I woke up dizzy, the room tilting slightly as I tried to focus. My vision was blurred, the edges of everything too soft, too unreal—like I hadn't fully come back yet. My body ached in a way that felt deep and exhausting, the kind of soreness that made it hard to tell where one pain ended and another began.

  Elena had gone too far st night.

  Way too far.

  The memory came back in fragments—raised voices, the feeling of being trapped, the sound of my own crying that I couldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. I swallowed hard and forced myself not to think about it anymore.

  It was over now.

  That was what mattered.

  If I could just get through the morning—make her breakfast, do everything right—then she'd leave for work. I'd have a few hours to breathe. To exist without constantly looking over my shoulder.

  I slid my feet into my slippers and carefully stood, steadying myself before walking toward the bathroom. The hallway felt too quiet, every step echoing in my ears. As I got closer to the door, I slowed.

  I heard her voice.

  Elena was inside the bathroom, talking on the phone. Her tone was light—almost normal—which made my stomach twist. I hesitated just outside the door, unsure whether to announce myself or wait.

  I stood there silently, heart pounding, listening.

  Elena's voice echoed through the thin wall of the apartment. Her words sliced through me like a jagged bde, each sylble dripping with a cold, calcuted malice that I couldn't comprehend.

  My hands trembled as I pressed my ear closer to the wall, hoping—praying—that I'd misheard. But no, this was real. Horribly, sickeningly real.

  "The rest of the girls are on board, right? Good... yeah, Miguel's heading out for a grocery run today. It's the perfect chance. I want you to tear into him, make it hurt so bad he'll never even dream of stepping out of this apartment again. Go fucking wild. I don't care if you push him to the brink, just make sure he's still breathing when you're done. I love him, after all..."

  My stomach churned violently, a wave of nausea smming into me. I pinched my arm hard, the sharp sting confirming this wasn't some twisted nightmare. My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall, my breaths shallow and ragged.

  Why, Elena? Why would you do this to me?

  My mind raced, repying every moment we'd shared, every ugh, every touch—how could it all lead to this? Betrayal cwed at my insides, and I felt the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat.

  I wanted to scream, to vomit, to disappear. My own girlfriend, the person I trusted most, was orchestrating something so vile, so inhuman.

  She wanted me broken, humiliated... gang-raped.

  "Just don't fuck this up and get caught, alright? I'm shelling out ten grand for this, and honestly, you fuckers should be the ones paying me for a shot at him. Pathetic. Call me the second it's over. I want every detail... yeah, bye."

  Her voice cut off, the abrupt silence suffocating. My vision blurred as tears stung my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. Not yet. I couldn't.

  I had to figure out what to do, how to get out of this trap she'd set. But the weight of her words pressed down on me, crushing any flicker of hope.

  I was nothing to her but a toy to be shattered for her amusement.

  My whole body shook as I forced myself toward the kitchen, muscle memory taking over. Do something. Anything. I cracked eggs with trembling hands, the sound too loud in my ears, my heartbeat roaring like it was trying to escape my chest.

  If I stayed still, I'd panic. If I panicked, I'd break.

  Just get through the morning.

  The stove clicked as I turned it on, the blue fme flickering to life, but my thoughts were already elsewhere—on the clock, on the door, on the moment she would finally leave. As soon as she was gone, I'd pack my things. I didn't care if I forgot half of them. Clothes were repceable. I wasn't.

  I heard the bathroom door open.

  Every muscle in my body locked.

  Her footsteps were light, almost cheerful, and then her arms slid around me from behind. I flinched despite myself. Her chin rested on my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, and I had to fight the urge to gag.

  My skin crawled, every instinct screaming at me to pull away, to run, to do anything but stand there.

  "Don't bother, sweetie," she said, her voice coated in sugar. "I'll just grab a bagel on the way to work. Take the morning off... you need it."

  The words sounded kind. They weren't. They felt like a leash loosening just enough for me to think I was free.

  "Alright..." I murmured, my voice hollow.

  I turned off the stove immediately, my hands moving faster now, desperate. I walked past her toward the bedroom, my thoughts racing—backpack, documents, phone charger, anything that proved I existed outside of this apartment.

  Then she stepped into my path.

  My heart dropped into my stomach.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, her tone light, expectant.

  I knew what she wanted. I hated that I knew.

  I leaned in, wrapped my arms around her, pressed my lips to hers one st time. The contact made my stomach churn. It felt like lying with my entire body, like betraying myself just to survive a few more minutes.

  "I'll see you ter..." she said with a wink, already turning away.

  The door closed behind her with a soft, final click.

  I stood there frozen, listening.

  Her footsteps faded.

  The elevator dinged.

  Silence.

  My knees nearly gave out.

  I exhaled a breath I felt like I'd been holding for weeks, not days. My chest burned, my hands shaking violently now that I didn't have to hide it. I walked into the bedroom and shut the door, leaning my forehead against it for just a second.

  This was it.

  I wasn't her boyfriend.

  I wasn't her possession.

  I wasn't staying.

  I grabbed my bag and started packing, fast and careless, my movements frantic but determined. Whatever I could carry would have to be enough.

  Because staying would kill me.

  ——

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