2.4 | Knight In Distress ✓

08 | damsel in impasse

"Me?"

"Yes. I don't think I can exactly waltz into the boys' bathroom. Get in there and tell me if it's safe to go in."

Ean jogged on ahead, and I waited, rocking anxiously on the tips of my toes. And as I checked my watch again, I couldn't help but feel anxious. Ten minutes. Ten minutes left and I hadn't a clue as to what was going on.

But I didn't have to wait long. A few seconds after Ean had disappeared into the bathroom, he came out again. His face was tight with fear and he vigorously waved me over. "Darce! Come on!"

This couldn't be good. Ignoring the blatant gazes of the people around, I headed straight for the guys' lavatory, stopping immediately when I saw that the door, while ajar, had two yellow stripes taped tightly across the doorframe.

"Just go on in!" Ean urged, when he saw me hesitate, placing his hand on my shoulder. "I think the frat guys did that to keep people out. I thought the janitors were cleaning this place at first too, but then I realised that they usually put a post outside. They've never done this before."

He was right. Easing under the tapes, I stepped into the bathroom and headed inside. A quick glance around the exterior told me that Miles was nowhere to be found. In fact, the whole place was empty, and I faltered.

"He's back there," Ean pointed in the direction of the bathroom stalls, and I shot him an uneasy glance before stepping forward.

For some reason, Ean's tone was tentative, half-scared. He wasn't like this often, which made me even more worried. And as I rounded the corner and peered into the open stalls, I immediately knew why.

"Miles!" His name left my lips in a horrified gasp as I took in the terrible scene before me.

He was wearing the exact same thing I'd seen him wear for other initiation rounds - yellow polka-dotted trunks, and nothing else.

But he was tied tightly to the toilet with a white rope, and upon closer inspection, I saw that the rope was knotted up in a complex, intricate method that wasn't easy to undo. His face and neck glistened with droplets, and his hair was dripping wet, like he'd just been doused in water not too long ago.

Doused in water.

It finally hit me. I didn't need Liam to tell me what the sixth round of initiation entailed, it was right there, staring me in the face.

Middle-school.

Bullying.

The toilet.

The puzzle pieces had slotted together perfectly. The frat boys had probably pulled the classic pranking scenario. Miles had his head shoved into the toilet bowl and they'd flushed it. Probably had it done several times, if the expression on Miles's face was any indication.

He now seemed completely terrified, his eyes were wide and stricken, his breaths coming in shallow gasps, and I soon realised that he was close to having a panic attack.

Rushing up to him, I found my hands reaching out for him, but I stopped when my fingers had almost come into contact with his skin. His gaze was vacant but turbulent, and I didn't know how to help him snap out of whatever trance he seemed to be in.

"Miles," I repeated, my throat dry and voice scratchy. Steeling myself, I gripped him gently by the shoulders and pulled him upright. "Miles."

Repeating his name seemed to help, because his gaze began to sharpen. His eyes locked in on mine and they lit briefly as he recognised me.

"Darcy. Hey," he smiled weakly as an expression of relief crossed his face.