Chapter 10: The Turning Point

In the bar’s private room, Wendy—usually flawless—was now drunk and miserable.

She slumped over the table, surrounded by empty bottles and neon light. Her lipstick was smudged, mascara streaked down her cheeks.

The air stank of stale beer and broken dreams. A few stragglers glanced her way, but nobody stepped in.

A guy tried to approach, but Wendy smashed a glass.

The crash made everyone stare. She glared with such venom that he backed off fast.

"Get lost."

Her voice was hoarse, but full of command. She always knew how to own a room—even now.

But after the guy left, she started feeling hot all over.

She fanned herself, tugging at her collar, eyes darting. Her skin was flushed, sweat beading on her brow.

She realized something was wrong with her drink and tried to leave, but her legs buckled, dropping her onto the sticky vinyl bench. Panic flashed in her eyes.

Sean, who’d been following her, showed up just in time and caught her.

He burst in, pale with worry, scanning for danger.

"Wendy, what’s wrong?"

He reached for her arm, voice shaking. She tried to push him off, but her strength was gone.

"Get lost, don’t touch me."

Her words slurred, but she shot him a look that could kill.

Alex will be upset.

The thought flickered in her mind, a last-ditch grip on reality.

Sean came closer. "You’ve been drugged?"

He crouched, concern etched deep. "I... I can help you."

He fumbled with his jacket, hands shaking.

Sean started undressing, his face full of desperate resolve.

He tugged at his shirt, nerves raw. I watched, frozen, as he fumbled through his own conflicted feelings.

"I told you to get lost. Don’t you get it?"

Wendy’s anger flared, but her body wouldn’t listen. She tried to push him, but her limbs were heavy.

She collapsed on the couch, disgust for Sean at its peak.

She turned her face to the wall, choking back a sob. She’d never felt so helpless, so trapped in a story she didn’t want.

She’d already been abandoned by Alex, and now these people wanted to ruin her, so she’d never be able to stand by Alex’s side again?

The thought tormented her, twisting inside like a knife. Was this what it meant to lose everything?

She wanted to kill these people.

In her mind, she screamed. But only a whimper came out.

Sean, eyes red, tried to undress Wendy. "I’m doing this willingly. You can pretend it never happened."

He tried to reassure her, but his words only made her feel more alone.

Wendy’s body reacted, every cell craving Sean’s touch.

A wave of heat crashed over her, thoughts scattering. She hated it—hated him, hated herself, hated the script pulling her away from what she wanted.

She knew this desire was more than the drug.

Even as her mind fought, her body betrayed her, reaching for comfort she didn’t want.

The comments went wild.

[Girl, stop holding back, just go for the real guy.]

[She’s already soaking wet, so hot.]

[I want to see them go all the way. Real guy, go wild...]

It was all so grotesque, like the world was cheering them on from behind a screen.

The more the comments cheered, the worse I felt.

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing I was the one who cut the brakes.

So I couldn’t help it—I found the bar.

I drove through the rain, knuckles white on the wheel, every red light an eternity. My head throbbed with regret and fear.

I searched room after room, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, my heart pounding. I ignored the stares, focused only on finding her.

Until I heard urgent moans outside a private room.

The sound stopped me. I pressed my palm to the door, breath shallow, stomach twisting.

"Wendy, Wendy..."

Her name echoed, desperate. I shut my eyes, barely holding it together.

My heart felt stabbed a thousand times, tears streaming. The pain was raw, a weight pressing my chest.

I’d imagined this scene a hundred times, but seeing it for real was unbearable.

I kept telling myself: She’s just a girl who can’t control herself. I don’t care.

But the words rang hollow.

Wiping my tears, I turned the doorknob. My hand shook so bad I nearly missed it. My pulse thundered, drowning out everything else.

As long as I saw it with my own eyes, maybe I could really let go.

I pushed open the door, bracing for the worst—and knowing, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same.