ELAINE – 15 DAYS AGO

A week has gone by since I've been stuck in Graham's closet. Fortunately, the party only lasted an hour or so, and Graham let me go once everyone left.

During the week, I didn't gather enough strength to talk to Adora.

It was a stupid idea and I'm aware of it now. Why would she believe me? She doesn't even know me; she barely knows my name if she even remembers that. Graham is her boyfriend's friend.

Even if by some miracle she believes me, there's no way she'd get involved just like that. Blackmail crosses my mind, but it's futile. I know she's cheating on Mark, but so does Graham. We'd be blackmailing her with the same thing.

The burst of hope I've experienced in the closet is gone. I'm once again alone and frightened, but my fear evolved to a whole new level. I'm afraid of Graham. I have no idea what he's going to do to me once he gets bored.

His party is tonight. Once he tells his friends we are together, I'll stop being a dirty little secret. And everyone knows it's the secrecy that keeps the spark alive.

His message lights up my phone.

Did you try on the dress?

He sent a dress. My roommate, Amy, freaked out once she took it out of the box it came in. The dress was Givenchy; a tight, short black thing with lace overlay. The most expensive thing I've ever held in my hands.

"Your admirer must be loaded." Amy murmurs as I put the dress on, mostly because Graham will insist on the picture.

The lace scratches my skin, the dress is too revealing and the fabric is slightly too tight. Graham thinks my thighs are thinner than they truly are. But even I have to admit it's a beautiful dress.

I comb my hair and put on some mascara. Graham doesn't like it when I wear too much makeup, but he also doesn't like when I look too tired.

I glance out of the window. It's dark outside. The party is starting.

"Do you think I'll be cold in a coat?" I ask, ignoring her comment. "It's warm, but it's still March."

Amy lifts her gaze off her book, "Honey, it's April. And no, you'll be fine in a coat."

I stare at my reflection, "It's April?"

"Yeah, the 4th." Amy chuckles. "Someone's been a little lost."

The skin between my brows creases. In my head, I do the math. And then I do some more math. I take my phone and go on Instagram, checking when Josh Wright invited me to the Druid.

I don't curse a lot, I think it's crude and inelegant. I didn't even curse when Graham did what he did to me. But right now, as I realise he did it exactly nineteen days ago-

"Fuck." I whisper.

My hands fly to my boobs, and I press them both. Nothing. No pain.

No cramping. No boob pain.

And my period is four days late.

"You okay?" Amy frowns as she looks at me.

I grab my peach-coloured bag and my dark-brown coat, not really caring they don't go together, and leave the room without even glancing at Amy.

This can't be happening. My heart thuds in my chest as I rush down the stairs and out into the warm night. But Graham assaulted me nineteen days ago and my period is never late. It's never late.

I'd say it's all the stress I've been under, but... Graham raped me while I was ovulating. The exact damn day, like he sniffed it on me.

I call a cab and message Graham.

We need to talk.

I might be overreacting, but in my messed up mind, I'm hoping this will scare him off. He's weird, but he's still a twenty-one-year-old guy. This isn't what he needs in his life.

Are you okay, angel?

I want to vomit, but I keep myself composed while I'm riding in the cab. Graham is very careful to keep our messages clean, unsuspicious. Sometimes when I think he's crazy, I remember this. He knows what he's doing. He's making sure he never tells anything in the messages.

If I go to the police, our messages aren't going to tell them anything.

I'll be at the party in ten. I write back, deciding not to reveal anything myself.

The night descended on Harvard. The clock ticks 10PM, the exact time Graham told me to come to the party. It's darker than usual, there's no moon in the sky. Nervousness claws at me, combined with some strange premonition. It's like there's something in the air; something thick and tense and frightening.

The lobby of Graham's building is filled with people, but none of them look at me. I can't help but wonder whether that would change if Graham told everyone. Probably. I'd probably become the new sensation on campus.

It's only when the receptionist looks at me, smiles and waves that some people chatting in the lobby pay attention to me. Fortunately, the Givenchy dress is expensive enough not to cause alarm.

By the time I reach Graham's penthouse, I'm sweating through my coat. He never answers my message and I wonder where he is. He said he was going to wait for me by the door, but he's not here.

The emotion I feel is conflicting and strange. Despite hating him with every fibre of my being, I want him to wait for me by the door.

There's only about twenty or thirty people in the penthouse. Most of them are Graham's football teammates. Some I recognise, others I don't. These people know each other and I've just stumbled into their party. A techno beat, loud and obnoxious, thuds through the space. Smoke devours all oxygen; it's almost impossible to breathe inside.

People turn to face me; confusion colours their faces, whispers spreading amongst them. Who's this girl? What is she doing here? Does Graham know strangers are coming to his party?

"Uh, hi." I force a smile to my lips and skitter to the kitchen isle, where booze is being served.

The lighting in the penthouse is dim. Colours are changing with each minute. Pills and joints and bottles and bags full of white powder decorate the tables. Music is blasting through the speakers and people are mingling in the middle of the living room. If they only knew what I lived through in this living room, they wouldn't be smiling.

Or maybe they would. What the hell do I know?

Where are you? I type a message.

For fifteen minutes, I wait by the kitchen isle, hoping Graham would show up, but he's nowhere in sight.

More people show up; Mark Jacobs comes with Katie, that steroid-filled jock Jimmy shows up with a redhead whose name I don't know. Josh Wright is also here, and he actually waves at me and comes to talk to me.

He's wearing a dark red suit and a black shirt underneath that make his hair stand out.

"Hey, you're here." His smile is tight and lacking genuineness, and my heart aches for a moment.

For whichever reason, he truly wanted to get to know me, he wanted to take me out on a date and have a good time with me. Instead, his friend enslaved me. But he doesn't know that. He probably thinks I used him to get closer to Graham.

"Yes." My smile is just as genuine as his. "Having fun?"

"Not really." Josh lifts his glass, full of water. "Gotta go to the doctor's tomorrow morning. Can't stay long and have to drink water. It kinda makes you realise these parties are only fun when you're able to get drunk."

I lift my glass of white wine, "On it."

"Elaine," Josh opens his mouth, but doesn't finish the sentence. "Nevermind. Have fun."

"Josh," I call, and for a moment, his eyes are hopeful. "Have you seen Graham anywhere?"

The hope disappears, "No. But I think he's going to show up at midnight."

"Seriously?" I frown.

"He's a drama queen." Josh shrugs and turns away from me. "Anyway, enjoy the party."

"You too." I smile thinly.

Hours tick away. The crowd is getting bigger and I'm getting drunker. White wine slides down my throat easier with each gulp. By the time the clock ticks midnight, I'm not sure I can even say my name properly.

Just like Josh said he would, Graham shows up at midnight, and a bunch of people rush to his side to congratulate him on turning twenty-two. I linger on the side lines, hoping to catch him later when there's no one buzzing around him.

I pour myself another glass when I catch Adora Arison standing by the door; a gorgeous, dark-green silk dress on, a pissed off expression on her face and a peach-coloured bag, similar to mine, in her hand. Except, well, hers is Dior.

The moment she enters, the strangest thing happens. The door behind her bursts open, and a bunch of people enter the party. Unlike the people invited, these aren't dressed in the finest designer clothing and they're not drinking expensive champagnes and wine. They're dressed in skimpy, revealing outfits and they're bringing beer kegs.

Ripped jeans, ripped stockings, pierced noses and ears, beer spilling everywhere, cigarette buds falling off onto the carpet and parquet, plastic red cups, and a lot of screaming.

They're like ants, running over every empty surface of the penthouse. I hold onto my glass as they devour the kitchen island. Elbows bump into me, beer spills all over my Givenchy dress, and people scream into my ears.

I'm afraid to move anywhere else and for God knows how much time, I just stand there, pressed against the kitchen island,

"Where's Graham?" The voice I recognise reaches me.

I take in Adora Arison, leaned against the kitchen isle, staring at me. Her hazel eyes skitter across my dress, her eyebrow jumps up, but she doesn't comment.

"I- I've no idea." I stutter, realising I've lost Graham in the crowd again.

"Goddammit." Adora murmurs. "Let me know if you see him, will you?"

"What- what's going on here? Who are these people?" I ask.

"Them?" Adora nods towards the raging bunch. "I've phoned everyone who looks like they jumped out of a Kesha music video."

Adora reaches for the bottle of gin over the counter and starts talking to someone.

In the corner of my eye, I notice a dark, familiar figure unlocking the door to the rooftop.

I grab my bag and walk away without saying another word to Adora. If she wants to find Graham, she can go look for him after I'm done talking to him.

I move through the crowd quickly, pushing them away with my elbows. The party turned into a rager and it's barely 1AM. Music is blasting through the speakers, people are jumping all around, ruining furniture, spilling drinks, waking the neighbours. Josh is nowhere in sight, so I assume he's gone home. Mark Jacobs and his friend Jimmy are busy trying to outdrink one another.

No one notices me as I push the rooftop door open, which is hidden behind a half-wall, and climb up the narrow, wooden staircase.

There's something incredibly romantic about Graham's rooftop, if such an adjective can be given to anything related to Graham. The place overlooks the city of Boston; the bustling crowds scurrying through the streets, the flickering streetlights, and the dark, moonless sky embracing the city, which looks like a shimmering jewel amidst the darkness.

Graham stands near the fence guarding the rooftop. The breeze blows through his black hair and his shirt, his hands are in his pockets, and he's not looking at me.

"You wanted to talk." He speaks.

Here comes nothing.