When I finally woke up in the tub, the water was ice-cold and my skin was wrinkled like an old lady's. My whole body felt heavy, like I'd been underwater for hours. I washed off quickly, just wanting to get dry and crawl into bed.
I wrapped my robe around me and walked to the bathroom mirror.
My reflection almost scared me.
My face was so pale I looked like I could've been lying next to Megan. Dark circles sat under my eyes like bruises. My blue eyes—usually bright and full of life—were now a dull, stormy blue. You could see the sadness sitting in them like a weight.
I brushed my teeth slowly, staring at myself like I didn't recognize the girl in the mirror. When I finished, I turned toward the door, ready to go to my bedroom and collapse on my king-size bed.
I didn't make it that far.
The image of Megan's naked, lifeless body slammed into my mind so hard I stumbled. The alley. The cold. Her skin. Her eyes that would never open again.
My chest tightened. My breath caught. My legs gave out.
I collapsed onto the cold bathroom floor, my back hitting the cabinet as my hands shook uncontrollably. The room spun. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I couldn't breathe.
And then everything inside me broke open.
FLASHBACK
She remembered being small. Too small. The house too quiet. Her brother's shadow in the doorway. The way her body froze even when she didn't understand why.
She didn't forget because of confusion. She didn't forget because of fear. She forgot because remembering meant accepting the truth—that someone she trusted, someone who was supposed to protect her, was the one who hurt her.
Her sister noticed first. The flinching. The crying at night. The way Molly avoided being alone.
One night, her sister asked what was wrong. And Molly finally told her.
Whispers followed. Arguments behind closed doors. Her brother being sent away.
Everyone said she was "safe now."
But Molly didn't feel safe. Not then. Not ever.
The anger came next. Angry at herself. Angry at him. Angry at the silence that settled over the house like dust. She fought with her parents, snapped at her sister, pushed everyone away because she didn't know how to exist without fear.
And then came the night everything shattered again.
Rain hammered the windshield as her family drove down the dark highway. Her mother kept glancing nervously at the road, telling her father to slow down. Molly sat in the backseat, arms crossed, still raw from another argument she didn't even fully understand.
Headlights smeared across the wet asphalt.
Then a girl ran across the road.
Barefoot. Soaked. Wearing only a bra and underwear. Bruises covered her body. Her hair stuck to her face. Her eyes wide with terror.
Her father jerked the wheel.
The car spun.
The world flipped.
Glass exploded around them. Metal screamed. Her sister's scream cut off mid-sound. Molly's body slammed into the seatbelt, then the roof, then the side.
When the car finally stopped, everything was upside down.
Smoke. Rain. Silence.
Twelve-year-old Molly crawled out through broken glass, hands shaking, breath ragged. She called for her mom. Her dad. Her sister.
No one answered.
She stumbled back onto the wet road, staring at the twisted car.
The girl stood in the rain, trembling so hard her knees knocked together. Her arms were wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold her body together. Her eyes darted everywhere—the road, the trees, the darkness behind her—like she didn't know where she was or how she got there. She wasn't looking at Molly. She wasn't looking at anything. She looked terrified, confused, and completely out of her body, like she was still running even though her legs had stopped.
Molly couldn't look away.
The distant wail of sirens grew louder, cutting through the storm. Red and blue lights flickered against the wet asphalt as the police cars approached.
Molly blinked—just once.
And when she looked back, the girl was gone.
No footprints. No movement. Nothing but rain hitting the empty road.
By morning, her parents and sister were dead.
And Molly was in the system.
Foster home after foster home. Strangers after strangers. Some kind. Most not.
She was hurt again. Used. Ignored. She learned to survive, not to live.
Years passed like that until she finally ran.
She thought freedom would feel better.
It didn't.
She was homeless. Cold. Hungry. Alone.
And then came the night she remembered too well.
Molly remembered every detail of what happened that night. The fear when the man grabbed her. The panic when she realized no one was coming. The pain when he struck her numerous times. The way her body gave out after one final blow. The way everything went black.
She woke up on the cold ground, wearing nothing but a bra and underwear, bruised and hurting, wishing she could disappear.
She got up anyway.
She walked for hours, dazed, broken, barely holding herself together.
Until she saw it.
Fantasy.
Neon lights glowing in the dark. Music thumping through the walls. Warm air spilling out every time the door opened.
She stumbled inside.
And Megan saw her.
Megan moved toward her instantly, like gravity. She wrapped her jacket around Molly's shoulders, her touch gentle and sure. Her voice was soft, steady, like she'd done this a hundred times and would do it a hundred more.
Megan was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at. Dark hair that curled at the ends. Warm brown eyes that saw straight through the mess. A smile that felt like a promise. She smelled like vanilla and something sweet Molly could never name.
Molly felt something she hadn't felt in years.
Safe.
Megan gave her water. Food. A place to sit. A place to breathe.
She didn't ask what happened. She didn't push. She just stayed.
And from that night on, Megan was more than a friend.
She was home.
BACK TO PRESENT
The memory ripped away, and I was back on the bathroom floor, gasping for air. Tears streamed down my face. My hands trembled violently.
I crawled into the tub and turned on the cold water, letting it ground me until I could breathe again.
When I finally stood up, dried off, and walked into my bedroom, I felt like a ghost.
I didn't even hear the doorbell until the third ring.
I opened the door, and Cody pushed past me without a word.
Cody paced back and forth in my living room like a storm trapped in a body. Even though he stripped for random women and sometimes men, Megan was the only girl he ever had eyes for. She was all he talked about, all he thought about. He loved her—anyone could see that.
"What the fuck, Molly? Why didn't you call me? I thought we were friends. Megan dies and you can't even fucking call me?" he yelled.
I snapped out of my thoughts and stared at him, unsure what to say.
"Stop staring at me and answer me, Molly! Fuck, man—who did this to her? How could anyone kill her? She was the sweetest girl I ever met."
"I don't know," I whispered. "I found her like that… her lifeless body just there for the world to see."
He grabbed my shoulders, one hand gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. His dark brown eyes were a storm of anger and grief.
"God dang it, Molly… what am I gonna do without her? Answer me. Please. For the love of Texas, I need answers."
"I can't," I stammered. "I don't know."
He pulled me into a tight hug, and for a moment we both just cried. When he finally let go, he dropped onto my couch, burying his face in his hands.
"Fuck!" he screamed. "I fucking loved her. And now she's gone. I hope that bastard—whoever he is—rots in hell."
My phone rang. A random number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Officer Daniels. Is this Molly?"
"Yes, this is she."
"We'd like you to come into the station. We have a few more questions."
I agreed and hung up.
When I walked back into the living room, Cody was throwing things.
"What the fuck, Cody? You're breaking my shit!"
"I don't give two shits! It's your fault she's dead, you damn tweaker!"
He started toward me.
I backed up, heart pounding. My back hit the wall. He trapped me with his arms.
He slammed his lips onto mine. I turned my head, but he only kissed me harder.
His breath reeked of alcohol. He was drunk—badly.
My arms were pinned. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
The only thing I could think to do was knee him where the sun doesn't shine.
I bent my knees and drove my leg upward.
He collapsed to the floor, groaning.
I grabbed my purse and keys and ran out of the apartment. The cold night air hit me like a slap. Only then did I realize I had no shoes on and was still in my robe.
I couldn't go to the station like this. I couldn't go back home.
So I went to Candy's.
She opened the door and immediately pulled me into a hug.
"Oh, baby girl… what happened to you?"
"Cody… he was drunk. He—he assaulted me."
Her expression hardened. She wiped my tears and took my hand.
"Come on, baby. Let's get you dressed."
Her walk-in closet was big enough to be another room. I grabbed black tights and an oversized hoodie with a bear on it. She handed me her black-and-white Vans, easy to slip on without laces.
We sat on her bed.
"I can't believe that bastard assaulted you," she said. "We should press charges. The station is right around the corner."
"It's okay, Candy… he was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing. And after everything he's going through… I can understand. People who are hurting tend to hurt others, especially when they're intoxicated."
She gave me a soft smile, the kind that warmed my heart. Candy had always been beautiful to me. I'd always been into her, but no one knew. Not even Megan. And sitting this close to her now, wrapped in her warmth, I couldn't help but admire her — really admire her. The way she looked, the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to glow even in the dim light of her bedroom.
Her natural tan made her grey eyes pop even more, like storm clouds lit from behind. Her lips were full and pink, the kind of soft that made her look like she was always on the edge of a smile. Her button nose gave her this innocent, almost doll-like sweetness that contrasted with the confidence she carried herself with.
Her dark brown hair, almost black, fell in loose waves down her back, the pink highlights catching the light every time she moved. It made her look like she belonged on a magazine cover or walking down a runway, not sitting in a bedroom comforting someone like me.
She had that effortless beauty people tried to copy but never could. Her cheekbones were sharp but feminine, her jawline soft but defined. Her eyebrows were naturally arched, giving her a permanent "I know something you don't" expression.
She was slim but not bony, her curves subtle but impossible to ignore. Her waist dipped in gently, her hips rounding out in a way that made every outfit look like it was tailored just for her. Her legs were long and smooth, the kind that made her look taller than she actually was.
And her presence… God, her presence. Candy didn't just walk into a room, she filled it. Warmth, confidence, softness, danger — all wrapped into one person. She was the kind of beautiful that made you stare before you realized you were staring.
I smiled back and hugged her, craving her warmth.
She kissed the top of my head gently.
When I looked up, she was staring at me. Really staring. There was something in her eyes. Something warm. Something hungry.
She leaned in and kissed me.
Soft. Slow. Gentle. Nothing like Cody. Nothing like the past.
Her hands slid up my sides, under my shirt, her touch warm and careful. I kissed her back, letting myself melt into her.
She laid us down on the bed, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mixing.
I close my eyes allowing her to kiss me, our tongue playing with each other. She lays us down on her bed and I go on top of her never once breaking the kiss. She caresses my breast with her hands. I pull off the hoodie, and she pop my breast in her mouth her tongue playing with my nipple. I slide my hands in her underwear and put three fingers inside of her. As I go faster, she moans telling me to go harder and bites down on my shoulder. She put her hands in my pants and does the same thing.
I take my hand out and lick my fingers tasting her juices. Then take hers out and taste my own. I rip her underwear off and go down on her. I start playing with her clit and she grips my hair hard moaning in pleasure. I go faster inside of her enjoying every bit of it. She moans loudly and all her juices burst inside of my mouth.
We lay in bed breathing heavily. I can't believe we just did that, that defiantly took my mind of things. I stare at the ceiling waiting for my breathing to go back to normal. I turn to my side to face her, and she does the same, with her grey eyes staring at me I can see the lust in her eyes still. I get closer to her our breasts touching each other.
We stayed close afterward, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. When I turned toward her, she turned toward me, her grey eyes still soft and full of something I didn't have the strength to name.
We closed our eyes, letting the darkness take us both.