I stormed into my house, shutting the back door behind me without a second glance. Their voices echoed from the backyard—“Selene! Selene, wait!”—but they didn’t follow. Whether they were respecting my wishes or if Kylie was holding them back, I didn’t care.

I needed to be alone.

I trudged through the kitchen and straight to my room, my wet clothes clinging to my skin, weighing me down like an anchor. I glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. At least the fight happened after my birthday, technically. Small mercies.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and groaned. I looked like hell. Black streaks of mascara smeared under my eyes from crying, my once-sleek ponytail drooping to one side, strands stuck to my neck. My clothes—now a darker, soaked version of their original color—clung to every curve, dripping water onto the floor in uneven splatters.

Disgusted, I peeled everything off and dumped the mess on the bathroom floor. My new jewelry clinked against the countertop, carelessly discarded. I shivered, my skin clammy. Why was I so cold?

The shower knob squeaked as I turned the water on as hot as it would go, scalding my skin as I stepped in. I scrubbed at my body until my skin was raw and red, but the ache in my chest refused to wash away.

I stood under the stream, letting the water pound against me as the tears finally came. Quiet at first, a trickle of emotion slipping free, but soon I was sobbing, my entire body shaking as I leaned against the tiled wall.

I was losing them.

The guys—Leo, Aaron, Ryan, Ethan, Devin—would hate me now. They’d resent me for lying, for keeping everything to myself. For being weak. I could already picture the disappointment in their eyes, the betrayal. How could I explain the years of hiding, the silence, the endless attempts to fix this on my own?

They’d never understand. And they would walk away. Just like everyone else.

I hugged my knees to my chest, water streaming down my face, and gave in to the grief I’d been holding back for years.

I should have known better than to let them in. This is why I stay alone. Because letting people in always comes with a cost, and eventually, they leave. The pain of that abandonment stings worse than any blow to the body.

Even Kylie—I wouldn’t make her choose between me and the guys. She belonged with them, and it was easier for me to disappear than risk making her life harder. I’d been walking away my whole life; this time wouldn’t be any different.

I’m just one person, easily replaced.

The water grew cold, and I shut it off with a sigh. Wrapping myself in a towel, I padded back into my room. I slipped into an old T-shirt and shorts, but even the comfort of familiar clothes couldn’t banish the dread creeping into my heart.

Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, my mind replaying every second of that fight by the pool. The looks on their faces—the shock, the hurt, the disgust—were burned into my brain. They had seen the marks on my body, the evidence of my failure to protect myself, and now they knew the truth: I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t perfect. I was damaged.

And soon, they’d leave, just like everyone else had.

Flashback: A Lesson in Pain

It was just before summer break when Stacey finally made sure I knew she was behind it all.

They grabbed me the way they always did—suddenly, without warning. Rough hands yanked me into a janitor’s closet, gagging me with a rag before I could make a sound. My wrists and ankles were bound tight with coarse rope, and a black cloth bag was shoved over my head, plunging me into suffocating darkness.

I knew then this wouldn’t be like the other times.

Panic twisted in my chest, but the ropes dug into my skin when I tried to fight. A sharp punch to the side of my head sent my senses reeling, and everything tilted sideways. I forced myself to breathe, slow and shallow, waiting for whatever came next.

The bell rang in the distance, signaling the last class of the day. The shuffling of feet faded until the hallway outside the closet was silent. They had planned this perfectly—no one would miss me. Not the teachers. Not the students. I was invisible to everyone.

I was dragged forward, each jarring step sending my heart deeper into my stomach. My legs stumbled as I tried to keep pace, the rough hands on my arms digging into my skin. I couldn’t see where we were going, couldn’t track the turns they made. It was all a blur of fear and helplessness.

When they stopped, they threw me to the ground. My knees hit the cold, hard surface, and I winced as the ropes around my wrists were hooked above me, pulling me up until my toes barely grazed the floor.

My shirt was ripped open, the cold air brushing against my exposed back. I let out a muffled scream as the first lash cracked across my skin.

The whip bit deep, the pain searing and relentless. I gasped for breath, tears spilling freely down my cheeks as the second strike followed.

“Count them,” I told myself. Don’t think. Just count.

One. Two. Three.

By the seventh lash, my screams had turned to silence.

They didn’t like that.

The last three came fast—one from the left, one from the right, and the final blow across both shoulders. My arms were stretched painfully, shoulders on the verge of dislocation. I tried to fight it—tried to stay conscious—but the world tilted when the smell hit me.

Silver.

White-hot agony seared across my back, the burn sinking deep into my skin. My body convulsed as bile rose in my throat. I choked, desperate for air, the gag still in place.

And then I heard her voice.

“Take that gag out.” Stacey’s voice was sharp, her words laced with venom. “I want her to suffer, not die.”

The gag was ripped from my mouth, and I coughed violently, my body heaving as I gasped for breath. I heard her laugh—a high, nasally giggle that sent chills down my spine.

“You remember this, Selene,” she hissed, her voice low and full of malice. “Stay away from what’s mine. Stay out of my way, or next time, you’ll beg me to finish the job.”

Her footsteps echoed as she left the room, leaving me tied, bleeding, and broken on the cold floor.

Present: A Decision

I blinked back tears as the flashback faded, the ghost of that pain lingering beneath my skin.

I had survived that day. I had survived all the days after it, too.

And I would survive this.

The guys couldn’t fix this for me. No one could. This was my burden to carry, my fight to win. I wasn’t the weak, helpless girl they thought I was—but I also wasn’t the kind of girl who needed rescuing.

I had to let them go. It was the only way to protect myself—and them.

With a shaky breath, I rolled over, staring at the shadows dancing across my ceiling. The fight by the pool played on repeat in my mind, but I knew one thing for certain:

I would keep surviving. With or without them.