Molested by my neighbor

I was in my room, savoring my favorite cup of cappuccino, when a sudden knock on the door startled me so much that I nearly spilled my drink. “Who is it?” I called out. “It’s me… Emma,” a masculine voice replied from the other side. It was my neighbor—Tom. I was surprised. We had barely spoken since I moved into the hostel. Still cautious, I asked what he wanted. He hesitated, then asked if he could come in. It felt strange, but I agreed—quietly gripping a wooden stick, just in case. I trusted no one. Once inside, he asked for a seat, and I offered him one. Still holding the stick, I repeated my question. He noticed it and chuckled. “Do you really think I’m here to hurt you?” he asked. “Trust no one,” I replied instantly. That only made him laugh harder. When I asked again what he wanted, he said he just thought he should visit his “keep-to-herself neighbor.” I couldn’t help but chuckle—he wasn’t wrong. I mostly kept to myself, avoiding other hostel residents. From that day, we clicked unexpectedly. Tom was lively and easygoing, and conversations with him flowed effortlessly—from school life to random gossip. He was unlike anyone I had ever met, almost like the friend I never knew I needed. Despite being in his final year while I was just a fresher, we grew close quickly. He began visiting my apartment often. We cooked together, made videos, and spent most of our time in my space since I lived alone, unlike him, who had a roommate. Gradually, our lives became intertwined—and at the time, it didn’t bother me. Then one day, Tom invited me to a party. He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, claiming his actual girlfriend wasn’t available and he didn’t want to show up alone while his friends came with theirs. I refused at first, but after much pleading, I gave in. At the party, everything went smoothly—until a soft melody began to play, and couples were invited to dance. I hesitated, confused, but Tom insisted, saying he didn’t want to stand out. Before I could protest, he pulled me onto the dance floor. He placed his hand on my waist as we moved awkwardly to the music. The moment felt uncomfortable—and then he made it worse. He confessed that he liked me. I thought he was joking. After all, he had a girlfriend—and a reputation for being a womanizer. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Before I couldn't fully react, three women suddenly stormed in, dragging me away from him. I was still trying to process what was happening when they claimed to be Tom’s girlfriends. I wasn’t even surprised—I knew what he was capable of. Two of them began attacking me, hitting me as if I had done something unforgivable. I tried to explain that it was all a misunderstanding, that I was just helping him—but they wouldn’t listen. I suffered for something I knew nothing about. Eventually, Tom forced his way through them and pulled me out of the chaos. But the damage was done—I had been badly beaten. It was, without a doubt, the worst beating I had ever experienced. He promised to make it up to me. Later, he took me to my favorite beach resort. But even there, trouble followed. We were seated, enjoying our drinks and the calming view of the ocean, when a beautiful woman walked past. Tom’s eyes immediately followed her—and unfortunately, her husband noticed. Unknown to Tom, the man was a soldier. Within moments, the situation escalated, and we nearly got into serious trouble. It took a lot of pleading and apologies on my part—claiming to be Tom’s fiancée—before we were finally let go. Things like this happened often with Tom. Yet somehow, our friendship endured, mostly because he always found a way to make up for the chaos he caused. What I didn’t realize… was that I might be his next target.