PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF HEAVY CONTENT AHEAD -- LIST OF CONTENT WARNINGS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

[Image Caption: Nick and Samir in Samir's dorm room.]

The following day, I begin to feel all right. I had to shoot my teacher an email asking for an extension. He agreed to give me one. So, I'll be handing my essay in on Friday.

In the evening, I head for the bathroom. It feels good to finally get clean. I take a long shower, scrubbing my face, my limbs and everything else as hard as I can. I feel like I need to compensate, I suppose. I feel filthy and grimy.

When I'm done, I wrap a towel around my waist and brush my teeth. Staring at myself in the mirror is depressing. I look exhausted and ugly. I eye myself for a few minutes after brushing my teeth, trying not to be overly critical of myself. I've been sleeping for days, but I still look and feel tired.

Then I notice bruises. I probably got them when I was trashed on Friday. I have some on my upper arms and forearms and when I turn around I see a big one on my back. I guess that's why I've been sore.

It's a co-ed shower and I spot Samantha entering when I'm putting my toothbrush away in my bag. "Hey," she greets me and I can tell she's eying the marks. “You okay?”

I nod at her.

"Been a while since anyone has seen you around.”

"I had the flu, not that it’s any of your business," I decide to say, whether or not it's even the truth. I don't know at this point.

Samantha huffs at me, but doesn't ask any more questions. Good. I don't even want to be looked at right now let alone quizzed.

I head back to my room and this time I lock my door. I still have a raging headache and can't deal with talking to people right now. I'm pissed off that this is all happening right now at the start of the semester. I don't need something to distract or set me back. All I want is to fucking remember what happened.

I pull on a pair of sweats and a tee, drying my hair with the towel.

Maybe Corinne was right. Maybe I should talk to Ivy.

I put on socks and slippers and then head to the common room. I don't see Ivy, but I see her roommate, Helena, sitting at what appears to be a study group. She's a short girl with long, black hair and straight-cut bangs. 

I don't really know her. She's not much of a partier and seems shy. If she wasn't, maybe I would've tried to fuck her by now. She's the type I usually go after - conventionally hot. Personality matter less.

"Helena," I say her name.

She glances at me, looking surprised that I'm talking to her. "Samir?"

"Do you know where Ivy is?" I ask.

"In our room," Helena answers. "Want me to walk you there?"

"Sure," I say, since I have no idea where the fuck it is.

She stands up, ditching the group of people she is with to walk me up a few floors and down a hallway. The door is decorated with a flowery sign: Ivy and Helena!

I probably would have found it on my own after all.

Helena opens the door and greets Ivy, who’s sitting on her bed. There’s a laptop open in front of her and she glances up, looking confused to see me standing with her friend. I'm not exactly the kind of person who keeps in touch with flings. Reading the situation, Helena leaves us alone. I take a step inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Ivy," I greet her.

"Hey," she responds.

I don't want to make this any more awkward than it already is, so I ask her directly. 

"I was wondering if I talked with you at all Friday night at that frat party?"

She looks a little surprised that I'm here to ask such a simple question. "Yeah," Ivy nods, "Towards the start of the night, but not for very long."

"Did you see where I went afterwards?"

Fuck, this is embarrassing.

"Um…" She looks contemplative. "Some guy. I think his name is Zack?”

"Okay, thanks." I sigh.

She gives me a concerned look, but I don't stick around to let it sink in or for her to start asking questions. I head back down to my room and fish my phone out of my bed sheets. I'm lucky enough to have Zack's number in my phone, even though we never talk anymore.

I click his name and it rings a few times before he finally answers. "Hello?" comes his gruff voice.

"Hi," I say. "It's Samir."

"Oh, uh, hey."

He probably thinks it's weird that I'm calling. We were close, but not now. We didn’t really hang out for the right reasons. 

Since I'm not in the mood to play tag, I don't ask to meet him. I'll just do this over the phone. "Was I with you on Friday?"

"For a sec," he says before starting to chortle. "You were so out of it, man."

I want to tell him that it's not funny, but I don't. "Okay, well, where did I go afterwards?" I pry.

"What's this about?"

"None of your business," I insist.

"Well, then maybe I don't know the answer."

God, what a dick.

"I got black-out drunk," I decide to tell him. "I just want to make sure I didn't make a fool out of myself."

"I saw you with Nick," Zack decides to say.

I pause. 

"Nick…?"

What a wild goose chase this is turning into. This isn't how I wanted to spend my day.

"Thanks," I tell him, and then I hang up the phone. I don't really care to talk any further especially if he's going to act like a jerk.

Even after all these years, I barely know Nick. I don't know why I was approaching him. I don't even have any of his contact info, so I decide to text Corinne for it. She's going to ask me what it's about, which I don't want to answer. I don't want to think that I could have possibly tried anything weird with Nick—he's the biggest loudmouth on campus. Since I was so messed up, maybe I thought he was someone else—that's the only feasible explanation.

Corinne texts me back a few minutes later, giving me her cousin's digits and asking me why I want them. I don't respond. I simply click on the numbers and send Nick a message stating my name and purpose for contacting him.

I feel like I'm waiting too long for him to respond, so I decide to wander around a bit and see if I can spot him in the common room. He hangs around there a lot. He seems social.

No such luck, though. When I'm making my way back to my room, my phone starts ringing in my pocket. Great. Nick has decided to call me back. I clear my throat and then answer with a simple, "Hello?"

"Yo, Zhouri," he greets me by my surname. "I really hate texting when I have more than a few words to say, so I thought I'd call."

"I don't like phone calls," I decide to respond.

"Well, I don't feel like texting," he dismisses. "I'm bad at it. I can come find you instead, if yah want? Are you in your room?"

"For fuck's sake, just tell me what I want to know," I say. He's starting to stress me out.

"Seriously let's just meet in your room or you can come to mine since you hate phone calls so much," Nick insists.

Jesus christ. What the fuck does he need to tell me?

"Fine," I hiss. So, I give him the room number.

"Great!" I hear the other line click as Nick hangs up.

I stick my phone in my pocket and start heading back up to the second floor. If I have to do this with him, I want to be on my own turf at least.

When I get there, Nick is already waiting and looking eager. Ugh. He backs out of the way as I unlock my door and we both head inside.

"So, you want to know if we talked on Friday?" he reaffirms, sitting down on my bed. I wish he wouldn't. I don't like people touching my stuff.

I nod, but don't give him any further details.

"Well… you could say we talked," he continues.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know, you have a dirty, little mouth," he points out offhandedly.

"I don't give a fuck. Get on with the story."

"You were trashed as hell," he continues. "You tried to throw yourself at me, but I wasn't about to take advantage of you – no matter how much you wanted it." I gape at him, unable to say a fucking word before he cracks a smile and starts to laugh. "I'm kidding!”

Before I can help myself I shove him. He falls back onto my mattress, still giggling to himself like he just told the funniest joke in the fucking world.

"You're an asshole," I conclude.

"Aw, you don't even know me!"

"Get on with the fucking story, Underwood," I spit. "And make sure it's the real one this time."

"Okay okay," he relents, rubbing his stubbly chin. "I'll admit you were acting kind of weird though."

"How?" I ask sternly.

"You had a hard time talking and you sounded fucked up. You were slurring incoherently." Nick shrugs. "You just kept asking for Corinne. I was a little worried you might pass out. I tried to text her to come find you but I didn't even get to send the message before you took off."

"I just asked for Corinne?" I eye him wearily. It doesn't seem like it could be the whole truth.

Nick leans back on my bed. "You probably just wanted to find a familiar face, but don’t worry about it. Rough nights happen to the best of us." He pauses and then adds, "Koda had a rough night a couple weekends ago, too. Don't feel bad."

"I was hung over for three fucking days," I murmur. I don't know what makes me say it. I guess I feel desperate. I want him to fish his empty head for whatever else he might've seen or heard from me.

Three days seems ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that I still feel like crap. I don't know how long it will take for me to feel a hundred percent again.

Fuck, why do I always need to learn things the hard way?

"Hm…" Nick muses. "The alcohol must've hit you like a bag of bricks."

"I guess."

I feel really disheartened. I'm not getting anywhere. Maybe I really am just sick and this is all for nothing. I doubt anyone even saw me go home.

"Wait," Nick says with a start, "I do remember seeing you again a little before I left. You were hanging off someone who didn't look like a freshman. I think he was a junior or senior but I haven't really seen him around before."

I just stare at him. I don't know how to make heads or tails of a piece of information like that. I don't know anyone older at this school.

"What did he look like?" I ask, trying to sound apathetic. I don't want him to start making assumptions about me or my sexuality. Those are private things that the general public doesn't know about and I want to keep it that way.

Nick shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Pretty generic. I probably wouldn't even recognize him if I saw him again. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A bit of a beard. Kind of douchey. Not especially attractive. He was probably a frat bro."

"Gross," I mutter before I can help it.

Nick tilts an eyebrow.

"And I was 'hanging off' him?" I pry.

He nods. "You were pretty out of it. Maybe he was helping you or something. I'm not sure."

I don't know why he would be. He would have no reason to—we aren't friends.

"Okay," I say firmly. "Thanks for your help."

I'm trying to mask my concern, and I think it's working. Nick doesn't seem overly suspicious.

I nod my head towards the door, but he doesn't take the hint. "You can go now," I tell him finally.

Nick scowls at me but I don't care. I'm not trying to impress him. I could care less if he thinks I'm mean, I would rather that than him think I'm weak. Besides, he's Corinne's cousin and she can shut him up if necessary. She’s kinda butch. 

Eventually he gives in and leaves without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.

I let out a breath, putting a palm over my forehead. That night is still a big, gaping hole in my mind and the more I try to think about it, the less sure I become.

***

When I stop thinking so hard, I begin to get flashes – little pieces of Friday night coming back to me. I see myself grab Nick's arm and give him a shake, asking him if he saw where Corinne went. It's not important and it's nothing Nick didn't already reveal to me, but it's something at least. Maybe pieces will continue to come back. All I can do is hope. I want to put that night to rest and I can't until I know exactly what happened.

I try to work on my essay. The research is a welcome distraction from the constant state of panic I've been in.

On Tuesday, I see Corinne. I tell her that I talked to Ivy and that it didn't get me anywhere—just a dead end to Zack and Nick.

"That's why you wanted Nick's number," she says thoughtfully. "Why didn't you ever get back to me?"

"I got busy," I tell her.

Corinne gives me an uneasy look. I can tell she's bothered by the fact that I'm still stuck on this. Frankly, I am too.

On Wednesday, I remember my conversations with Zack and Ivy. Well, partial conversations anyway. I don't really know what I said to them. Before that, I think I was with Corinne and some others, but I'm unsure. My connection between my time with my friends and my time with Ivy seems fuzzy.

I hate being out of the loop - especially when it comes to anything involving myself. It's driving me up the damn wall. I just want to be assured that I didn't say or do anything stupid. I probably didn’t since no one brought it up, but I need to know for sure.

I mean it when I say I don't ever want to drink again. At this rate, I probably won't for a while. If I don't know how I got here then it could happen again.

I need to remember something that explains what happened just before I got to my room. Who was I with? Some guy? What a vague answer. If he helped me, then I should thank him. I just wish I knew who the fuck it was. The campus is so huge I doubt I'll ever know, though. I feel like I'm shit out of luck.

When I wake up Thursday morning I go take a shower. The bruise on my back is still dark while the others are starting to fade to a greenish-purple. They're hard to look at so I try not to linger in front of the mirror for too long.

I'm washing my hair when I remember what I was doing before I ran into Ivy—I went to get another drink. Someone had pre-pours from the cooler into solo cups that were set out on the plastic tables they use at all the frat parties. When I came up looking for more I was handed a cup off the table. I just took it—I didn't think about it. I was already drunk.

I guess that was a stupid idea. I wasn't being smart. I wasn't being safe. I took the drink and who the hell knows what was in it? Probably something hardcore to get me that fucked up. 

This is bad. I keep feeling worse and worse about my situation. I want to remember something that will offer me relief, but everything seems to make me worry more.

I took the drink… and obviously drank it because look what happened.

I close my eyes for a minute, trying to replay the parts I remember. I was led back to my room by a guy who was bigger than me. It must've been the guy Nick was talking about. I can't remember his face, but I remember being in my room. I fell to the floor as soon as the guy let go of me. I pretty much face-planted, but was too drunk to feel a thing.

I remember… being naked on my bed at some point after that. My cheek was pressed into my sheets and I couldn't move.

CONTENT WARNINGS: IMPLIED SEXUAL ABUSE, DRUGGING