Prologue
Content warning: sexual assault, substance use.
Luna
Five years ago
I shouldn’t have come, this was a mistake. Luke ditched me the moment we walked in, whispering sweet nothings to some brunette pressed against the kitchen counter. I wish I cared enough; he is my boyfriend, but the rage never comes.
The loud music vibrates through my bones, the scent of cheap alcohol and sweat lingers in the air. I could leave — I should — but the thought of going home to my mother slumped on the couch, a glass dangling from her fingers, empty bottles at her feet, while she squints at whatever’s playing on the TV, feels just as unbearable.
Someone presses a cup into my hand. I don’t remember asking for it, but I take it anyway and bring it to my lips. It burns going down; the taste is sharp at first, then dulls. The noise starts to soften, the room blurs at the edges, and faces smear together like wet paint on a canvas.
“You good?” a voice asks. I don’t think it’s Luke.
I just nod because my mouth doesn’t feel like it’ll be able to form any words.
The guy says it’s quieter upstairs, that I’ll feel better, so he puts my arms around his shoulders. My body feels limp beside him, my legs don’t feel attached to my body.
The music fades as the door shuts behind me. The bed dips beneath my weight, the mattress too soft, swallowing me whole. There’s pressure—too much of it—pinning me down, stealing the air from my lungs. My mouth tastes bitter, metallic.
I try to focus, to say something, but my tongue won’t cooperate. My thoughts slide away before I can grab onto them.
There’s a dark head near my face. He’s saying something—I think—but I can’t make out the words.
When did he push my dress up?
The sheets are cold against my legs. Then pain—sharp and sudden—before everything dulls, like someone turned the volume down on my body. The bed moves beneath us; I can feel his hands holding my arms down. No matter how hard I try, I can’t move.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but the weight on top of me is gone. My eyes fall shut. I should fix my dress, but I’m so tired.
