PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 5 Fought Back

The sound of the shower drowned everything… my breathing, my thoughts, the quiet breaking apart of whatever control I had left.

I stayed there longer than I should have, forehead pressed against the cold tile, letting the water run over me like it could erase what just happened. It didn’t. Nothing did.

I didn’t even hear the door open. It was the shift in the air that made me look up.

And then I saw him.

Wallace stood just inside the shower room, like he had every right to be there. Dry. Clean. Untouched.

In his hand was a paper bag, plain, but expensive-looking, the kind from a boutique I would never even walk into.

For a second, my mind couldn’t connect the image in front of me with reality. Then it did.

Of course, it was him. Of course.

My chest tightened, something sharp and violent rising in me so fast it almost made me dizzy.

I didn’t move at first. I just stared at him, water still running down my face, my hair clinging to my skin.

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out hoarse.

His gaze moved over me… not in the way the others did, not crude or careless, but it was worse. It was controlled. Observing. Measuring.

“I figured you’d need this,” he said, lifting the paper bag slightly.

For a moment, I just looked at it. Inside were dry ang clean clothes. Something I desperately needed.

And he knew it.

Of course, he did.

“Take it,” he added, like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t the reason I was standing there in the first place.

I let out a short, humorless breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

His expression didn’t change. “It’s a simple solution.”

“Solution?” I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping me. “You think this is a solution?”

“You’re going to miss your class,” he said calmly. “Your things are ruined. You don’t have anything to change into.”

Every word was accurate. Every word felt like a blade.

“I’m helping you,” he finished.

Something in me snapped.

“Helping?” I stepped forward, the cold tiles biting into my feet as I moved closer, not caring about the water still dripping from me, not caring about anything except the anger clawing its way out of my chest. “You call this helping?”

He didn’t flinch.

“Say please,” he said. Just like that. Like it was nothing. Like everything that led up to this moment, it didn’t exist. Like I was supposed to forget.

For a second, the world went very, very quiet. Then, my hand moved before I could stop it.

The sound echoed sharply in the tiled room. A clean, solid slap.

His head turned slightly from the impact, the paper bag slipping just a little in his grip. For the first time since I met him, Wallace Rachford looked… stunned.

I was breathing hard now, my chest rising and falling unevenly, my hand still trembling from the force of it.

“You think this is a game?” I snarled, my voice shaking… but not weak. Never weak. “You think you can break me, humiliate me, ruin everything I’ve worked for, and then stand there and offer me help like I’m supposed to be grateful?”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t even move. And that only made it worse.

“Say please?” I repeated, my voice rising, the anger spilling out faster now, years of it, not just today. “Who do you think you are?”

The words came faster and sharper.

“You set this up, didn’t you? Or at least you knew it would happen. And now you’re here… what? Playing savior?” I laughed, but there was nothing amusing about it. “That’s sick.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“Do you even hear yourself?” I continued. “You make people miserable just because you can, and then you expect them to bow to you for the smallest bit of decency?”

I stepped closer, not stopping this time, not holding anything back.

“I would rather walk out of here in soaked clothes,” I expressed, my voice low and fierce, “miss every class, fail every subject… than take anything from you.”

That landed. I saw it.

Because something in his expression shifted… not anger, not yet. Something deeper. Something unfamiliar.

“You don’t get to do this to me and then act like you’re the solution,” I added, my voice breaking just slightly at the edges, but I didn’t care. “You are the problem.”

Silence filled the space between us, heavy, uncomfortable and real.

For once, Wallace didn’t have a response ready.

He just stood there, the paper bag still in his hand, looking at me like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected.

Something he didn’t know how to handle.

I wiped my face roughly, not caring if it was tears or water anymore.

“Get out,” I said.

He didn’t move.

“Get. Out!”

This time, there was no hesitation in my voice. Just anger and truth.

For a second, I thought he wouldn’t listen. But then, slowly, he placed the paper bag down on the bench.

And stepped back. Still silent. Still watching.

Then he turned… and walked out.

The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

And just like that, I was alone again. But everything feels different now. Because, for the first time, I hadn’t just endured. I had fought back.

I didn’t touch the bag he left behind. I couldn’t.

Even looking at it made something twist in my chest… anger, pride, something stubborn that refused to take anything tied to him.

So, I stayed where I was for a few more minutes, breathing, steadying myself until the shaking in my hands eased just enough for me to move.

Then I got dressed.

My clothes were still damp, still faintly stained despite everything I’d tried to wash off. The smell had faded, but not completely. It clung to me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I couldn’t go back to class like this. So, I went somewhere else.

The university clinic wasn’t far, but the walk felt longer than usual.

Maybe because I was more aware now… of how I looked, how I smelled, how people glanced at me and then quickly looked away. Some out of discomfort. Some out of curiosity.

I kept walking.

When I pushed the clinic door open, the shift was immediate. Cool air. Clean scent. Quiet.

A nurse behind the desk looked up, and her expression changed instantly.

“Miss… are you alright?”

I didn’t realize how bad I looked until I saw her reaction.

“I…” My voice came out uneven. “I need help.”

She was already standing.

“Come here,” she said gently, guiding me toward a chair. “You’re freezing.”

I hadn’t even noticed.

Now that she said it, my body felt cold in a way that went deeper than just wet clothes. My hands were trembling again.

“What happened?” she asked, already reaching for a clean towel.

“Something… was poured on me,” I said. “I don’t know what it was.”

Her brows pulled together. “Alright. Okay. We’ll take care of that first.”

There was no judgment in her voice. No hesitation. Just action.

“Can you stand?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Good. We have a shower room here. It’s not big, but it’s clean. You need to wash that off properly.”

I followed her without question.

The clinic’s shower room was small, but it felt like safety.

She handed me fresh towels, a bottle of shampoo, and liquid soap.

“Take your time,” she said. “There’s no rush.”

I nodded, my throat tightening slightly.

“Thank you,” I managed.

She gave a small, reassuring smile. “You’re okay here.”

The door closed behind me. And this time, I let myself breathe.

The water ran longer than I expected. I washed my hair once. Then again. Then a third time.

Each time, watching the water run down in faint streaks of color that slowly faded until it was clear. The smell lingered at first, stubborn, almost embedded into my skin, but I kept scrubbing, slower now, more careful, until finally…

It was gone. Completely gone.

I stood there for a moment longer, letting the water run over me, not because I needed to clean anymore, but because I needed the stillness.

It had been almost an hour. But for the first time since it happened, I didn’t feel like I was carrying it anymore.

When I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the nurse was waiting.

“I brought you something to change into,” she said, holding out a neatly folded set of clothes. “They’re from the clinic supply, mostly for emergencies. They should fit.”

I took them carefully. A plain shirt. Soft fabric. Clean. And fresh undergarments.

My chest tightened again… but this time, not from anger.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You’re welcome.”

I changed quickly.

The clothes were simple, slightly oversized… but they were dry, warm and safe. That was enough.

When I came out, she handed me a cup.

“Coffee or tea?” she asked.

“Coffee, please,” I said automatically… then paused.

I shook my head slightly. “Actually… I think I just need to sit for a bit.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

I sat on one of the clinic beds, the thin blanket pulled lightly over my lap. My body felt heavier now… not from exhaustion, but from everything settling all at once.

“What happened, exactly?” she asked gently.

So, I told her. Not everything. But enough.

The spill. The laughter. The timing. The pattern.

She listened without interrupting, her expression growing more serious with every word.

“That’s not a simple accident,” she said when I finished.

“I know.”

A brief silence followed.

“You can file a formal complaint,” she added. “The university takes incidents like this seriously, especially if it involves harassment.”

“I’m going to,” I said.

My voice was steady now. Clear.

“Good,” she replied. “You’ll need to go to the Office of Student Affairs. They’ll ask for a written statement. Be as detailed as possible… time, location, any witnesses.”

“I will.”

“And if there’s CCTV coverage in that area,” she continued, “they can request a review. But it must go through proper channels. You can’t access it directly.”

“I understand.”

This wasn’t the orphanage. This wasn’t survival through instinct. This was a system. And systems had rules. I could work with that.

I stayed for a few more minutes. Just enough to feel steady on my feet again.

Then I stood.

“Thank you so much,” I uttered again. “I will never forget your kindness.”

The nurse gave me a small nod. “Take care of yourself. And don’t let this go.”

“I won’t.”