Chapter 8: Chains and Scars

That night, Derek was especially rough, tormenting me every way he could think of.

He took out his frustration on me, pushing boundaries until I wanted to scream. The hotel room was dark, the only light from the TV playing late-night reruns. He didn’t care if I cried, didn’t care if I begged him to stop.

He blindfolded me with a dark blue tie, his hot breath teasing my ear.

The fabric was soft, the knot tight enough to make me nervous. He whispered in my ear, his breath hot and heavy. I shivered, wishing I could disappear.

"Guess what position Caleb and Natalie are using next door?"

His words were meant to humiliate, to remind me of my place. I clenched my fists, biting my cheek until I tasted blood, refusing to let him see me cry.

In the darkness, every touch became more intense. His hands roamed over me, making me shudder.

I felt exposed, vulnerable. Every nerve ending was on fire, every touch a reminder of how powerless I was. I tried to block it out, focusing on the sound of the TV, the hum of the air conditioner, anything but him.

Ashamed, I bit my lip, trying not to make a sound.

I tasted blood, the pain grounding me. I told myself it would be over soon—I just had to survive another night.

At first, I could grit my teeth and endure.

I counted the seconds, focusing on my breathing. I tried to imagine I was somewhere else—anywhere but here. But the pain kept dragging me back.

But eventually, instinct broke me down.

My body betrayed me, responding to his touch even as my mind screamed for escape. I hated myself for it, hated that he could make me feel anything at all.

In a haze, I heard Derek unlocking his phone, and my blood ran cold.

I froze, terror washing over me. I knew what was coming next, and I wanted to scream.

"Are you fucking recording again?"

I shouted, panicking, struggling to tear off the tie.

I thrashed, trying to free myself. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline surging. I wouldn’t let him do this to me again.

He pinned my hands with one hand, laughing in a muffled voice. "Relax, it’s just for me. I’ll delete it after I watch."

His laugh was low, cruel. I didn’t believe him—not for a second. The last time he said that, the video ended up on his laptop, a secret weapon he could use whenever he wanted.

He’d said the same thing back then.

In that filthy equipment closet, Derek brought a gang of buddies, pinned me to the floor, and groped me all over.

The smell of sweat and dust still haunted my dreams. They held me down, their laughter echoing off the metal shelves. I felt small, powerless, broken.

He sat in front of me, setting up a camera to record every moment of my humiliation.

The red light blinked in the darkness, a silent witness to my pain. I wanted to scream, to fight, but I was outnumbered. All I could do was survive.

To this day, that video is still on his computer.

A chain that keeps me shackled.

I thought about smashing his laptop, about running and never looking back. But I knew he’d punish me. The video was his insurance—a constant reminder that I could never truly be free.