I went to confront Mrs. Calloway in person, phone in hand with the recorder running. I expected denial, deflection, some performance of outrage. Instead, she told me without flinching, "That's right. That's how the club works."
I gripped my phone tighter, cold sweat prickling down my back. "I'll sue you," I said. "This is a violation of my privacy."
She pressed her fingers to her lips to hide a smile, as though I'd said something genuinely funny. "You committed a******y first, and now you want to play the victim? Let me be honest with you, it won't get you anywhere. From the moment you first walked through those doors, everything that happened was of your own free will. No one ever forced you into a single thing."
She was right, and we both knew it. I had no answer.
Seeing me fall sile
