Fan Service [Chan]

Chapter 33

Chan gasped as he listened.

"'No, please. I've never done that before,' I shouted."

I could feel myself begin to cry and stopped looking at Chan. I grabbed one of his hands instead and traced around his fingernails as I spoke to distract myself.

"He ignored me and pushed into me. 'Stop! I'm a virgin. Stop.' I told him."

I gulped knowing the next part was one of my biggest triggers.

"'What's done is done,' he said and kept going."

"He said that," Chan asked furiously.

I nodded. I had told so few people about that sentence for fear it would be weaponized against me.

"I'm so sorry, baby. You deserved to have that moment be so special."

"Anyways," I coughed. "...I graduated college early to get away from him. I reported the incident to my school, but they didn't do anything."

"He had even confessed on Instagram in a post where he stood in front of a Do Not Enter sign, location tagged it Rape and Sodomy convention, and captioned it 'That's what she said'. He mocked me because he knew they wouldn't do anything. I showed it to the Dean... that semester he received an award from the baseball team."

"He what?" Chan grit his teeth angrily.

"I know..." I replied. There was nothing more to say. It was fucked up. "But there's two more we need to get through."

"Sorry," Chan apologized for interrupting. I moved to sit in his lap instead so that I couldn't look at him. It made it too hard for me to be so vulnerable.

Incident 2: July 4, 2018

"Once I graduated, I made a new group of friends. I was eager to celebrate my first post-college holiday with them. This group knew what I'd gone through since some of them had gone to my school and others I'd made aware since I suffered from PTSD and had panic attacks often," I explained with a small laugh. Chan had seen firsthand how debilitating my panic attacks could be.

"Anyways, we all played drinking games and got wasted that night. I was happy to have a group that I felt safe enough to do that with."

Chan wrapped his arms around me while I spoke. I wondered if he realized I'd also felt comfortable enough to drink around him.

"I headed off to sleep in one of the guys' rooms. He'd let me crash with him a few times since we often watched movies together late at night or went to concerts that ended super late."

"I woke up and there were solo cups from the party on the floor. I could hear my friends partying outside and having fun. There were empty bottles decorating the shelves...the moving shelves. But...the shelves weren't moving at all...the bed was," Chan's chest shook behind me, and I knew he was crying. I did my best to continue and ignore it.

"I looked down and my friend that I had trusted had torn off my pants and was fucking me having thought I was passed out cold. I pushed him off of me and ran out of the room."

"Is this the one that got jail time?" Chan asked.

I nodded.

"He chased after me to stop me from telling our friends. They saw. The girls helped me cover myself and the guys beat him."

"We called the police and reported it. He got three months because the jury wasn't sure if I'd consented and forgotten because I was drunk. It didn't matter that there were witnesses who had known I was asleep."

Chan squeezed me, hugging me from behind. "You didn't deserve any of this, Ella."

Hearing that made me want to sob, but I had one more story to get through.

Incident 3: March 22, 2021

"When I'd first moved to Boston, I didn't have many friends there. I was excited to see what the new city offered me, though. My colleagues at work suggested checking out dating apps since they had met their partners on them. I went on a few but nothing clicked. I decided to give Bumble a try after failing on Tinder and scheduled my first date."

"At the time, I'd gained a lot of weight," I confessed. Chan didn't know that it was 80lbs or that I had such low self-esteem I briefly dated someone who had a pig emoji by my name on their phone.

"I was scared to run alone, or go to the gym, or be anywhere men frequented. My alcohol tolerance was impressive, though. I frequently out-drank my other coworkers at our happy hours."

"Anyways, I went to meet my Bumble date at a bar he'd chosen. There was a line down the block, and we waited outside just beginning to get to know each other. He was a little nerdy but seemed nice. We finally got to the front of the line after nearly an hour, and they let us in."

"We hovered around a couple that seemed ready to leave and scooped up their table. My date went to the bar and grabbed us a couple of drinks. When he came back, we laughed and talked as he told me about where he had moved from."

I took a deep breath and held Chan's hands.

"But then, I began to feel dizzy. I normally had a really high tolerance, so I knew something was wrong."

"'I don't feel well,' I'd told him. 'I think I should go.'

"'You shouldn't be driving in your condition,' he had told me."

"Now, how many times have you gone to dinner with a friend who ordered a single drink?" I asked Chan, anger in my voice at what I'd experienced.

"A lot," Chan mumbled.

"And I'd bet that not once did you tell them that one drink impaired their ability to drive."

"Never," Chan answered.

"I knew that he'd drugged me," I explained.

"I stood and ran out of the bar and down the street. He caught up to me though and pulled me into a dark alley. I was fighting whatever sedative he'd given me."

"'Get off,' I had shouted."

"He put a hand against my throat and spat in my mouth. I spat it back in his face. I then kneed him in his dick and, while he writhed on the ground in pain, I was able to make it to my friend's apartment where I promptly passed out on the floor."

I took a final breath.

"And that was all that happened."