Hope in Humanity Restored

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The next few hours are a complete blur as you might imagine, so bear with me as I recall the few events I can. I'm not sure how much of what I think I saw actually happened, but I'll do my best to decipher that.

The first thing I remember is Chad finding me. I felt his hands on me, but I can't be sure what he did to me. This just pisses me off more than anything. I'm pissed at him for being such a dick and I'm pissed at myself for breaking the one rule for party-going: don't ever take an open drink from anyone. I didn't think anything of it since it was from a wine bag, but I guess he did something to the cup without me looking, or the wine itself was laced with drugs. I don't know; either way, I'm an idiot for taking the drink.

The next thing I vaguely remember is an angry British man yelling at someone. I can only assume this was Harry, but I don't know if he made it in time and I don't know if Chad decided to put up a fight against him. I hope not, I hope Harry didn't have to deal with anything more than just telling that ass-wipe to fuck off. Regardless of how it happened, I remember being taken from the lawn and put in someone's car. I think Harry was with me, but I can't be sure.

After that, I don't remember anything. I don't know how much time has passed between me passing out and now, but I begin to feel some relief as I am regaining human functionality again. To my horror, when I open my eyes, I see my mother sitting in the chair by my bed. Oh my fuck, who called her? Am I in the hospital? I conclude that this assumption is correct based on the fact that my finger has one of those clippy things on it to monitor my heart.

"Camryn?" my mother says quietly, her voice shaky and panicked. Shit, I didn't want to have to deal with this yet. But alas, it is too late to try and pretend to be asleep.

"Mom–" my throat is dry and I am unable to speak properly. I try to sit up and clear my throat as she rises from the chair and moves to my bedside. "I'm so sorry, I– that asshole, he–"

"Honey, don't apologize," my mother says, smoothing my hair back. "That nice boy told us what happened. I'm just glad you're okay." So Harry was here? Okay, that's good that I can remember at least that. How am I ever going to be able to thank him, though? I was trying to play Sadie's game with him all night like an idiot, and all along, I thought he was the horrible one. I mean, clearly I was wrong about that one because look at where I am. Harry may be a player, but he proved himself last night to have more character than I gave him credit for.

"I'm going to go downstairs and get your father. He's been so worried about you," she says quietly, pulling her hand away from my hair.

She turns to walk away, but I grab her arm to stop her, "Wait, mom. Is– is he mad?"

My mother smiles at me sympathetically, "Of course he is, but not at you. None of this was your fault." With that, she leaves the room and I am left to my thoughts. Last night I would have given anything to be able to think like I am able to now, but now that my parents are here, I feel so guilty about this whole situation that I wish I couldn't. I wish I could go back to sleep and that all of my problems would go away. But alas, that is not how this day is going to go.

My parents return and we have generally the same conversation as I did with my mom. They both assure me that they're not mad, though I can see in their faces that they are disappointed in me. The doctor comes in at some point to talk to us about my health and recovery. Apparently, that useless dick gave me enough Rohypnol to be considered an overdose and that, had it not been for Harry, I most definitely could have died. At this, I want to kick myself in my non-existent nuts for my stupidity. Literally two weeks into college and I've already been drugged and almost raped. I'll be surprised if my parents let me stay at this school.

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