Unwrapping Ember

Prologue

Ember

B ella and I walk into the frat house, following the discarded red Solo cups all over the sticky floor. Once we grab ourselves a drink, we mingle with our classmates, swaying slowly to the music blaring through the entire house, trying to loosen up a bit.

“Girl, look alive!” Bella yells into my ear as I find myself zoning out, the alcohol rushing straight to my head with each sip.

“I am, Bella. You know I’m not much of a party girl,” I counter, rolling my eyes playfully.

“Tonight you are, Ember,” she laughs and takes my hand, forcing me to dance with her.

After a couple of songs and a refill, I feel much more relaxed and comfortable—not a care in the world like I had when we walked in. The pulsing beat of the music starts to fade into the background as Bella and I continue to dance, the room slightly spinning around me.

Suddenly, there’s a loud commotion near the entrance of the frat house, and looking over, I see a group of obnoxious guys stumbling in, laughing and shouting. I can feel my heart start to race as they get closer to where we’re standing, and my anxiety begins to bubble up inside of me, making my throat feel like it’s closing up.

Still fairly new to the whole college scene, I haven’t put myself out there as much as I’ve wanted to. Growing up with strict parents and a household filled with secrets and lies, college was supposed to be my escape—my grand entrance into the real world—where I’d finally get the freedom I had always longed for.

But so far, it hasn’t been anything to write home about. Being an adult isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, unfortunately. But it still beats living at home, suffocating under my mother’s possessive hold.

Bella looks at me with concern, sensing my unease. "Ember, let's go grab another drink," she suggests, leading me away from the crowded dance floor.

As we make our way to the kitchen, I can't shake the feeling of apprehension, but I try to push it aside for Bella's sake, knowing that I've already ruined one too many parties for her due to my unease.

We grab our drinks, and as we turn to head back, we notice the same group of guys now causing a scene in the living room. Bella and I exchange a worried glance, forcing smiles through the utter chaos. Just then, one of the guys spots us and starts making his way over, a cocky smile on his face. I tighten my grip on the cup in my hand, my instincts telling me that things are about to take a turn for the worse.

As I excuse myself to go to the bathroom to avoid any confrontation, I try to ignore the chill that cascades along my spine. But I can't. Especially when one of the drunk guys who's well known on campus walks behind me, tugging on my hair.

"What the fuck?" I spin around, glaring at him, ignoring the sinister smile on his face.

"Aw, Ember. Where's your school spirit?" The alcohol on his breath makes me gag, but I hold the bile down.

Trying to squeeze past him, I almost make it. But he grabs my wrist and tugs me into the closest bedroom, ignoring the piercing scream I let slip from my lips. Once inside, panic sets in, and I struggle against his grip, desperately searching for an escape.

"Let me go!" I shout, but he just grins and holds me tighter.

"Nobody is going to hear you scream over the music." My stomach sinks, and I know I'm fucked.

I try to fight him off as he pins me to the closed door—my only escape—but his hold on me is too strong, and I instantly feel like I'm failing.

“Loosen up a bit, Ember. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching,” he says, slurring his words with his mouth pressed to my ear and his breath like fire against my aching skin.

“In your fucking dreams,” I spit back, still not giving up the fight.

He manages to wrap his arm around my waist and hurl me onto the bed behind us, quickly climbing on top of me, his body weight pinning me down. I struggle, but it gets me nowhere, and before long my legs and arms feel sore and weak from the relentless fight.

He looks down at me, using one hand to undo his pants, and then lifts my dress over my hips when he gets them down. I wiggle beneath him, trying to get my knee up to slam into his groin, but it still doesn't work.

“Stop fighting, will you? I'm not going to hurt you, beautiful; I promise. We're just going to have a little fun, okay?” He smiles, brushing my hair out of my face as if we're having an intimate moment or something.

But we're not. Not by a long shot.

“Get off of me! I don't want this. I don't want any part of this,” I plead with him, but my cries fall on deaf ears as he continues his brutal assault.

Ripping my panties off, he scrapes my skin with the band from how rough he's being, leaving a slight burning feeling along my bikini line. I wince, but he chuckles, lowering his mouth to the side of my neck, where he sucks and bites roughly at my skin.

I reach around to his back and claw at his skin, leaving dark red scratches that bleed instantly. But he still doesn't care. Nothing deters him from his mission, and it's becoming quite clear what his intentions are and that he has no plan of stopping until he gets what he wants.

“Please, stop,” I beg, sobbing while feeling completely helpless.

“It'll be over real soon, Ember. I promise ,” he coos directly in my ear as he shoves my legs open and settles between them, keeping me pinned to the bed with the weight of his body.

I feel his cock rubbing against me, and I cringe, feeling the vomit churning in my stomach as he presses even harder against me. Closing my eyes tightly, a sharp, burning pain has them shooting open as he finally pushes his cock into me. My back arches and my legs flail to try to get him off of me one more time, but he refuses to budge, thrusting into me and ripping my tight, virgin muscle with the roughness of his brutal movements.

The tears fall from my eyes heavily, soaking my cheeks. But he doesn't care. He grunts and groans, thrusting away without a care in the world, while I lie here helpless, bloody, and sobbing beneath him, not sure how much longer this hell is going to last.

I'm not sure how much time passes with him on top of me, but to me it feels like an eternity. By the time he gets up and pulls his clothes back on, the tears have dried from my eyes, and I've lost my voice from screaming. The sheet beneath me is drenched in blood—along with my inner thighs—and all he does is throw me a wet rag and make me clean myself up .

"Keep your fucking mouth shut, Ember. If you speak about this to anyone and risk me losing my scholarship, I'll make your life a living fucking hell." He glares at me with threatening eyes as I clean myself up, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

Thinking he's going to leave now that he got what he wanted, I'm shocked when all he does is stand by the door, fully dressed, his eyes piercing into my soul as I sit up in bed. I can feel his presence suffocating me, like a dense fog that won’t lift. The weight of his threat hangs heavy in the air, curling around me like a noose. I look down at the rag in my hands, stained and threatening to mark my spirit just as deeply as my body.

"Did you fucking hear me?" His voice cuts through the silence, sharp enough to slice through flesh.

Instinctively, I nod, even though the gesture feels like a betrayal of everything I am—everything I believe, everything I was taught.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a smug smirk. “Because you know I can make your ass disappear.”

I want to scream, to lash out, to tell him that he doesn’t own me, that I’m not his plaything. But the words coil in my throat, each syllable weighed down by fear. He turns to face the door, and I feel a flicker of hope, a spark that maybe he's really leaving. But then he stops, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Ember?” His tone is casual, as if we’re merely engaged in small talk, not entangled in a nightmare. “You might want to think about how this could affect your life too. No one will believe you. I’m a star athlete. You’re just… you .” The smirk returns, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes, not wanting to seem weak.

As he steps out, the door clicks shut behind him, trapping me in a silence that feels like a stone in my gut. In the quiet, I finally let the tears fall freely again, staining the rag and the sheets, but this time they’re not just remnants of pain; they’re a promise to myself.

I might be isolated and scared, but I refuse to let him or his actions define me. He may have taken something from me—something fundamental—but I still have my mind, my will, my determination.

I push myself up from the bed, the bloodied sheets crumpling beneath me, and I take a deep breath. I gather my resolve and step away from the remnants of what just happened. I’ll wash the sheets; I’ll wash the rag. I’ll scrub until my skin is raw if I have to. But even I know that nothing I do will erase the brutal reminder of what just happened—what he did to me.

I look one last time at the door through which he escaped—no, not escaped, but rather scurried like a fucking coward—because it’s his fear, not mine, that keeps him at bay.

I take the rag and toss it into the nearest trash can, as if discarding that part of my life along with it. Putting my dress back on and leaving my torn underwear behind, I fix my appearance as best I can and slip out of the room to rejoin the chaos.

Holding my breath and my tears in, I frantically search for Bella, just wanting to leave—to run away from this nightmare and never look back. I make it through the house without bumping into anyone, finally spotting Bella near the door with a drink in her hand, talking to one of his teammates.

Once she sees me, she smiles, happily waving me over. I rush up to her, looping my arm through hers and holding it tightly as if she'll be able to save me from whatever hell still lies ahead. But I know she can't.

Sensing the fear in my eyes and the horror etched into my face, she pulls me outside and faces me, cupping my tear-stained cheeks in her warm hands.

"Ember, what happened?" she asks, her voice heavy with concern.

"We need to go," I tell her firmly, shaking, but not because of the cold.

"What happened, Em? Something happened, and I need to know what." She looks into my eyes, pleading with me to tell her, but I can't.

I can't bring myself to say it.

Instead, I pull out of her embrace and I run, my feet slapping against the pavement, wind blowing my matted hair behind me, and I don't stop until I reach the safety of my apartment.