Page 18 of Beautiful Delusions

The DJ's voice booms through the speakers, telling all of the girls who dressed to impress to get their asses on the dancefloor and show him some moves. I glance down at Letty’s dress on my body. The way it moves with my every step, hugging my curves…well, I’m trying my best to feel empowered.

"Let's get a drink!" Letty shouts over the music, pulling me by the hand through the throng of people. We elbow our way to the bar as a group. I let the girls form a circle of protection around me. My chest tightens, the roar of the crowd causing tremors deep within. Once upon a time, the noise and amount of people wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. I have to keep reminding myself that no one is even looking my way. I’m just another number to the body count, nothing else. I can do this. I will do this.

Taking the glass bottle Letty hands me, I swallow it down without reading the label, trying to quell the anxiety swirling inside. It burns my throat, and I hiss, half choking as she grabs my left wrist and drags me into the sea of bodies. I go into full fight-or-flight, twisting my scarred wrist from her grip with too much force.

"Relax, Sophia!" Letty exclaims, tugging me onto the dance floor. "It’s all just a bit of fun!" For the briefest moment, I stand and watch Letty throw her arms in the air and dance with the biggest smile on her face. Jealously courses through me. How easy it is for some people, while the rest of us struggle just getting out of bed some days. I want to be like her more than I care to admit. Downing the drink in my hand, I put it in some stranger’s hand and dive forward.

I’m beyond awkward. Off beat, always missing the moments where the music dies, and everyone knows to still, but I’m going for it. Swaying my hips, rolling my hands to and fro. When the floor is this crowded, it doesn’t matter what I do–no one can see beyond their own cramped bubble anyway. Soon enough, the music becomes a balm to my frayed nerves, and impossibly, I feel something akin to peace. There's an odd sense of freedom in being surrounded by so many people yet remaining utterly anonymous.

As the night progresses, I drink more and dance harder, forgetting my earlier concerns. The bar quickly becomes a place of comfort, its vibrant shots and spirits a lifeline I quickly come to depend on. Once I become familiar and on a first-name basis with Antonio, the bartender, the rest of my inhibitions melt away. Jazzie doesn’t make an appearance, her voice not loud enough to be heard. I completely tune out my own instincts, discovering the ease with which laughter bubbles from my mouth as the room starts to tilt slightly.

"Having fun?" Letty grins as she twirls me around, her giggling ringing clear above the pounding music.

"Actually, yeah," I admit, surprised at myself. Free from the constraints and expectations of the university, for once, I feel normal. Somewhere along the way, I can forget all about the Thorn Brothers. Their desires, their demands, their contract.

Hands settle on my ass, and I quickly shake them off, spinning closer to the girls I came here with. Many have paired off, finding partners for the evening. I have an undeniable sense I’m being watched, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, but I also know I have a knack for being my own worst enemy. Nothing a trip back to Antonio can’t fix.

“Back again?” he smiles, ignoring all the others bidding for his attention to lean on the bar and focus on me. “Either you have incredible stamina, or you’re flattering me.”

“Wouldn’t option three be that I have a problem?” I raise a brow, accepting the cocktail he hands me. I’m fairly certain it was meant for someone else.

“Having a reason to keep visiting me isn’t a problem at all,” Antonio winks. He’s a handsome enough guy, but unfortunately for him, I’ve been rather spoiled with good looks back on campus. Holding his gaze, I realize through my buzzed state, I’m searching for something more. I quickly decide it’s the possessive edge I’ve come to expect. I take the drink, turning away and digging for my phone in my cleavage. There are two texts waiting for me.

Lucas: ‘That essay had better be finished. You won’t be able to string a sentence together once I get back and do everything I’m imagining to you.’

Kyan: ‘Word of warning, Lucas won’t stop talking about you. It’s likely he’s forgotten if anyone is having you tonight, it’s me.’

I didn’t expect a message from Ezra. To be fair, I didn’t expect a message from any of them. Jazzie appears at a high standing table nearby, just as my self-doubt starts to settle in. I can’t hear her over the music, but her lips are easy enough to read. ‘Oh, they’re going to be pissed.’ My knees threaten to give out.

Peering back across the dance floor, I spot Letty’s head bobbing amongst the rest. Slipping my drink, it doesn’t seem to taste as good anymore. I wanted freedom. Or at least, I thought I did. But from the outside looking in, and from the giddiness those messages have fluttering through me, my perspective has shifted. Instead of enjoying being a nobody lost to the crowd, I frown. I’m just another number in here. Another patron for the bar, another body for strangers to grind against. Why did being the same as everyone else seem so appealing? Lucas chose me for being the direct opposite of that.

Tucking my phone away, I skate around the side of the club, making a beeline for the restrooms. That nagging feeling of being watched returns. My gaze flits from face to face, searching for any sign of the Thorn Brothers. My heart shudders. But they're not here, I tell myself. It's just my imagination, which is probably for the best because they will indeed be pissed I’ve snuck out and defied them. Still, now the seed of doubt has been planted, I can't seem to shake it off.

The line for the restrooms is so long, some have decided to use the hallway as an extended dancefloor. I rest against the wall, trying to settle my mind. Where my thoughts usually tumble on a never-ending loop, the alcohol only intensifies them. The ground beneath my feet doesn’t feel solid, the wall shifting as I struggle to find a comfortable spot against it. A whimper escapes my lips, and I briefly wonder if I’m going to be sick.

Should have stayed home and taken a Klonopin, Jazzie reminds me. I couldn’t agree more. As the minutes tick byand the line barely inches forward, the pressure in my bladder becomes too much to ignore.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath. Drunk and impatient, I make a rash decision. Stumbling out of the hallway, I dodge a series of couples tucked beneath the overhang of the balcony, making out and moaning. I’m fully convinced some are having full-on sex, the musty smell of sweat stronger here than anywhere else. Between them, a slither of cool air draws me towards a side door, which promptly deposits me into an alley. I look around, my eyesight not quite quick enough to follow the spinning of my head. The alleyway is damp and stinks of stale beer, but I’m alone. Thank fuck.

Squatting behind one of the many dumpsters, I relieve myself with my head in my hands. If this isn't the initiation to becoming a fully-fledged uni student, I don't know what is. Feeling completely mortified, I shake like I have a tail and pull up my panties. Stepping out from behind the dumpster, I half-stagger towards the metal door when a group of masked men appear seemingly out of nowhere, crowding me against the cold brick wall. Ski masks cover their faces, their bodies hidden in a sea of black clothing which bleeds in our surroundings. My breath catches.

“I-I don't have anything–" I stammer, catching myself. Three figures stand stoically, cocking their heads at me with keen intensity. Motherfuckers. They move as one, grabbing my arms and pinning me against the wall. The cold seeps through the thin dress at my back, causing me to gasp. The drunken buzz makes me more responsive, the images of what they’re capable of flashing before my eyes. This is perfect. Let them hunt me down, punish me in all the ways they’ve been promising.

A hand closes around my throat, tight enough to just about hurt. I don’t resist. Dark chuckles sound from my captors, their breath clouding in front of them. The one in the center,which I decide has the same body type as Kyan, runs a finger suggestively down my chest towards my skirt. Fingers tease the hem of the fabric when a sense of resolve bursts through me.

“Wait,” my brows crease. They don’t stop, their grip on my wrists ironclad. Boots nudge my legs widen as a calloused hand touches my thigh. How did they even find me? Are they tracking my phone, keeping tabs? This is my night to feel free. My chance to experience student life without them crowding me. They don’t get to crash in and take control.

Rotating my wrists in a sudden flash of movement, I twist violently and manage to shake off one of the hands. Luckily, my compliance up until now has left them unprepared. I follow through with a swift elbow to the gut of the man holding my other arm. There's a grunt, a sudden exhalation of air that tells me I've hit my mark. My heart beats a wild rhythm in my chest as adrenaline floods my veins. Jazzie is cheering for me, screaming to give these boys a taste of their own medicine. They mean to scare me, but I'm not some poor defenseless girl they can manipulate. Barring stupid decisions that have brought me to this point, I've learned to take care of myself.

The grip on my other arm loosens just enough for me to slide out from between them, twisting in a way that might have been graceful if not for the lingering alcohol buzz. My heels stumble over the rough concrete, but I find my footing and bolt down the alleyway. Any semblance of control ends there.

Behind me, the stillness is shattered by curses and heavy footsteps. The world spins around me, blurring into a chaotic mess as I run blindly. I hear their footfalls growing louder. Something about the scenario becomes very real, as does the terror leaking through my chest. Every part of me screams to press on and find safety inside the club. Just a few more steps and I'll be surrounded by people, safe from their reach. But before I do, I want to drive the message home. I won't beintimidated. I won't sit around like a good little pet waiting for them to make all the decisions.

Slowing my pace slightly, I step over the threshold of the club, glancing back to see two are close behind. The idea an inebriated Jazzie whispers to me is as wild and impulsive as the wind whipping at my hair.

"Was this supposed to scare me?" I challenge them, my voice trembling only slightly. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that." Without warning, I strike. My heel connects with a chest, and he tumbles backward onto the damp concrete, a tangle of flailing limbs and painful grunts. Please let it be Ezra. Slamming the door closed, I drop the latch to lock the slab of metal between us. Excitement and something darker bolsters my strides towards the dance floor. It’s power, I quickly realize. This is what they thrive on, and I now understand why.

Halfway towards the group of girls I came here with, my phone buzzes in my cleavage. I bark a laugh and hit the answer button.

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