The night air hit me like a slap—sharp, unforgiving. The kind of cold that crawls under your skin and gnaws at bone. I should’ve liked it. I usually do. The chill keeps me grounded. Keeps my head clear.
Not tonight.
Tonight, it just left me hollow.
The door of Midnight Bar slammed shut behind me, cutting off the low music and drunken laughter. My heels clicked against the pavement as I walked to the car, each step heavier, like that conversation had weight—like it was dragging me down.
This f*****g guy.
Every word out of his mouth had been a game—smooth, careful, calculated. But beneath the charm, something didn’t add up. His eyes, maybe. The way they flickered, like he wasn’t entirely there.
He said he didn’t remember.
Didn’t remember drugging me. Tying me up. Touching me.
How do
