CHAPTER 2

Lily’s POV

They say life gets easier with time—that pain fades, that struggles make you stronger. But I don’t know who they are, because for me, it’s been the opposite. The older I get, the harder life becomes. And strength? It’s not something I feel. Not anymore.

I’ve been going through a lot of pain and struggle, not just because my mom is a single mother, but because I was born out of rape. People call me names like daughter of a prostitute, a one-night seed, a mistake. They call my mother a prostitute, but I’ve never believed it. Even though I’ve seen many men with her, she keeps telling me not to believe what people say, that it's not true. She always says that without going into detail about what really happened. I’ve never asked—because I don’t want to open the wounds she’s still trying to heal.

But even if she’s trying to move on, her past keeps hitting me… and leaving scars I never wished for.

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The more I waited, the weaker I became—like a heavy load was dragging me down. My legs felt like they weighed a ton. Emily had slipped an overdose of diazepam into my drink.

"I will not—I will never allow them to touch me!" I snapped, breathing hard, rage building inside me.

“Since you won’t do it willingly,” he said, gripping my hand tighter, “you’ll do it by force. I already made a deal with them.”

I froze. My stomach twisted violently.

Were they trying to rape me?

A cold shiver ran through me, yanking me into the nightmare.

"Yeah," Emily said casually, like she was talking about the weather.

"You were born out of rape. Nothing wrong if you get raped too. Maybe you’ll even give birth.”

"You sure it’s rape?"

"Rumor says she slept with the man and regretted it."

"She’s just a one-night mistake. A bastard. A daughter of a prostitute."

Their words slashed through me.

Their laughter echoed—cruel and sharp.

"Well guys, finish your job. We gotta go now. I guess the enjoyment just started."

"Please, Emily…" I grabbed her hand, whispering through tears, "Please don’t do this."

She crouched beside me, her voice low and mocking.

"You want to be my friend? Friendship costs. And right now, you’re paying the price."

She stood.

"Bye."

I watched helplessly as Emily and her gang disappeared, their footsteps fading into the darkness—while the men closed in. One of them lifted me off the ground. I was screaming, but no one could hear my voice. I tried to fight, but I was already sinking under the weight of the diazepam Emily gave me.

“Put me down! Leave me!” I screamed, beating at them with my weak little hands.

But the more I struggled, the weaker I became.

I didn’t even realize when I started crying. My body was already on the bed. One of the men held down my hand. Another was moving his hand under my gown. I could feel him touching my thigh, gripping the hem of my dress.

I tried again to resist—to gather what strength I had left—and kicked him hard.

But little did I know that wouldn’t free me. It only brought me more pain.

A hot slap tore across my face, splitting my lip. A drop of blood hit my chin.

That’s when I gave up.

Maybe this was the end.

The end of my dreams. My scholarship. My life.

Maybe now, my mom would finally be free from the burden I’ve been.

Maybe… just maybe.

For a moment, I thought it was over.

But then—

The door slammed open.

And a voice followed.

"Stop it."

His voice was cold. Commanding.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are? Why would you barge in like that?" one of the men barked.

"Get out. I won’t repeat myself," the stranger said.

"Hey, guy, I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to tell us what to do. And you should leave now… if you love your life."

They let go of me and moved toward him.

Then I heard the sound of punches, things breaking, the clash of fists and chaos.

Even though I couldn’t see clearly, I knew there was a fight.

Something shattered—a lamp? A vase?

I heard grunts, the thud of a body slamming into the wall, and someone gasping for air.

One of them screamed, “You broke my arm!”

Another moaned, “Please stop! We didn’t know she was yours!”

"Get out now… or do you want more?" the stranger growled.

The two men fled.

For a moment, I thought I was saved.

Until I heard him say, “I want to be the only one to taste her.”

That’s when I knew—I was still in trouble. Maybe even worse trouble than before.

"Hey, you there!" His voice rang out again.

Though my vision was blurred, I could feel the effect of his presence. His voice did something strange to me—calming one second, terrifying the next.

He was tall, broad-backed, and what little I could see told me he was dangerously handsome.

Even in my half-conscious state, I could smell his cologne—sharp, dark, intoxicating.

His eyes… were terrifying. But also beautiful.

He picked me up again.

“Put me down! Put me down!” I screamed, managing to scratch his neck with my nails.

"Hey!" he shouted, glaring at me.

"You better stay calm, or I’ll call three men to join me," he said coldly—and then he smirked.

We were already in another room. He threw me on the bed like a predator about to feast.

And for a moment… I thought the two other men might have been better than him.

Was he a gangster?

He unbuttoned his shirt and climbed on the bed.

“Please… please… please don’t…” I begged, voice breaking.

(She passed out.)