AN: So, here it is, since I had free time (no I didn't, I just prefer writing to doing things I'm actually supposed to do).
"I should have never abandoned Stefan," she thought while Lucas was pressing his sweaty palm against her tired lips, grinding his body against hers, while his fingers kept cupping her right thigh, "I promised him. I promised I'll be with him forever, him and only him. Not anyone else," she closed her eyes as the thoughts invaded her mind. "I should have never come here. I should have went to the game. Maybe this is my fault. This is how life decided to take its revenge on me for breaking a promise to someone who always kept his. One person that never left me," thoughts were making her sleepy, but they just kept coming and coming.
She felt tired, so tired, and so sleepy. Her once tensed muscles started relaxing and her trapped palms between their chest, once pushing him away, just lingered there uselessly. She was sure her head would fall on her shoulder if he wasn't holding his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. What was happening to her? Was she giving up? She knew better than that, she knew better than just letting someone take advantage of her in any way. She knew that, and her mind was screaming at her to fight, but her body just wouldn't listen.
"Pssst," Lucas whispered, taking his hand from her thigh and caressing her cheek with his finger, "Everything will be okay soon," he said with a soothing voice which only made her more sleepy, and unusually comfortable, "You will relax. You will even want this," a devilish smirk appears on his face, a smirk that made her throat tighten. She wants to slap him, plunge her nails in his skin, kick him until he loses consciousness, and worse things which were stopped by his voice, "As soon as the drugs kick in."
Her eyes fly wide open in alert.
"Do you know why I hate college parties?" he asks casually, like they're having a lighthearted conversation, "Everyone keep drinking from those plastic cups, which get left everywhere, so you drinking from someone else's cup is bound to happen," he frowns, making a disgusted face, one she would be making right now if the lines of her face weren't so unwilling when it comes to obeying her brain, "It's unsanitary. These small, private parties give you a chance to assign everyone their cup, so you know from which cup who will be drinking."
She rewinds the night in her head, and it's true, her cup has been assigned to her, her name written on it, and she's been drinking from it the whole night.
"This isn't a reflexive action, you see," his words bring her back to reality, "It might come as a shock to you, but I've been thinking about this for quite some time," a crooked smile appears on his face. She always knew he's s scumbag, she just wasn't aware how big of a scumbag he actually is. No one tells you that you should keep away from those who seem to be good guys, since apparently they bring the most trouble. "I thought I will be able to win you over naturally," he huffs at his failure, locking his eyes on hers, directly, for the first time, "But you're a stupid little girl who thinks she's in love and that she found everything she needs at the age of 18, so here we are now. This whole party is for you. Well, for us. On the night of the game, so your boyfriend doesn't come looking for you," he presses his palm over her mouth a little harder. "It's really all your fault Elena, this could have been much easier and more pleasurable for both of us, but because you're stupid enough to stay with someone who is so different from you that he might as well be from another planet, I had to drug you," she can see him getting angrier, "Now it will be like fucking a hole in the ground," he laughs, and her whole body twitches.
Her heart travels to her heels, because the pressure she feels on it is an equivalent to someone stomping on it. "Stefan, please," she calls out to him inside of her head once she realizes she's helpless on her own, "Please help me," her eyes fall shut.
"Oh, do you feel sleepy?" he asks, but her eyelids feel to heavy for her to open her eyes, "Don't worry, you won't fall asleep, you will stay awake during the whole thing. Feeling exhausted is one of the effects of the drug, so restraining you would be easier," his lips hover in the close proximity of her neck, which makes her open her eyes a little. His lips fall on her neck, and she releases a silent huff of disgust which crashes against his palm. She wants to scream, but she can't will herself to. Even if she could, she doubts anyone would hear her. His palm would muffle her screams, and those muffled screams would get lost in the music coming from downstairs. He raises his lips from her neck. "Don't you want this, Elena?" he asks disappointingly, or pretending to be disappointed, "I thought you love fucking," he smirks.
Stefan. Stefan. Stefan. Stefan.
His name is the only thing on her mind. She realizes that she would probably call for him even on the verge of death.
The next thing she knows he's pulling her away from the door with one hand, while his other hand is still pressed on her mouth. It's easy to pull her, she feels like she weights nothing. Like she's made out of rubber. She lost all of her energy, she can even feel her mind falling asleep. Is this how drug works? First your body falls asleep, then your mind, and in the end all you can feel is pleasure coming from a natural human instinct. Is it really so easy to rape someone, practically making it seem like they want it, by slipping something undetectable in their drink? No one wants this, no one asks for this. She sure as hell never did.
She is in a loving relationship, she is happy, college is going great, she talks with her friends often after fearing she might lose contact with them. Everything is perfect.
Everything was perfect.
Will Stefan ever want to touch her after this? Will he count it as cheating? Will she be able to prove to him that it wasn't? How? No one knows what's going on, no one heard her scream because she didn't, because she can't. There will be no bruises on her body because it's so easy to control it in a state like this. She wonders how long will the trace of the drug stay in her system. That would be her only proof, even though it proves nothing. Kids at college do drugs all the time. With his insecurities, he will think she cheated on him. He will break up with her.
She wonders, if she tells him she was raped, would he believe her?
"Of course he would," she tells herself, "If you told him you held a shooting star in your hands he would have believed you."
He throws her on the bed and falls on it right next to her, not removing his hand from her mouth, making it harder for her to breathe. His other hand goes under her dress, his fingers clinging on the hem of her panties, yanking them down her legs. She tries to kick her legs, but she fails to do any harm to him. She doesn't even make it harder to him, tearing her panties off.
She becomes stone cold, and even though she can't feel any of her muscles tightening, in her head her body is rock hard because of this unpleasant experience. Stefan always does it slowly, marveling at her body, devouring her with his look.
But Lucas is not Stefan, and no one else will ever be like Stefan, and after this, the experience won't ever be the same.
She manages enough strength to close her legs, making it harder for him to get to her private areas. But this only makes him laugh.
"You talk big," he says through silent, but maniacal laughter, "But when it comes to actions.." he smirks at her.
He parts her legs with easiness, lifting her dress up her waist and exposing her lower body. "Do you really think you can dress like this.." his open palm falls on her right leg, his fingers going up, over her knee to her thigh, which he squeezes with so much force she wants to scream. Not moan in pleasure, but scream in pain. "And not provoke men to do something like this?"
Is it really her fault? Has she been teasing him unknowingly? Maybe she changed too much, maybe she changed for the worse. Maybe she would be better of if she stayed that quiet, shy girl next door.
He straightens his body in a sitting position, looking her in the eyes. "You dress, talk and act like a little slut," his free hand flies to his zipper, "And I believe little sluts should be punished," he pulls his zipper down, his pants falling down his legs.
He has some problem with removing his underwear so he, just for a moment, removes his hand from her mouth to pull his underwear down. She takes advantage of that situation and finds enough strength in her unwilling body to scream.
His eyes fill with horror, and his open palm lands on her cheek, slapping her so hard that she's sure it will leave a bruise. In pain she finds relief in how the bruise on her cheek could serve as a proof of what he did to her.
"Be quiet!" he screams at her, and she crumbles the sheets with her fingers, every little unexpected sound scaring her. She realizes how full of terror she is, and wonders is that how things are going to be from now on. Is she going to jump at every little, quiet sound in the night?
She whimpers quietly before he muffles her whimpers by putting his palm back on her mouth, and she thinks, "I love you.." closes her eyes, "And I'm sorry."
That scream. It makes his whole body tens, freezes the blood in his veins, buries his feet in the ground. He knows that voice, all to well. He just never heard it sounding so desperate.
He looks at Alisson who's looking at him confused and full of wonder, but before she gets a chance to say anything he's on the stairs, climbing to the second floor in a hurry.
You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you just know something bad is about to happen, and you can't do anything to stop it, just watch the tragedy struck? That's how Stefan felt as he climbed on the second floor, running towards the room from which the muffled screams kept coming.
He felt like he's falling apart, like he won't be able to reach the door before his legs give out on him. The feeling of helplessness was making him desperate, as he couldn't figure out from where the feeling came from.
He just knew something bad is going to happen. Is happening.
"No!" he heard a silent scream coming out of the room in front of which he was standing, "Please don't, please don't do this to me," she begged. Her voice was weak and desperate, like she's begging for something she knows she can't have, and he never wanted to hear her beg for anything like that.
His hand falls on the doorknob and he turns it, but the door do not fall open. "Elena?" he asks, swallowing her name as his throat tightens.
Everything on the other side of the room stops moving, and every sound falls into silence. Everything except her broken, silent, questionable way in which she says his name. "Stefan?"
In his name she finds relief, salvation, choice and freedom which are rightfully hers, but taken away from her by force.
He hits the door with his closed fist. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing happens.
She cries out his name in such desperation which breaks his heart.
He kicks the door with his foot. Once. Twice. The last time he uses too much force and they fall open.
He sees him on top of her. His pants around his knees. Both of his hands pressed on the bed next to her head. His eyes lock with Stefan's, and Stefan notices fear in them. There's a lump in his throat. His look shifts to her. She's not even looking at him. Her eyes are closed, her face pale and covered with tears. Tears are leaking from her eyes, down her cheeks, from her chin, falling into her neck. Her lips are parted slightly, and she's choking on her own tears and screams. Her panties are wrapped around her ankles, and her dress is lifted, wrapping around her waist.
Seeing her like that is like having thousand of darts being thrown into his eyes at the same time.
He looks at Lucas and his whole being gets filled with anger and disgust. He moves towards him with a running step, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and moving off of Elena. He holds him with both hands, so high in the air that his feet are not even touching the ground. He slams him into a wall, fire burning in his eyes.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stefan slams him into the wall several times before stopping, giving him a chance to respond, which is much more than he deserves.
Blood starts pouring out of mouth, but somewhere inside of his body he finds enough strength to smirk. "Sharing," he answers smugly.
This only infuriates Stefan more, so he slams his fist into Lucas's face. "I'm going to kill you!" he screams at him, punching him numerous times until his fist becomes sore, "I'm going to fucking kill you!"
"Stefan," she says his name desperately, quietly, and he stops what he's doing to look at her.
Their eyes meet, and his look locks with hers, wanting to take all of her pain and sadness and make it his own.
His Elena, his beautiful Elena. Her hair is all messed up, some strains glued to her cheeks, covered with tears. Her eyes are not full of life and happiness anymore, quite the opposite, they're empty, full of nothingness. Her lips are sharp and dry, and there's a damp in her cheek, yellowish blue circle hiding behind the redness, telling him she got bruised pretty badly. Her arms and legs are shaking, and they're covered with goosebumps. Her panties are still wrapped around her ankles, and her dress is still around her waist.
This it not about him. Or about Lucas. It's about Elena.
He lets go of Lucas and he, surprised, falls on the ground. Stefan, before he leaves, crouches down and says, "If I see you as much as casting a look in her direction again, I swear to God, you won't know what hit you," he gets on his feet, and as he's ready to leave, Lucas opens his mouth.
"Is that a threat?" he spits out blood.
Stefan turns around, biting his lower lip. "No, that's a promise," and he kicks him in the stomach before he turns to leave in Elena's direction.
He sits next to her, stroking her arms with his palms as she weeps. "It's okay, you're going to be okay," he tells her while trying to get her panties up her legs. He puts his hands under her legs, and her hands crawl up his body like a child's when he's asking for help. He pulls her up into his embrace and carries her out of the room.