Chapter 10: The Breakdown
The cold morning air bit at Abby’s legs as she walked, the click of her heels on the pavement too loud in the quiet dawn. Leo’s hoodie swam on her, the cuffs covering her hands, his scent—clean cotton, sleep, and something uniquely male—wrapping around her like a second skin. It was a comfort and a accusation all at once. Her mind was a live wire, buzzing with the afterimage of the dream, the stark warmth of his body beside her.
She pushed into her dorm building, the lobby fluorescent and empty. The ride up in the elevator felt interminable. She fumbled with her key, the metal slipping in her sweaty palm before she finally got the door open.
The room was dim, curtains drawn. Chloe lay sprawled on her bed, wearing only a thin, ripped camisole and panties. Her makeup was smeared into raccoon circles, her blonde hair a wild nest. She looked wrecked in the most obvious way—limbs loose, a satisfied, drowsy smile on her face. The smell of sex, sweat, and cheap beer hung in the air.
“Hey,” Abby said, her voice rough. She shrugged off the hoodie, draping it carefully over her desk chair as if it were something sacred.
Chloe turned her head slowly, a lazy grin spreading. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, who dragged you in? That was Leo’s hoodie, right? Get a taste of something other than circuit boards?”
Abby ignored the jab, sitting on the edge of her own bed. She felt stripped, wearing last night’s short black dress, her thong a memory. “How was your night? After you left with Mike for ‘round two’?”
Chloe’s grin turned wicked. She pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing slightly. “Oh my god, Abby. It was fucking insane. So, we go back to the Phi Kap house. We’re making out in his room, you know, getting into it. Then the door just… opens. It was Cooper and Jax. They’d seen us leave together.”
She paused for effect, her eyes bright. “They just came in, laughing. Mike didn’t even stop. He just… pulled my panties to the side and kept going. Then Cooper unzipped his jeans. Next thing I know, I’m on my knees in the middle of the room, and there’s, like, five of them. All from the team. Shirts off, cocks out.”
Abby’s stomach tightened. She folded her hands in her lap, pressing her nails into her palms.
“It was so hot,” Chloe breathed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was their little party girl cock slut, right in the middle. They passed me around. Mike filmed some of it on his phone. Got pictures. There’s one of me kneeling, just surrounded by them, all hard and waiting their turn. Then one where I’m on my back on the pool table and Ben is between my legs, eating me out while two others watch.” She giggled. “And the video… fuck, the video. They ran a train. One after another. My mouth, my pussy, never empty. Just filled, over and over. I came so hard I saw stars. They called me a good little fuckhole. I loved it.”
Each word was a shard of ice driving into Abby’s chest. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. She could see it, the images Chloe painted superimposing themselves on her own memories—different faces, same laughter, same crushing weight.
“Sounds… intense,” Abby managed, the words ash in her mouth.
“The best,” Chloe sighed, stretching like a cat. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, scrolling. “Oh, and get this. Cooper and Jax texted this morning. Said they had a ‘smaller, rougher’ group getting together tonight. Wanted to know if I was up for it. Just them and a couple others. Maybe use some belts, you know? Really get nasty. They mentioned Tank and Drew might be there.”
The names hit Abby like a physical blow. Tank. Drew. The air left her lungs in a rush. The dark room from her memory solidified—the brutish grip of Tank’s hand over her mouth, the painful bite of Drew’s fingers digging into her hips as he forced himself inside her while she struggled.
A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. She stood up so fast her vision spotted.
“Abby?”
She didn’t answer. She just turned and walked stiffly to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and twisting the lock with a definitive click. She slid down the smooth surface, back against the wood, and curled into herself. The first sob tore out of her, harsh and ugly, followed by another. She gasped for air, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth to stifle the sound. Tears streamed down her face, hot and furious, streaking through last night’s mascara and eyeliner. Her body shook violently.
No. No. No. The word echoed in time with her pounding heart. It wasn’t rough sex. It wasn’t a kink. She had said no. They hadn’t listened. She had buried it, told herself it was a bad hookup, her own fault for drinking too much. But hearing Chloe describe it so gleefully, hearing those names… it ripped the wound wide open. The dream of Leo, of giving up control to someone who cared, suddenly felt like a cruel joke.
She cried until she was hollow, until her breaths were ragged but even. She pushed herself up, her legs wobbly. At the sink, she avoided her own reflection at first, splashing cold water on her face. When she finally looked up, a ghost stared back. Her makeup was a ruined tragedy of black streaks, her eyes red-raw and terribly young. She looked like what she was: a girl hiding a fracture.
Slowly, she wiped her face with a towel, the rough fabric grounding her. She took deep, shuddering breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until the trembling stopped. She unlocked the door.
Chloe was sitting upright now, her playful grin replaced by a confused frown. “Abby, what the hell?”
Abby walked over, her movements deliberate. She sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed, the scent of sex and male bodies still clinging to the sheets. She looked at her roommate, at her blissful, bruised innocence, and a fierce, protective ache swelled in her chest.
Without a word, she pulled Chloe into a tight hug. Chloe stiffened, surprised, then relaxed into it.
“Don’t go,” Abby whispered, her voice thick and raw against Chloe’s hair. “Don’t take them up on their offer. Please.”
Chloe pulled back, searching Abby’s ruined face. “Why? What’s wrong? It’s just fun.”
Abby just shook her head, her grip tightening. She couldn’t explain. The words were a locked box inside her. But she held on, pouring every ounce of her silent warning into that embrace. “Just don’t.”
Chloe pulled back fully, her face a mask of bewildered frustration. She shook her head, her sleep-tangled hair swaying. “You’re not making any sense, Abs. It’s a good time. They’re hot. What’s the big deal?”
Abby’s hands fell to her lap, clenched into pale fists. The words were a cold, hard stone in her throat. She forced them out. “Tank and Drew made me the same offer last year.”
“What?” Chloe blinked, her expression shifting from annoyance to curiosity. “You and them? I never heard about that.”
“You wouldn’t.” Abby’s laugh was a sharp, brittle sound. She looked past Chloe, at the sunlit dust motes dancing in the air, and her vision tunneled back into the dark. “I was that girl, right? The goth slut. I’d fuck anyone. A gym rat, a linebacker, a guy with a hockey stick—didn’t matter. So when they asked, I said yes. Of course I said yes.”
She could still feel the cheap polyester of the couch in that basement rec room, smell the spilled beer and old pizza. “It started like the fantasy. My fantasy. They had belts. They told me to be still.” Her voice flattened, becoming detached. “They tied my wrists to the legs of this heavy coffee table. Ankles too. Spread me out. Drew filmed it on his phone, the red light like a tiny eye. Tank got on top first. He was huge, and he just… pushed in. No condom. I liked it at first. I liked feeling used.”
The memory tightened its grip, the details rising like bile. “But it changed. Tank finished, grunting, and just rolled off. Drew was already there, his cock slick from my... and Tank’s cum. He slammed into me, harder. I gasped. It hurt. I said ‘easy, hey, easy.’ He grinned. He fucked me like he was trying to break the couch. Then Tank was back, hard again, shoving his dick into my mouth. I couldn’t breathe.”
Abby’s knuckles were white. The room in her mind was loud with their laughter, the slap of skin, the creak of furniture. “I struggled. The belts cut my wrists. I told them to stop. I said ‘stop, please, I’m done.’ Tank’s hand smacked my thigh, a sharp sting. ‘You’re not done, you little whore,’ he said. ‘You love this.’ Drew pulled out, turned my head roughly. He stuffed my own black lace panties into my mouth, the taste of my pussy and their sweat choking me. Then he wrapped his belt around my head, cinching it tight to keep the gag in.”
A single tear traced a clean path through the makeup on her cheek. “They kept going. For hours. One would fuck my mouth, the other my cunt, then they’d switch. When they softened, they’d use their hands, their fingers, pinching and prodding until they were hard again. I was just a wet, open hole for them. I stopped fighting. I just… floated away. Above it. I watched it happen to someone else.”
She finally looked at Chloe, whose face had gone pale. “After, they untied me. I couldn’t stand. My body was one giant bruise. Drew showed me the video on his phone. Close-ups. Of my face, my cunt, them coming on me. He said if I ever talked, if I ever cried rape, they’d post every second. They’d tag my family. They said everyone would just see it and say ‘look at that slut getting what she wanted.’ And they were right.”
Abby’s shoulders slumped, the confession leaving her hollowed out. “I didn’t tell anyone. I was the wild party girl. Who would believe me? I broke. I started going out all the time, trying to forget with as many guys as I could. After I’d just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. I felt… dead. Until Leo.”
Chloe was utterly still, her earlier glee extinguished. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“He was quiet,” Abby whispered, the ghost of a real smile touching her lips. “He didn’t look at me like I was a conquest. He just… saw me. Last night, sleeping next to him, I had a dream. He was in control, but it was safe. It was a choice. It wasn’t theft.” She reached out, taking Chloe’s hand. It was cold. “So when I say don’t go, I’m not being a buzzkill. I’m telling you their offer is a lie. The video isn’t a trophy. It’s a leash.”
Chloe stared at their joined hands, then back at Abby’s devastated eyes. The reality, visceral and ugly, settled between them in the sunlit room. “Oh, god, Abby,” she finally breathed, her voice trembling.
The alarm on Chloe’s phone erupted, a cheerful, generic chime violently at odds with the silence it shattered. Both girls jumped. Chloe fumbled for it, her fingers clumsy, and swiped it silent. The ordinary sound left a new, more complicated quiet in its wake.
Chloe didn’t let go of Abby’s hand. She looked toward her own phone, dark now on the nightstand, knowing what messages waited there. Her face was a battle of longing and dawning horror. “What do I do?” she asked, the question small and lost.
Abby’s eyes locked onto Chloe’s, the air between them charged and still. “You don’t go,” she said, each word a hammer strike. “Ever. But first, we cut the leash.” Her mind raced, connecting Chloe’s earlier boasting with her own history. “Mike. He has the pictures, the video from last night, doesn’t he? On his phone.”
Chloe paled, nodding. “Yeah. He showed me. Jax sent them to him. He called it his ‘spank bank’.”
A violent, hot clarity washed over Abby. “Call him. Now. Video call. Make him delete everything while you watch. Every photo, every video, from his phone and his cloud. Then you end it. Tell him it’s over. Do not trust a single fucking word he says after that. He’s not your guy; he’s a collector.”
Chloe’s hands trembled as she grabbed her phone. She found Mike’s contact, inhaled sharply, and tapped the video call icon. The ringing echoed in the sunlit room.
Mike answered, his face filling the screen, smirking from a rumpled pillow. “Well, hey there. Can’t wait for round three tonight?”
“Open your gallery, Mike.” Chloe’s voice was surprisingly steady, cold. “Show me the files from last night. All of them.”
His smirk didn’t fade. “Getting nostalgic already? Here.” He tilted the screen. A rapid slideshow of flesh flashed—Chloe on her knees, mouths on her, cocks penetrating her from different angles. The images were graphic, clinical in their exposure.
“Delete them,” Chloe commanded. “Now. And empty your recently deleted. Show me your iCloud and delete them there too.”
He laughed, a short, derisive sound. “Fuck off. This is my property.”
“It’s my body, you asshole. Delete them or I report you and every guy in those videos for non-consensual pornography distribution. I have the texts. I’ll burn your hockey career to the ground.”
The color drained from his face. Silence hung for three long seconds. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Muttering curses, he began tapping and swiping. He held the phone up to show the albums emptying, the trash folder clearing. He navigated to his cloud storage, deleted the backup. “Happy? You’re a fucking psycho.”
“We’re done. Don’t ever contact me again.” Chloe ended the call. The phone clattered onto her comforter. She sat frozen for a moment, then erupted into motion, scrambling across the bed to crush Abby in a tight, desperate hug. “I did it. I did it.”
Abby held her, feeling the frantic beat of Chloe’s heart. “Good. Now stay away from him.”
Chloe pulled back, her eyes glistening. “But you... your video. They still have yours. What do I do? How do I help you?”
Abby shook her head, the weight of it pressing down. “I don’t know.”
Chloe’s gaze darted around the room, landing on Abby’s desk where Leo’s hoodie lay draped. “Leo,” she said suddenly. “You trust him. He’s... different. Maybe he can help. Do you want me to call him?”
The thought of Leo, of his calm, his quiet intensity from the dream and the reality of his arm around her, sent a shiver through Abby. It was a lifeline in the chaos. She nodded, unable to speak.
Chloe grabbed her phone, found Leo’s number—she’d stored it after the party—and put it on speaker. It rang once, twice.
“Hello?” Leo’s voice was sleep-rough, cautious.
“Leo, it’s Chloe. Abby’s roommate.” Her words were rapid, urgent. “You need to come over. To our dorm. Right now.”
A pause. Abby could hear the rustle of sheets, a quickened breath. “Is Abby alright?”
“No,” Chloe said, her eyes fixed on Abby’s shattered expression. “She’s really not. Please, just come. Now.”
“I’m on my way.” The line went dead.
Chloe placed the phone down. “He’s coming.”
Abby drew her knees up to her chest, the rough fabric of her dress scraping her thighs. She stared at the door, her body humming with a terrifying blend of dread and hope.