baby bellinger / corey seager

32

  I finally turned my phone off after what was probably the 100th text the boys had sent me. I don't usually drink, and I never drink enough to get drink drunk because I never wanted to be anything like my mom. That was before though; this is now. Everything Corey had said was planting itself into my brain and I wanted to get my mind off of it.

   I was two beers and four vodka shots in when someone sat next to me. He looked familiar, extremely familiar. "Cloe, I haven't seen in forever." Okay so apparently this dude and I had met before. I went to say something, but all that I could spit out were incoherent mumbles.

   God damn it, Cloe, why do you have to be such a lightweight?

   "How about we pick off where we left off? Right before your brother walked in."

   It clicked. I knew exactly who this was. He picked me up and started walking out the door of the bar. I tried kicking and squirming out of his arms, but he wasn't budging. He put me in the back seat of his car and drove off. Everything had happened too fast, and now I was stuck. Stuck with the guy that had already tried to rap me.

   My mind felt like it was clouded and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I was completely clueless as to what I was meant to do next. How would the boys find out where I am? Surely they'd come looking for me by the morning if they haven't been already... right? God, I wish I hadn't turned my phone off. If it were on the boys would have been able to track me off of it.

   We stop outside of a hotel where the car is parked. He pulled me out of the car by my arms and held me tightly to him while we walked through the parking lot, past the lobby, up the elevator, and through the hallway. He whispered violent threats of what was to happen to me if I look up from the ground, even if it were just for a second.

   The tears were finally falling. I was scared... screw that- I was fucking terrified. I thought he was gone; I figured he was old news, but here he was, right next to me. The guy that almost raped me when I was 17; the man that was about to rape me now.

   Bryce Harper: the face of baseball, MVP, ROY, Allstar right fielder for the Washington Nationals, the man that had sexually assaulted me four years ago. It was all becoming clear to me now. This was why he had looked so familiar every time I saw highlights or interviews of him. I had hoped, prayed to God, that he would forget me. I never wanted to have to go through what I went through that night, but how was I suppose to prevent it now?

   We finally got to what I'm guessing was his room. He shoved me roughly on the bed before dimming the lights. "Your brother's not here to save you now."