ELAINE – 20 DAYS AGO

Graham throws my clothes on his bed. I whimper on the floor, tears are pouring down my cheeks, my hands are shaking. Disgust trails down my spine and I hug my knees, pulling them to my chest.

I'm naked. My arms are bruised. My body hurts.

Night has fallen. Graham's party is starting soon and I'm worried and scared. He'd throw me out by now, he wouldn't risk someone seeing me. But it's late and people are on their way and I'm still in his room.

"Get dressed, angel." Graham commands and goes through his own closet. "You'll catch a cold."

I wipe my tears away, my voice stutters, "Can I go home, please?"

"No."

I swear my heart stops beating for a second.

"But- but people will be here soon!" Another flood of tears threatens to spill. "They'll see me, they'll hear me. Graham, please, I- I don't want to cause trouble."

"You've already caused trouble, angel." Graham picks a black, perfectly-fitting suit.

"No, no." I whimper and crawl to the bed. "I've been good. You know I've been good."

"You didn't listen to me when I told you to touch me." Graham doesn't look at me while I snatch my hoodie and jeans from the bed. "You protested."

"I'm sorry!" Pain squeezes my chest. "I won't do it again, I promise!"

"How will you ever learn if I don't punish you?" Graham puts the suit on.

He looks like the devil; black hair, black suit, evil, protruding eyes. I feel like I'm in hell and I wonder what I did to deserve this. Why me? Why did it have to be me?

"Graham, please..." I try again, but my voice is dying out.

That's what I am, a whisper, less than a whisper.

"If you keep protesting, I might have to keep you here for a few days." Finally, he looks at me.

The scariest part are his eyes. They're gentle and loving, with just a touch of malice underneath. Barely noticeable destructions shines through the piercing blue. I wonder sometimes whether in his twisted mind he truly believes he loves me. I wonder whether he knows what he's doing is wrong.

And then I see that sadistic glint and I know he's enjoying it. He loves watching the light inside me die.

"What am I supposed to do here?" I ask, knowing full well I'll do whatever he wants me to do.

"Stay inside." Graham says. "And if someone wants to use my bedroom, you will go to the closet and watch closely what's happening. Maybe you'll learn something."

I'm already too humiliated and too ashamed to argue. I'm in too deep.

So I nod, put my clothes on and crawl back into the corner, where I hug my knees again and drop my head down.

"My birthday is in three days." Graham says suddenly. "I hope you've thought about the present. Because I have a present for you."

"What?" I glance up. "What kind of a present?"

"I'm having a huge party next Saturday." Graham stares in the mirror and fixes his hair. "I want you to come."

No.

No, no, no!

"Graham..."

"Shh." Graham puts his finger on his lips and stares at me in the mirror. His piercing blue eyes turn slightly darker, more intimidating. "You deserve a present. I know you want everyone to know we're together."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." I dare to speak. "What if someone finds out...?"

"That we love each other?" Graham smiles. "Nothing would make me happier."

"Next week, you say?" I swallow my nervousness. "I don't think I'll be available next week, I have to visit home and-"

"Don't lie to me, Elaine." Graham's voice turns gentler and his eyes rougher. "I can tell when you're lying. Your gaze starts dancing around the room. You will be at my party next Saturday."

That's it. He has no shame.

For a moment, I thought he kept me a secret because he knew this was wrong. But he doesn't think it's wrong. He's proud of it. And he wants everyone to know.

I don't speak, and for once, he doesn't make me.

"And Elaine?" Graham glances at me again. "I wouldn't scream if I were you. No one will hear you either way."

Like I'd ever be strong or brave enough to scream.

Like I'd ever find it in me to fight him.

When he steps out and locks the door behind him, I know I'll be his puppet for as long as he wants me. Hope inside me slowly dies, until there's nothing left.

The night falls quickly; the darkness devours the entire room. I don't want to turn on the light. The darkness helps me imagine I'm somewhere else; my dorm room, my room back home, anywhere. I'd be happier anywhere else.

After an hour or so, I can't even cry anymore. My tears are dry, my soul is torn in half, but I can't feel anything.

People are slowly gathering in Graham's penthouse. I can hear their muffled voices. Their happiness and carefreeness hurts me, haunts me. I don't want them to be happy. I want them to hate him as much as I hate him.

But they laugh with him, talk to him, engage with him.

I know they can't possibly know, but I hate them for not guessing, for not sniffing out my rotting soul behind the closed doors.

If I kill myself, they'll feel guilty. They'll be at my funeral and say nice things and wonder why they hadn't noticed something was off. I want this guilt for them. Selfishly, I want them to be just as miserable as I am.

Maybe some of Graham's evil rubbed off on me. Maybe being in hell for so long made me deserve it.

I stay in the room for hours; ruminating over everything. I glance at my phone and the dozen messages awaiting my answer. It's mostly my mom. A few are from Myrtle an Sarah, demanding to know if we're going to study tomorrow. I can't study, I can't even stay focused long enough to read a sentence.

It's 1AM. Graham's party is at its peak. I wonder how much longer I'll have to stay in this dark room.

A whiny voice reaches my ears through the door, "Graham, can we use your room to talk?"

Shit.

I jump off the floor, grab my peach-coloured bag and rush to the closet. If someone sees me here... they'll think I'm the weird one. They'll come up with their own stories to protect Graham. He'll say he didn't know I was here and they'll accuse me of being his stalker.

So I open the door of he closet and walk in. It's big enough for me to fit, but it's still making me claustrophobic.

A few seconds later, someone turns on the dim lamplight.

"Gosh!" A whiny female voice reaches me. "I am wasted!"

I can't see anything through the closet door, only the slight rays of light peeking through the cracks. But I can hear well enough.

"Me too, goddamn." A male voice follows; deep, familiar.

It's Mark Jacobs. But the girl doesn't sound like Adora Arison. Adora's voice is more serious, melodious. This girl sounds high-pitched, slightly fake. But I remember that voice from somewhere.

"We're partying way too much." The girl slurs and lands on the bed with a thud. "Gosh, my head is freaking spinning."

It's the drunken slur that makes me remember who she is. It's Katie, the girl from the Druid.

"I don't think we're partying enough." Mark's chuckle sounds closer now and I guess he's sitting on the armchair next to the closet.

I even my breathing and force myself to relax. The last thing I need right now is a panic attack. If they see me, Graham will kill me.

A thought that hasn't yet crossed my mind does so now. Throughout the past two weeks, I've been thinking Graham would eventually get bored with me and find someone else to torture. But what if he doesn't let me go? What if he truly and really kills me?

Red and yellow spots appear in front of my eyes. Graham's smell is filling my nostrils; thick and suffocating. Mark and Katie talk about something, but I can't focus. My chest tightens, air won't pass through my throat. What if Graham kills me?

The survival instinct wakes up; weak, and almost non-existent, but in my lethargic state, even the slightest change causes a tidal wave of emotions. Maybe I can't just hope Graham will leave me alone. There's got to be something I can do.

My breathing evens out on its own.

"So..." Katie whispers. "Is everything okay?"

Her voice is so full of obvious want it's almost laughable. I focus on their conversation, deciding there's nothing better to do anyway. Fortunately, the muffled music coming through the walls shushes my ragged breaths.

"What do you mean?" Mark asks.

The smell of weed travels through the cracks on the closet door. Great, now I'm most definitely going to suffocate.

Katie hesitates for a moment, then adds in an even lower whisper, "Adora's not here."

"She went home." Mark shifts in his seat, the armchair drags across the floor. I'm guessing he handed the joint to Katie.

"Are you two in a fight?" Katie's voice jumps weirdly.

Mark lets out a chuckle, "Why would we be in a fight?"

Even I can feel the tension through the closet door and for a moment I wonder whether I'm going to have to endure them sleeping together while in here.

"I don't know." Katie inhales sharply. "It just seems weird for her to go home."

"She just hates Graham, that's all."

My eyes widen in the darkness. I'm suddenly glued to the closet door, my breath stuck in my throat, my heart steadily beating.

"What?" Katie lets out a loud, fake laugh. "Why?"

"She thinks he's a creep." Mark laughs back. "So, she decided to skip the party."

The rest of their conversation fades as my mind goes over what Mark has said. Everyone loves Graham. He's one of Harvard's favourites, a Porcellian member and Harvard Crimson's quarterback. Hearing someone didn't like him filled me to the brim with renewed hope.

Adora Arison hates Graham.

And if she hates him, she might believe me.