Each line was filthier than the last. I felt my stomach turn as nausea rose in my throat. My hands shook as I gripped the edge of the blanket, fighting the urge to scream.
None of it made sense.
I had been at home. I hadn't left my parents' apartment since yesterday. How could this happen again?
Desperate, I turned toward the door. I needed my parents to see this, to speak for me. But the apartment was silent. They must've gone out for groceries like they always did on weekends.
"I didn't do this," I said weakly, eyes pleading. "Sean, I was here all night."
He stared at me like he was looking at a stranger. "I'm done listening to your bullshit," he growled.
I dialed the police with trembling fingers. They arrived quickly and just like before, took us to the hotel for investigation.
The same pattern unfolded.
Surveillance footage showed me checking into the hotel just after midnight. Then, one by one, the men arrived. And each time, I opened the door. Sometimes I flung myself into their arms, sometimes I leaned seductively against the frame as if I'd been waiting. There wasn't the slightest indication that I was forced.