While college freshmen are usually required to have a roommate, Ash’s roommate dropped out after the first semester and he was never assigned another one. That was both a curse and a blessing in Ash’s opinion since he was allowed his privacy, but he often holed himself away in his room for weeks having almost zero interactions. Those first few weeks, Ash was tentatively social going to the cafeteria with his roommate and even going out some nights to movies or plays. He was invited out for drinks a few times, but was never really a fan of the bar scene. The first night he did go out fell just short of disastrous. He was invited by some classmates in his economics course and, not wanting to be rude turning them down a third time, he agreed to meet them later at a local pub. Never one to stand out, Ash wore blue jeans and his favorite black hoodie. Never one to care for his appearance, Ash rarely looked in a mirror, but he was strikingly handsome. He was slim, but lean and was rather curvy with a narrow waist and luscious hips. Ash never thought of himself as attractive, let alone presentable, but his small nose and large amber eyes more often than not drew attention. Despite not really taking care of himself, his skin was still flawless and his hair silky. It was not quite long enough to put into a but yet, so he often brushed it up and out of his face. He thought it a small annoyance, but never noticed when others would watch him intently. That particular night a certain set of eyes followed him everywhere - from the bar to the table - with a look of hunger that was impossible to miss.

Ash was very uncomfortable and was counting down the minutes until he could leave. Ash had never drank before - his parents thought it improper behavior for an omega - and he was nervous about getting sick or losing control. His anxiety was beginning to spiral, however, so he decided a drink might be able to calm him down. Unsure what to order he asked his then roommate to get him whatever and he was handed a shot glass filled with a mystery liquid. “Bottoms up!” Everyone in the group shouted before tapping their glasses on the table and throwing back the shots. Quickly copying their motions, Ash did the same and practically gagged as the substance reached his taste buds. Those around him laughed and he was given a hardy pat on the back for taking his first shot. When offered another, he politely declined and chose to sip on beer instead. After another hour or so the group he was with decided it was time to hit the dance floor, but Ash adamantly refused saying he was too embarrassed and not fond of crowds. After a few minutes of pleading, the group finally gave up and left Ash alone at the table nursing his second beer. Relieved, Ash was content to have a few minutes to himself, but soon realized that would not be the case as he saw a large intimidating man start sauntering his way. After his run-in at the lake as a child, Ash was instinctively fearful of alphas and did his best to avoid them especially when he was alone. Unfortunately his habit of placid himself in a tucked away corner so he was out of sight also meant that he had no way to escape before the man made it over to him. He glanced between the man and the restroom wondering if he had enough time to dash over, but it was too late. The larger man was now standing in front of him, boxing Ash in between the wall and table. “Hey there cutie,” the man said, placing his hand on the table near Ash’s where he still held his beer. “What are you doin’ here all alone? Don’t tell me a pretty little thing like you came to a bar without protection?” The man seemed nice enough at this point. He was close, but hadn’t tried to touch Ash and he smelled like alcohol, but so did everything in the pub so it was hard to discern if he was drunk or not. Ash hesitated before answering quietly, “I’m not alone - my friends are just dancing.” He kept his head down keeping his eyes locked on his hands as they held the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to offend the man and accidentally make him mad, so he thought maybe if he answered quickly the man would get bored and leave. “Not a dancer, huh?” The man asked with a smirk. “That’s too bad - I bet your ass would look amazing out there.” Shocked, Ash looked up to find the man had moved closer and truly was boxing him in now. Ash had slowly moved back towards the wall, but now found himself flush against it while the man walked towards him, leisurely looking him up and down. “What’s your name beautiful?” The man asked as he placed his hand over Ash’s on the bottle. Ash immediately jerked back pushing himself as far into the wall as possible hoping that one of the people he came with would notice that he was in distress and come help him out of the situation. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice and the man drew closer now with a menacing aura. “That wasn’t very nice now was it?” His eyebrows were furrowed, and Ash was now quaking as a result of his anxiety and fear. On a dime, though, the man stopped and smiled. “How’s about you make it up to me, huh? I’ll buy you a drink even. What do ya think sweetheart?” The smile was still there, but Ash could sense the man’s anger and it terrified him. “N-no thank you,” he whispered quietly, looking down at his feet and just hoping the man would leave. Instead what he saw was the tips of the man’s boot moving in between his feet. Looking up, Ash now realized he was caged against the wall with the man’s arms on either side of his head and one of his legs trying to pin Ash to the wall. “What was that, sugar?” The man asked in a terrifying voice. “Now, I know you didn’t just turn me down, did you? A little bitch like you should know his place.” The man was seething and his words dripped with venom and he continued to move in closer to Ash’s small downturned face. “So let’s do this again, shall we?” The man asked, now taking a rough hold of Ash’s chin and forcing him to look up. “How’s about I get you a drink and we get to know each other a bit better?” Terrified, Ash stiffly nodded his head and the man smiled in approval. “Good boy,” he said, moving back slightly and straightening up. This time Ash didn’t hesitate, as he ducked under the man’s arm and ran towards the exit. “Come back here you fucking bitch!” The man screamed, but Ash was already out the door and running as fast as he could down the street. 

He ran all the way back to his dorm, and didn’t stop until he slammed and locked his room door behind him. Tears were rolling down his cheeks at this point, and his breathing was ragged. The running had held his panic attack at bay, but now everything hit him - the alcohol, the smells, the man, the fear, the night when he was a child. The ensuing panic attack was one of the worst he’d ever had and in a small period of lucidity, Ash brought out his razor and cut deeper than he ever had before. The blood pooled around him as he cut up and down his left arm: short slashes, long digging trenches, it didn’t matter so long as he could control something. At some point he blacked out from a combination of the panic and blood loss. When he awoke the next morning his arms were covered in dried blood and the salt lines from his tears were still visible on his cheeks. Ash sighed as he began his morning ritual of cleaning up. First washing the blood off his hands before cleaning the razor and scrubbing the floor. Never again would Ash go out drinking, and never again would he trust himself to be alone with an alpha.