The anonymous message

I left my apartment door and hailed a taxi to the hotel. I didn't even have anything to pose at this point.

Perhaps I'll meet the anonymous person who saved me from marrying my worst enemy.

“ What more do I have to lose?” I asked myself as I stepped into the tall building.

I collected the room key from the receptionist and headed into the elevator.

The elevator door opened, but I barely noticed. My feet moved on their own as I stepped inside the elevator. I pressed the button for the second floor, then leaned back against the wall, staring at nothing.

Everything felt quiet and loud at the same time. My chest ached like someone had punched me from the inside. My reflection in the mirrored elevator walls was almost unrecognizable, red, puffy eyes, makeup streaked across my cheeks, lips trembling even though I wasn’t crying anymore. I just couldn't. I already changed into an oversized hoodie

I looked like someone who had just lost everything. And I had.

When the elevator reached my floor, I stepped out slowly and made my way down the hallway. Room 17, like the text specified . I slid the key card in and stepped inside the dimly lit hotel room. The door clicked shut behind me.

I didn't know what to expect. Maybe somebody sitting in the shadows expecting my return or a saviour coming to save me from this pain. For some reason, I thought coming to this room would give me the answer to my questions but even after I looked everywhere in the room, there was nobody there. That meant no answers.

Was it a prank? Was everything a prank?. The back and forth was just too much for me to bear. I quickly opened a bottle of wine neatly placed on the table and downed it in a go.

That was when I broke. I dropped by the bed and sank to the floor, the rug, soft under my knees as I folded into myself. My whole body shook but I didn't even care that I was sobbing like a child. It poured out of me. Everything. The pain, the betrayal, the shame, the rage. All of it.

The image of Tristan and Taylor together… in our bed having sex kept flashing in my head, and every time it did, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I trusted him. I trusted her. I gave them all I had left.

Eventually, I pulled myself off the floor and reached for another bottle. I opened it and drank straight from the top. It burned going down, but at least it made me feel something different. I took another swig. And then another. The numbness was starting to settle in, which honestly felt like a relief.

I set the bottle down on the table and slowly let my hoodie fall to the floor. Then off came my bra. Then my panties. I didn’t even think about it. I just wanted to be in the tub. I didn't even care anymore about the anonymous texter or whether they meant well or bad. I just wanted to be alone and far away from the whole world right now and this room gave me that comfort.

I walked into the bathroom, completely bare, not even bothering to warm up the water and I stepped into the shower and let the cold water hit me like ice.I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, crying again. Softer this time. The kind of crying that comes when you’re too tired to scream. I was just too mentally drained to be loud.

I rested my forehead against the cold tile, and that’s when the memories came rushing back, memories I didn’t ask for. Memories of that faithful day at the orphanage.

The dark, creaky bunk beds. The peeling paint. The smell of old food and sweaty kids.

The kids were cruel. They laughed at my hand-me-down clothes. They pushed me around. Called me names. Stole my things.

But the caretakers were worse. Mrs. Horton was cold and mean, always yelling. She used to twist kids’ ears and make them stand outside in the rain if they "talked too much" or were being ‘naughty’.

No one helped me. No one stood up for me. I learned to stay quiet. To hide and survive alone

The one memory I had suppressed for years came back in a thousand folds, taunting me.

It was a usual day at the orphanage and we were ordered to clean up the dorms. I was only thirteen years old then.

We had all been ordered to clean the dorms. Typical punishment for something none of us probably did. That’s when Laila, the meanest girl in the dorm took my shoes and hid them.

It wasn’t the first time she’d bullied me. But I was tired. I had no other pair, and I’d already been walking around almost barefoot for three days. So, I did something I had never done before.I reported her even though I knew it would make little to no difference. I only wanted my shoes back.

I went straight to the headmistress. My voice was quiet and trembling. I didn’t even ask for Laila to be punished. I just wanted my shoes back.

The headmistress looked at me like I was wasting her time. Then she nodded once and said, “Wait here.” Then she called for one of the male teachers. Mr. Darren.

He was always too kind. Always watching and smiling in ways that made any child's stomach twist. Something inside of me was always weary about Mr Warren.

“This one needs discipline,” she told him flatly before walking away. “Take her to the basement.”

That’s when the panic set in. I remember my feet dragging. My voice caught in my throat. I wanted to say no, to run but there was no place to run to. No one to tell. Every child in the orphanage knew what evil happened in the basement but no one dared to speak about it.

The basement was cold and damp. The kind of place the kids avoided because we all knew nothing good came out of this place.

He closed the door behind us and locked it. I still remember the click.

What happened after that… I don’t talk about it. I don’t even let myself think about it. But my body remembers. The shaking. The silence. The violations. The way my breath left me like I was disappearing and the trauma after that? Heaven knows I might never recover.

And the worst part? When it was over, he patted my head and said, “That’ll teach you not to lie.” I never asked for help again after that.

Not once.Not until I met Tristan. He made me feel seen. Safe. He said I wasn’t broken. That I was special and I believed him.

And now, here I am. Alone again. Just like always.

My body suddenly became hot like I needed something I couldn't quite fathom. I shrugged the strange feeling off and continued with my bath. Perhaps I'll feel better after my bath. The water had turned lukewarm at this point

Eventually, I finished with my bath, wrapped myself in one of the hotel robes, and walked slowly to the room. My head was heavy, my body tired and for some strange reason, it felt like my body was on fire and I needed to quench that fire instantly.