Chapter 1: The Beginning

Brie's POV

I wouldn’t normally classify myself as easily nervous, but for some reason, everything in me screamed for me to turn around and leave. This unnerving sense of boom and destruction clutched my chest and buried itself deep in my soul.

I could blame it on my mother’s constant hovering or the raging guilt I had for giving my dad a hard time with the move, but it felt like something more. I shouldn’t be here, yet my overly worn Converse kept moving toward the grandiose house.

“Breathe, Brie, it’s just a party, nothing you haven’t done before,” I muttered.

Despite my nerves, I raised my manicured hand to knock on the door, but it opened before my knuckles could graze the expensive wood as if knowing my entrance was approaching.

“The party is toward the yard,” the butler on the other side of the door offered.

I nodded and walked through the house, taking in the crisp white furniture of the living room that couldn’t possibly be in daily use. Rich people were strange. Why spend money on things you had no plans of ever using?

“Pointless, isn’t it?” someone asked.

I turned o the guy standing on the stairwell staring at me. Did I say that aloud? I opened and closed my mouth trying to find the right words to say, but a hand wrapped itself around my arm and began tugging me, saving me from my momentary embarrassment.

“I’m so glad you made it.” The shrill voice took me out of my trance.

I blinked a few times before taking in the owner of the voice. It was Noelle, or Ellie as she asked me to call her. I met her and a few other students when I first got to town three days ago. My mother encouraged the “bonding experience” and the only reason I even engaged with them was to stop her insistent chatting about my high school experience.

I was surprised she was still talking to me after our blowout yesterday over my declining to be a cheerleader with her. Cheer was never my thing; plus I hated watching sports, and sitting for an entire game just to do a 2-minute routine sounded worse than going to the dentist for a root canal.

Noelle pulled me toward the back of the house where the screen door opened to reveal a large in-ground pool surrounded by what felt like thousands of kids.

“No one said anything about a pool,” I said nervously.

I prided myself on being a success at everything I started; unfortunately, I had never taken to swimming, or rather swimming had never taken to me.

“You can’t swim?” Noelle asked.

I shook my head. It was the one fact I hated about myself. I had lived in California my entire life, but never once learned how to swim. I had to cross that off my bucket list.

***

So far, the night had been peaceful. Noelle wasn’t entirely horrible to talk to. She wouldn’t have been on my top roster for new friends, but she was funny and definitely knew how to have a good time.

“Looks like your cooler is running low. I’ll get you another one,” Logan offered.

Logan was another kid who would be entering River Prep with me within the upcoming weeks. He seemed sweet enough and took my rejection well. Just as Noelle has attempted to pressure me with cheerleading, Logan tried to get me to date him when the school year began. As kind as Logan seemed, he also wasn’t the one for me.

As foolish as it may seem, I believed in a soul-sucking, earth-shattering love—the type of love that Disney and my mother forced down my throat and into my mind. I had dated just because in the past, but this time around I wanted it to mean more. My parents had met in high school and had been together since. I wanted the same whirlwind love for myself.

“No worries, I’ll get it,” I said, standing from the lawn chair.

I needed the walk anyway. The alcohol was starting to blur my vision and though I walked here, I still needed to walk back home and enter undetected. As understanding as my mother was, even she had a breaking point. I think underage drinking would be the end of her reign as understanding parent of the year.

I entered the house, sliding the backdoor closed behind me. The sun had finally let up and the gentle breeze was tickling the few hairs on my legs. Note to self, must shave my legs before school starts.

The basement steps had remained open. According to Logan, his older brother had a stash of liquor in the basement he had specifically brought for us to use for the party tonight. Their parents’ whereabouts were unknown, but according to Logan, they wouldn’t care if he had the whole town over as long as he stayed out of their way.

Flicking on the basement light, I walked down the steps and approached the large fridge that sat in the far-left corner of the room. The basement was a heavy contrast to the rest of the house—it was the only room that looked normal. It was the one room I had seen so far that resembled somewhere livable.

There was an older brown leather couch in the middle of the floor, an overly used foosball table opposite the refrigerator, and a flat-screen resting atop a stand that was hanging on by a thread. It looked as if someone would breathe wrong and the legs would cave in beneath it.

I opened the fridge, keeping to my original tasks, and grabbed four wine coolers in case anyone else had finished theirs in the short time I had been gone. Turning around, the glass bottles slipped from my hand and fell against the concrete floors, the cold liquid spraying against my sneakers. Without looking down, I prayed it hadn’t been red or blue that sprayed my sneakers—they would be a b*tch to get out.

The three men who caused me to drop the bottles stood unmoving, blocking the exit. Masks covered their face, and I wasn’t sure if this was a horrible prank or if I should let the fear creep into my veins. Regardless of a joke or not, the same dread I felt arriving at the party quickly returned.

“You scared me, and look at this mess,” I said, trying to laugh off the awkward tension in the room.

The men remained unwavering, but the tension grew. Bending down to reach for the glass shards that now littered the floor, a foot from each perpetrator inched closer. This wasn’t a joke.

I gripped the shard in my hands just as gloved hands pushed me to the ground. I screamed, but the sound was useless as a gloved hand covered my mouth and frantic fingers reached for my jeans.

This was not happening.

Things like this didn’t happen to girls like me. I was ordinary. I went to school, went home, and did normal things that normal girls do. I didn’t dress provocatively or lure men in.

This cannot be happening.

I opened my mouth to scream again, but nothing came out. My voice had been stolen and there was nothing I could do to get it back.

I was sinking deeper and deeper into myself, hoping, wishing, and praying for someone to save me. For someone to see this treatment and intervene. For someone to raise their voice.

Did everyone wonder where I went? How long had I been gone? Would help ever come?

**

PRESENT DAY

I lurched forward in my bed, my head drenched with sweat and a mixture of unshed tears. I hated that I still had that nightmare.

Nothing happened that night. Noelle had coincidentally arrived and chased them away with a bat, but the fears of if she hadn’t still followed me.

How far would they have gone? Why had they picked me?

I tossed my feet over the side of the mattress, letting them dangle before sinking my toes into the pink plush rug my mother had insisted I needed for high school. I ran my fingers through my disheveled hair and turned on my lamp.

Grabbing my hair tie, I put my usual loose strands into a ponytail and stared at the digital clock beside my stereo. The red digital numbers started back at 3:24 AM, it was the same time every night since it happened.

Some nights are better than others, but the anniversary of the incident always draws the nightmares out more. Some are more vivid, and others are just subtle, but still statement reminders that I was nearly a victim and that a few minutes later, I might not have been as lucky.

I huffed, got out of bed, and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a zip-up before pulling on a pair of socks and sneakers. I slid my car keys into my pocket and ran downstairs. There was only one place that could distract me and prepare me for yet another school year of torture.