I need to call Zack, or Taylor. My phone is dead, a useless brick in my pocket. I drop it to the floor, rub my eyes, trying to force myself awake. Instead, I slip into a haze, losing touch with everything. The door opens. A guy helps me up.
I have no control. I feel like a ragdoll slung over his shoulder. He smells of pine and cheap gin. He walks me out of the bathroom, up the stairs of the frat house.
“I need to go home,” I slur, but the words don’t reach him.
We reach the top floor. He pushes open a bedroom door, drops me onto a twin bed in the small, dark room.
I can’t comprehend his intentions. I drift, slipping away again, until cold hands grip my waist.
“What…” I slur, trying to focus. My eyes won’t cooperate.
He slides my pants down, ankles exposed. Then rips my underwear off.
“Hey…” I manage, a weak protest. Fear spikes, a cold current through my veins. I try to wake up, to fight, but I'm sinking. He pushes down, looming over me.
I scream, but he clamps a hand over my mouth.
He tears at my shirt as the door slams open.
“Dude, get the FUCK off her!” The voice is raw, furious.
I breathe, trying to claw my way back to reality.
“Woah, chill baby, this is my girlfriend!” The guy protests, but his voice sounds hollow.
“No the fuck she isn’t. Get out before I kill you.” The girl’s voice is a knife edge. She’s in his face, snarling.
He grabs his stuff and practically flees. I lie there, shaking, pulling a sheet over my body. I don’t even know where my clothes went.
“Are you okay, mamas?” The girl with the green hair asks. I look up, see her.
“No, please help.” I stammer, trying to pull myself out of the fog.
“Okay, stay where you are, I’m getting help.” She turns to leave.
“Wait!” I yell, my voice cracking.
“Don’t. Please stay here.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible.
She walks back, pulls me upright, uses her hoodie sleeves to wipe my face.
“Do you know anyone I could call?” She asks.
“Yes.” I grab her phone, unlock it. I see the handle "@billieeilish", but it's just a name on a screen. I find Zack’s username and Instagram call him, desperate. I don't have his number.
He picks up after two rings.
“Billie fucking Eilish???” He yells, sounding as drunk as he could be.
Billie takes the phone from me. “Your friend is up here, and she needs you.” Billie says, her voice calm and firm.
“What? I’m coming.” He says, confusion lacing his voice. Billie puts the phone away.
“What did you have to drink tonight?” Billie asks, her grip tight on my hands, trying to stop them from shaking.
I start to cry, realizing what just happened. The tears spill over, hot and thick.
“It’s okay, mamas, don’t cry. You’re okay.” She holds me tight, runs her fingers through my hair. I hear the door open, and I jump.
“Carmen? What’s wrong?” Zack rushes over, his face etched with worry.
I try to speak, but I can't. I pull away from Billie, bury my head in my hands.
“I’ve never seen her cry before, I don’t know what to do,” Zack says, panicking.
“Woah, chill baby this is my girlfriend!" Billie says, exasperated.
“He took my clothes off.” I stutter, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of Billie's hoodie.
“What?” Zack asks, his voice tight with anger.
“I told him no, he was going to hurt me.” I cry, shaking.
“I’ll fuck him up.” Zack says, storming out of the room.
“I don’t have pants.” I whimper, my voice barely a breath.
“The sweatshirt should cover your ass.” Billie said, straightening the hoodie.
Zack comes back, his face red with fury.
“Car, do you know where he went?” Zack yells, his voice shaking with rage.
I break down again, collapsing on the floor.
“Zack, can you just come sit with her?” Billie asks, her voice soft but insistent.
Zack approaches me, sits beside me, unsure what to do.
“I’m gonna sort this shit out. Don’t worry.” Billie says, walking out of the room.
“I can help.” Zack says, trying to get up again.
Billie gently pushes him back down. “Stay with her. She needs someone she knows right now.”
Zack stays put, as I continue to sob into my hands, feeling numb and exposed. He pulls out his phone, arranges an Uber.
“I’m sorry.” I whine, trying to stop the tears. “He didn’t do anything, I’m overreacting.” My voice is weak, barely a whisper.
“Carmen, no he did. It’s okay to cry. I should’ve stayed with you. I know how these guys can be.” Zack responds, awkwardly patting my back.
“Can we just go wait for the Uber?” I ask, crushed.
“Yes, let’s go.” Zack says, helping me up.
He guides me out of the house, past the crowds of college kids, past Aaron and Tanner who try to ask about me but get waved away by Zack, then through the front door where the Uber is parked outside. Zack opens the door for me, helps me inside.
The car ride passes in silence as I stare out the window, trying to piece things together. It pulls up to the dorm. Zack helps me out, up the stairs, through the front doors.
As we approach my door, he rubs my shoulder reassuringly. I reach into my back pocket for my phone, my room key. It’s not there.
I pat my front and back pockets, then throw my head back in frustration. I left it at the frat party.
“I am such a fuck up.” I say, trying not to cry again.
“Do you know where it could be?” Zack asks, his voice gentle.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to think anymore right now.” I say, my voice cracking.
Zack sits down, his back against my door, then pats the ground next to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.
“We’re gonna sit right here, and I’m gonna call the help desk. We’ll get you in your bed tonight.” Zack says, his voice calm.
I sigh and sit next to him. He pulls out his phone, dials the 24-hour help desk, asks them to come as soon as they can to open my door.
“They’ll be here in an hour.” Zack sighs, dropping his phone into his lap.
I feel tears roll down my eyes as I think about everything that happened tonight.
“Are you okay, Carmen?” Zack asks quietly.
I haven’t seen this worried side of him before.
“No.” I say under my breath.
He looks at me, but I keep my gaze straight ahead.
“I’m truly so sorry.” Zack says.
“It’s not your fault.” I reply, trying to change the subject.
“I really should’ve kept tabs on you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pressured you to come at all tonight.” He responds, sighing in frustration.
“Zack, stop.” I say, putting my hand on his knee.
He looks at me, but I keep my gaze fixed.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I say.
We sit there in silence, and I slowly drift off to sleep waiting for the help desk to come and unlock my door.