Page 4 of Dagger

I grab the phone, sitting back down on the bed with the blanket still wrapped around me. My fingers tremble as I stare at the keypad. Who do I even call?

The first thought is my mom, but I immediately push it away. She’d flip out—not just because of where I am, but because I went out at all. Her anger wouldn’t help right now.

Sabrina. She’d know what to do. She brought me to the party. But then it hits me—I don’t know her number. Or anyone’s number. They’re all saved in my phone, the one that’s missing.

I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. You’d think I’d have my mom’s number memorized, but I don’t. She changes phones all the time, usually because she doesn’t pay the bill and the service gets cut off. I gave up trying to keep track.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath.

I glance at the phone again, my fingers hovering over the keypad. The thought of calling 911 crosses my mind, but what would I even say? “Hi, I woke up in a hotel room after blacking out at a party”? I’m not hurt—or at least, I don’t think I am—and I’m not sure this justifies calling the police. Besides, the idea of cops showing up and making everything worse makes my chest tighten.

I take a deep breath, my heart racing. There has to be another way.

I stumble into the bathroom, gripping the blanket tightly around me as I close the door behind me. My hands are shaking, my breath shallow. I need a second—just a second to breathe, to figure out what’s happening.

When I look up at the mirror, I freeze.

I barely recognize myself. My hair is a tangled mess, sticking out in every direction. My makeup is smeared—mascara streaked down my cheeks, lipstick smudged across my mouth like a bad joke. My face is pale, my eyes bloodshot, but that’s not the worst of it.

My neck.

Red marks dot my skin, standing out like bruises. Hickeys.

My stomach churns, and my knees threaten to give out. My mind races, trying to make sense of it.Hickeys?I’ve never even done anything close to this before. I’m... I’m a virgin.

My heart starts pounding again, harder now, a dull roar filling my ears. I try to breathe, try to stay calm, but then I think about it—about how Ifeeldown there.

There’s a discomfort, a rawness, and the realization slams into me like a truck.

I lunge for the sink, gagging. My stomach clenches, and bile rises in my throat. I throw up, gripping the edges of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

“Oh my God,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice shaking. Tears blur my vision as I spit and rinse my mouth with water. My body feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.

I lean over the sink, gasping for air. Panic claws at my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. I can’t think straight, can’t stop the flood of emotions rushing through me.

I stare at my reflection, trying to hold it together, but the girl looking back at me doesn’t feel like me anymore. What the hell happened last night?

Suddenly, a loud banging on the bathroom door jolts me out of my panicked thoughts. I freeze, my grip tightening on the sink as my heart leaps into my throat.

Before I can even think about responding, the door swings open with a force that makes it hit the wall, and Jake stumbles in, completely naked.

“What the hell—?” I start to say, but the words catch in my throat.

He doesn’t even look at me. “Get out of the way, bitch,” he grumbles, his voice groggy and slurred, like he’s barely awake.

I’m too stunned to move as he shuffles past me, heading straight for the toilet. Without a second thought—or a shred of decency—he lifts the lid and starts peeing, swaying slightly as he does.

My stomach turns, disgust and anger bubbling up inside me. “Are you serious right now?” I snap, my voice sharper than I expect.

Jake doesn’t answer. He just keeps doing his business, like barging in on someone isn’t a big deal.

I stand there, clutching the blanket tighter around me, a mix of humiliation and rage boiling under my skin. My mind is racing, but one thought pushes its way to the front: I need to get out of here. Now.

As soon as he’s done, I plan to grab my things—or whatever I can find—and get as far away from him as possible. Whatever happened last night, I want no part of it anymore.

I walk out of the bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest, and sit on the edge of the bed. The blanket is still wrapped tightly around me, like armor against everything I’m feeling. I can hear Jake moving around in the bathroom—water running briefly, then silence.

When he finally walks out, still naked and completely unbothered, I clear my throat. My voice comes out more confident than I feel. “Where are my things?”

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