(💀 just a heads up: this chapter contains violence and attempted SA 💀)
Morgan
"And he hasn't made any plans since?" Anthon asks over the music as I sip my beer.
I watched Rivers win a game in a moment of complete and utter surprise. I don't think anyone on the ice knew what was happening. The River Otters fully expected to lose and, like most of the time, only showed up to have some fun.
Halfway through the second period, it was obvious something was going on with three of the guys on the opposing team.
Rumor spread quickly in the stands and by the start of the third period, everyone knew that one of the guys had been sleeping with two of his teammates' girlfriends and the two other guys had accused each other at first and everyone was upset with everyone.
Whether that was the real story or not, the other team couldn't hold it together. Rivers saw an opportunity and took it.
To the River Otters, losing a game is no excuse not to party. But winning a game means the party is practically mandatory.
Half the guys are drunk already and I'm starting to understand why the UNI Lions are so much better. To Rivers, hockey is fun. It's a nice way to pass the time and keep in shape. But very few of them put hockey over partying.
The plan was to stay for the game and then head back to UNI, but after a win, how could I miss out on the celebration?
"He did," I say. "He wants to meet up tomorrow." That text had been a surprise, one that gave me butterflies.
"Do you like him?"
I sip my beer and look around the party as I try to compose an answer.
"The sex is good."
Anthon raises an eyebrow.
"I like spending time with him." I grimace as if it's some guilty pleasure I'd rather nobody knew about. Because, in a way, it is.
I check my phone. The texts arranging to meet up tomorrow are the only ones I've gotten from him all week.
"He had an important game tonight. He's probably been focused on that." It's as if Anthon can read my mind.
"I know." I put the phone away. "I'm not thinking about him tonight. Tonight, we're celebrating and having fun." I drain the beer and go get another one.
One drink turns into two, then three, and before I know it, I'm hugging people I only barely knew in high school.
"Hey, Morgan," Corey says as I get out of the bathroom.
"Corey." I try to not roll my eyes. He's been hanging around all night, watching me, and it's making me slightly uncomfortable.
"Want to dance?" He holds out his large hand to me and I frown.
"I have to find Anthon," I say. I spin around to get away from him and immediately spot Anthon and Dennis making out in a corner.
"Looks like he's busy," Corey smiles and there's something about it I don't like. But I'm drunk and the music is good.
"One dance." I hold up a finger. "Just one song."
He leads me to the dance floor and I remember how much fun it is to just let go. Corey does his best to dance close to me, but I spin away and avoid him.
As soon as the song changes, I push at his chest.
"See you later." Before he can say anything, I leave him there and get myself another drink. The captain of the Otters mixes a drink next to me.
"Nolan." I punch his arm. "Congrats on the win."
"Thanks. I guess our path to victory is clear next year. We just have to go to all the other schools and make sure their girlfriends cheat on them." He laughs and I know it's a joke. Nolan is a good guy.
"Wouldn't it be easier to learn how to hold a stick?" I tease.
"Hey, watch it, you don't want to make us think we're bad at hockey, now do you?"
"Of course not. It's a wonder you haven't gotten to the finals in decades. You're definite winning material."
I wink at him and take a big gulp of whatever I've managed to get in the cup.
"See you around, Morgan," he smiles with perfect teeth, and I wonder if they're all real. They look too good.
I dance a bit more before I check the time and realize I should probably get home, so I'm not too hungover for my date with JD. He's got something special planned, but wouldn't tell me what. And I can't wait to find out.
Since it's already late, I've decided to spend the night at my parents' place and take the bus back tomorrow morning.
Anthon has torn himself from Dennis and is talking to some of the hockey girlfriends. I bring out my phone and order an uber as I walk across to him. He laughs at something someone says. I pull at his sleeve just as he starts talking.
"I'm headed home. I'll text you tomorrow."
"Hold on, Morgan. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll walk you out."
"It's fine. I have an uber coming. It's almost here."
I wave at him.
"Wait two minutes," he says and points at me.
I shake my head.
"I'll be fine. The car is downstairs."
I hurry away, not wanting him to interrupt his conversation on my behalf. I may be quite drunk, but the car is literally outside the building.
I find my jacket and head out of the apartment. The music reaches out into the hallway through the open door. It's a wonder no neighbor has called the cops.
At the elevator, I press the button to go down and wait while I check my phone.
"Hey there," Corey says, and I turn toward him in surprise just as he puts his hand on my lower back.
The doors open in front of me.
"Congrats on the win," I say and step into the elevator, hoping he won't come with. He's not wearing a jacket, so he's not leaving. "I'll see you next time I visit."
I press the button to go down and he seems to be debating with himself whether or not to come with.
Just as the doors close, he steps in and my stomach roils.
"You look really hot tonight." He stands in front of me, a bit too close.
"Thanks." I don't look at him.
"Really hot." His hand reaches out to trail down my cheek and I jerk away.
"It's the anti balding cream, it's really working," I say deadpan.
He smiles. "You're funny. But you're not leaving already, are you?"
"Yup, I have to get home to my parents." I'm backed up against the wall, wondering how much I've had to drink and what kind of person Corey is. I know he's new to the team, recently transferred from some other school. But I don't know much about him.
"I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night."
"The car is waiting, so..." He's so much bigger than me.
"You've been looking at me, too. I know you have."
"That's not really true."
"You dressed like this for me, didn't you? And you danced for me."
The elevator doors open and I breathe a sigh of relief as I dart past him.
"Nope, not at all."
He follows me into the lobby with walls of glass windows to the outside. It's a nice lobby, large, with some fake trees in pots. It's too large. The walk to the doors seems to stretch on forever.
When the elevator closes behind him, I wonder if I should head back upstairs, but the car is right outside. My head is spinning from the drinks and the adrenaline.
"I have to go," I say and speed up. I shouldn't have gotten so drunk and acted so reckless. I should have waited for Anthon to walk me to the car. No matter how silly it would have felt.
He grabs my arm.
"At least give me a goodnight kiss."
I laugh in an attempt to dissipate the tension. "Maybe next time." With a yank, I try to free my arm, but he doesn't let go.
"Are you a fighter, Morgan?"
I try again to break free from his grip by spinning and racking my brain for the moves that should be muscle memory by now. I took all those martial arts classes. Now is the time to put the knowledge to use.
I raise my arm and his grip drops. Without another thought, I run for the door. But sudden movements don't go well with the alcohol in my system. He's caught up to me in a few steps and I'm half pushed, half dragged across the lobby into a shadowy part near the window.
"Stop." I try to scream, but he slams me into the wall and all the air leaves my lungs.
"It's time for you to give it up. I've waited long enough."
Martial arts. I know this. I've done it a hundred times. I took Krav Maga for a reason. The knowledge is in there, somewhere, but fear and panic is overriding it all.
"No," I say, and remember at least one thing. In a move as desperate as it is classic, I knee him in the balls.
And hit thigh.
He twists away just in time and grunts as my knee strikes him.
His hand grabs my throat and squeezes. Struggling for air, I claw at his arm.
One of my teachers once said something about getting evidence and right now it rings through my buzzing head. If I can't make him let me go, I'll get his DNA under my fingernails.
But I don't want to rely on DNA. I claw harder, deeper. A nail breaks as the world darkens and my lungs burn.
He mutters something, but I can't make it out over the dullness in my ears. Then there's pain in my stomach. It's as if he tried to punch the wall behind me and I was in the way.
The pressure on my throat eases and I struggle for a breath. For anything. All I want to do is throw up. And breathe.
When I finally manage to inhale, he grips my hair and bends my head back. My mind doesn't know what's happening until his lips are on mine.
I bite down. Hard. I close my eyes until I can taste blood. His blood. He pulls back. This time, he slams me back so hard my head bounces off the wall and I see stars. Everything spins around me and the urge to throw up gets worse.
But he pushes me against the walls and I want to cry as his hands run across my body.
What the fuck good is self-defence if I can't remember it? I should have kept up with the classes. I should have practiced more. I should know what to do. I finally manage to fill my lungs with sweet air. And with the breath comes some clarity.
Something is thundering in my ears as I raise my arms. I force a thumb into his eye and push.
He screams, and for a moment I lose all sense of reality. The ground disappears, and it's only when I'm flying through the air that I realize he picked me up.
My arms instinctively move to protect my head as I wait to hit the wall again. But there's the sound of glass shattering. Then there's cold. I land in snow.
I keep my eyes closed as I once again struggle to breathe. There are voices. Many voices. Angry voices. They're arguing, but all I want to do is lie there. With snow under my cheek as I breathe.
"Morgan?" Anthon sounds desperate. He's afraid. Which is weird. He's a big, gay, hockey player. He's not afraid of anything.
"Anthon?" My throat feels raw.
"Everything is going to be ok, Morgan. You hear me?"
I nod, but it hurts.
"Just stay with me."
I become aware of the cold and pain. There's pain all over. My lungs, my throat, my stomach. But most of all, my head. And I'm cold and getting wet.
I open my eyes and see that I'm outside. I'm not sure how I got here. Anthon helps me sit up and I see the broken window. There's glass all over the ground. Mixed in with the snow.
Past the shattered window, I see a pile. A pile of people. Hockey players. I close my eyes against the pain for a moment before I look again.
There must be fifteen guys holding Corey down. Stopping him from getting up.
No, not fifteen. I'm seeing double. I blink a few more times, hoping to make sense of it all. The elevator doors open far away and someone yells at the people coming down to put away their phones.
"Morgan, are you ok?" Anthon sounds so scared.
I open my mouth and take a deep, icy breath. Then I throw up. I barely have the sense to aim away from Anthon, but he doesn't move. He gathers my hair and gently rubs my back. The taste of tequila and bile mix in my mouth and I grimace.
"What happened?" I ask and wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket.
"After you left, Gina told me Corey had been saying some disturbing things about you. And she was worried."
"I remember Gina," I say vaguely and try not to sway as I press my hands against my temples.
"Someone saw him get in the elevator with you, so I grabbed a couple of the guys and followed. We came down just in time to see him throw you through the window."
I should feel more. There should be something more inside me right now. Outrage? Anger? Disgust?
But there's nothing.
"He said it was time for me to give it up," I say as sirens sound in the distance.
"I should have come with you straight away. I shouldn't have..." Anthon hugs me tightly to him and I let him, even though he's not a hugger. "I should have come down with you, no matter what."
"I shouldn't have gone alone. But the car was waiting right outside. And it's a good neighborhood."
Flashing lights hurt my head and I close my eyes and bury my face in Anthon's shirt.
I'm still shaking, but tiredness is taking over and I want to go to sleep right where I am.
"Morgan, sit up."
Someone else is there. There's a bright light shining into my eyes and a blue glove. I watch the finger moving in front of me. People are talking. I hear the word concussion. Someone asks if I can walk. I say yes and Anthon, and someone I don't know, help me up. There's an ambulance and I get to sit in it.
A police officer comes up to me. He wants to ask me questions, but my head is pounding and all I want to do is cry. Someone is picking shards of glass from my hair. I throw up again.