details for the police. Never before had she seen something so repulsive. Never before had she felt so much hate. All she was seeing was red. She actually felt like she could kill him. She believes she would have, if it not had been for her passing out.

 Chloe found herself hunched over the toilet again as the scenes played in her mind like out of a movie. Only it was all too real. She opened the door to the bathroom slowly and quietly in fear he was still there. Thankfully he wasn't. She quickly shoved on her clothes and ran out of the motel room as fast as her legs would allow, and then she was running. She was in a part of town she didn't recognize, but it didn't matter. She needed to be as far away from that room and that bed and those memories as possible.

 A church appeared in her view, and she ran up the stone steps to its door. Walking down the aisle hesitantly, she was thankful no one else was there. Walking into the confessional, she made the sign of the cross and bowed her head in shame.

 "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."