"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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Now conscious, I began to struggle, but this only sparked sick new determination in Josh.
His fingers locked around my wrists like steel handcuffs, and once my arms were pinned above my head I had no real hope of fighting back. The sheer weight difference between us kept my back flat against the mattress. That left me with one other option—but Josh was a step ahead of my mixed-up mind, and clamped his hand harder over my mouth so there was no danger of any sound escaping.
My head was still swimming; the room throbbed and every sound was both loud and distorted, like I was being held underwater. I couldn't focus long enough to meet Josh's eye or read the expression on his face. I was aware of his movements, though, and once he'd shifted position to pin me down with just his body weight it freed the hand on my wrists for something else.
I'd chosen to wear a skirt tonight: it was barely even a challenge.
With the little strength I could find, I squirmed and writhed, trying to push him away. But I could already feel the elastic of my underwear around my knees. It was weird how, even when barely conscious, I could remember exactly what pair I was wearing. My everyday, flesh-colored panties. Comfortable. Full coverage. Straight from a multi-pack.
Josh had laughed at them, once.
From then on I made sure not to wear them when I stayed over.
By this point, my energy was waning, and part of me was tempted to give into the coaxing of a fresh wave of unconsciousness. At least if I blacked out again it would only be my body that had to endure this. Tears were already leaking from my eyes, and I was cursing myself for getting this so wrong. For ending up like this. For letting my guard down. For being taken in by the wrong guy.
No.
Wait.
What was I thinking? Hanna's face flashed across my mind, her stern expression as clear as day. This wasn't my fault—and she would probably slap me if she knew that thought had crossed my mind for even a second. This wasn't some misguided choice on my part. Not a personal failure, nor a moment of carelessness that came with teachable consequences. Even as the fighting strength drained from my muscles, and it became increasingly hard to do anything but lay still against the mattress, there was security in the knowledge that I could never be to blame.
And maybe that's what spurred it on. The sudden clarity to my vision, and the sense of momentary distraction as Josh fumbled with the zipper on his jeans. Whatever it was, something made me seize the opportunity and push him sideways, rolling both of us over until I was on top and in control.
The scuffle disoriented him, and I used the few spare seconds to leap up from the bed and dash toward the door. My underwear drooped down my legs, threatening to trip me up, so I stepped out of it and left it behind. There wasn't time to look back. All that mattered was getting out of there as quickly as possible, and being far enough ahead when Josh inevitably came to follow.
