Chapter 13 Not This Time
Rick froze when he saw me in the doorway. Shirtless, jeans half unbuttoned, like he’d been caught mid-act.
The girl lay sprawled on the bed behind him.
Naked.
Unconscious.
But still untouched.
Relief hit first.
Then the rage followed.
I didn’t say a word. I lifted my phone and hit record.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rick barked.
“You have exactly ten seconds,” I said quietly, “to get the fuck away from her.”
He scoffed, but something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty. Good.
I stepped further into the room, angling the phone so both of them were in frame.
“She’s just drunk,” he muttered. “She wanted—”
“She’s unconscious,” I cut in. “And you drugged her. Three boys downstairs are bragging about it. I have them on video too.”
I didn’t.
He didn’t need to know that.
“Bullshit,” he snapped.
“Try me,” I said. “One more step toward her, and this footage goes to your coach, your parents, and every college scout in a hundred-mile radius. And if she decides to press charges? I’ll hand over everything. This is a life-ruining felony, Rick. Think very carefully.”
His jaw tightened. He wasn’t used to being challenged.
“Get. Out.”
For a moment, I wondered if he’d try something.
Lunge at me. Knock the phone out of my hand. Call my bluff.
But fear got there first.
I saw it in the way his jaw tightened, in the quick flick of his eyes to the phone, to the girl, back to me.
He grabbed his shirt.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he muttered, already backing toward the door. “You’re twisting—”
“Get out,” I said.
That was all it took.
He shoved past me, muttering under his breath, and stormed down the hall.
I shut the door behind him and locked it.
Then I dragged the dresser from the far wall and wedged it under the doorknob, muscles shaking from adrenaline. Wood scraped loudly across the floor, but I didn’t care.
No one else was stepping foot in here tonight.
Only then did I turn to the girl.
Amy.
The name surfaced from my memories.
She didn’t stir when I called her name or touched her shoulder. Not even when I shook her harder.
I checked her pulse. Steady. Strong. Her skin was flushed but not cold or clammy. Drugged, but alive.
I gathered her clothes from the floor and dressed her methodically. The way I once wished someone had done for me.
She murmured nonsense under her breath, eyes unfocused, head rolling weakly to the side.
Leaving her alone wasn’t an option. I didn’t know her address. Her friends. Whether she even had any nearby. And I remembered what happened to her in my first life. How no one had been there when she needed someone most.
So I stayed.
I turned on the small lamp on the desk and sat on the floor beside the bed, my back against the wall, knees pulled up. The bass from downstairs thumped like a distorted heartbeat. Occasionally someone yelled or laughed drunkenly in the hallway. But up here, in this room, it was just us.
I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. And waited.
And, because I couldn't stop myself, my thoughts drifted to my past life and later to the girls I had been held with. How the light in their eyes vanished after each assault. How, by the end, they all had the same hollow, dead gaze. They were always so young.
It was nearly five in the morning when Amy finally regained consciousness.
Her eyes fluttered open, glassy but aware enough to understand she wasn’t where she should be.
She jerked, breath catching.
“Hey,” I said softly, leaning in. “Easy. You’re okay.”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “What… happened?”
“You were drugged,” I said. “But you weren’t hurt. I got here in time.”
Her breath hitched, then shuddered out of her. Shame moved across her face.
“Do you want me to call the cops?”
“I… I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “My brother… he’s a cop. He’d lose his mind. And I…” Her voice cracked. “I liked him. Rick. I thought he liked me back.”
She let out a weak, broken laugh.
“Guess I’m just the idiot nerd who should’ve known better.”
I didn’t sugarcoat it.
“I’m not calling anyone unless you want me to,” I said. “It’s your decision.”
She stared at me and a tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it quickly, embarrassed. “I just… want to go home.”
“Then home it is.”
I ordered an Uber and helped her down the stairs, keeping her close when she swayed.
She leaned into me more than she probably realized, her steps uneven, her body still heavy from whatever they had given her.
Neither of us spoke.
When we pulled up outside her house, she hesitated at the curb.
Still trembling.
Still ashamed.
Still so painfully young.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” I offered.
She nodded, grateful. I stayed by her side until she was safely inside. She turned once before closing the door.
“Thank you, Ashley. Really.”
I blinked. Surprised she even knew my name. I only nodded and turned back to the waiting car. Leaning back against the seat, I stared out the window as the city blurred past.
Going home.
Back to the family who hadn’t believed me the first time.
Back to my parents who might have been involved in the horrors that destroyed my life.
Back to rotten Apple.
I needed answers.
And this time, I wasn’t a na?ve girl hoping and begging for their love.