Crushed - Pamela Ann Page 0,34

any rights, as if I didn’t have any say because I had basically placed myself in Rob’s hands in every sense of the word.

Disgusted at the very sight of the room and the man in it, I scurried away, leaving the house like I had just witnessed someone commit a murder. Of course, the only offense there was what I had let happen. It was my fault—I had placed myself in a vulnerable situation where any man could violate me. If it hadn’t been Rob, it might have been someone else.

In no time at all, things had gone from bad to worse. Had I fought it, voiced it out with anger, maybe I wouldn’t be in this position. Regardless, I was, and I had to suffer what came as a result of my reckless behavior.

The blame weighed heavily on me. It was my fault. I had sought it, hadn’t I? Little did I know that seeking it meant I was welcoming another tragedy in my life.

Chapter Fifteen

When I got back to Carter’s house, I was fully aware that it was past noon and that Carter had already left for South America. I could have gone straight home, but being alone at this critical time left me feeling frightened. Maybe it was the aftermath of what had happened, but in the back of my mind, I didn’t want Rob seeking me out at night, and I would be there with no one to run to for protection if need be.

I was lucky enough that no one was in my way as I headed to Carter’s room, maddeningly sprinting towards the bathroom before I turned the shower on because I needed a good cleansing. After last night events … I shivered at the thought of what I had let happen.

Dirty, disgusting whore—that was what I was.

Tears rolled heavily down my face as I recalled it over and over again.

“Why?” I cried out, choking.

No one would respect me once they found out what I had done. No man, not even my best friends, would see me in the same light. What man would want a woman who was keen on drugs? On top of that, she also let her body be keen on a man having his way with her while under the influence?

All the blaming, all the self-hate wouldn’t be enough to punish me. On some level, I knew I needed to find out the truth from Rob. He and I both knew I had told him not to do it, yet he had kept on. Then again, since Molly was known as the rape drug, was I even surprised that had happened? I didn’t want to portray it as rape, however. I mean, at some level, I felt good when he touched me, though my mind was telling me to stop it. It was all too confusing, and rehashing it persistently was driving me crazy.

I had to talk to Rob, or I wouldn’t have any closure. If he and I were decent friends, he would fess up and admit he had done me wrong, that he had taken advantage of the situation. Then he needed to apologize and promise to never let it happen to me or to any other woman ever again.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed in black sweats on a hot summer day, a total contrast to the sexy cutout outfits I had been sporting since I got back. There was this profound need to cover up, as if I felt safer with more clothes. It was pointless after what had happened already, but I had to wear some sort of armor to see him. I didn’t want to go in there again and let the horrid episode have a second run. No, I wouldn’t let that happen again.

If anything, I came out of the horrific incident not wanting to be under any influence of drugs. My recreational days were done and over with. This taught me a lesson—never trust that every single person you surrounded yourself with had the best intentions for you. They would find a way to take advantage when you were at your weakest. And that was what I had been—so weak and high out of my fucking mind that I couldn’t control what was going to happen next. I had given all my desires up the moment I decided to take a drug that was known for such events while surrounded by people I barely knew.

Upon entering Rob’s rented house, I found people