Mag-log inPASTShefali’s POVIt had been a week. A week of silence, of routine, of academic pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. I was loaded with coursework again, assignments piling up like bricks in a wall I didn’t want to climb. I had stopped using my phone altogether except for chatting with Damon while he was at work or while he was in his study — it wasn't because I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but because there was no one left to speak to other than Damon or Naina. Well, Naina and I had made it a routine to have a Zoom call every day for 2 hours in the evening.My parents had stopped contacting me. The only exception was my dad’s occasional Zoom call, where he’d speak in clipped sentences while my mother hovered in the background, her lips pressed into a line, her eyes refusing to meet the camera. She didn’t say a word. Not once. Her silence was louder than any scolding.They were angry. Disappointed. Hurt. Not because I had skipped my vacation in Mumbai — I had lied and
PAST Shefali’s POVAs I woke up, it was already past noon. The light filtering through the curtains was soft and golden, casting a warm glow across the room. My body felt lighter, more rested than it had in days.The pain in my limbs had dulled to a manageable ache, and the fog in my head had finally begun to lift. But the moment I reached across the bed and found the space beside me empty, a sudden chill crept through my chest. Damon was nowhere to be seen.I sat up slowly, and that’s when I noticed it — the oversized T-shirt I was wearing, unmistakably his. It hung loose on my frame, smelling faintly of his cologne and something uniquely him.At the bedside table, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice waited for me, along with a thermos, a plate of peeled oranges, blueberries, kiwi, dragon fruit, and a small bowl of mashed avocado.The sight made me smile — it was so Damon, so thoughtful, so quietly attentive. But even with all that, my heart ached for him.I needed to see him.
I wondered if I should go looking for him. But my body was exhausted. Every muscle ached. My ankle throbbed. My lips were still swollen. My nose still tender. I didn’t have the strength to move.The bedlamp was still on, casting a soft amber glow across the room. Eva had fallen asleep beside me, her head resting gently on my shoulder. I wanted to push her away — not out of anger, but because I needed space. I needed Damon. I needed his arms around me, his voice in my ear, his scent in my lungs.But she looked peaceful.And I didn’t have the heart to disturb her.Her presence, though uninvited, was warm in its own way — a reminder that someone cared, even if it wasn’t the person I was aching for.I sat there, unmoving, staring at the soft glow of the lamp, my thoughts tangled in the scent of blood, the echo of Damon’s fists, and the unbearable silence that followed.The silence was the worst part.It was louder than screams.He hadn’t come.And I didn’t know if he ever would.I was jus
PASTShefali’s POVI went upstairs, and Alex handed me a glass of water, his hands gentle but his eyes still shadowed with concern. I took it without a word, my fingers trembling slightly as I brought it to my lips.The water tasted like nothing — cold, flat, distant — but I drank it anyway, because my throat was dry and my body felt like it was slowly collapsing in on itself. It was as if all the adrenaline that had surged through me earlier, all the raw, desperate energy that had pushed me to run down into that dungeon, to see Damon, to scream his name and pull him back from the edge of something monstrous — all of it had drained out of me the moment I stepped away from him.Now, I was just a shell, hollowed out and floating in a haze.But it wasn’t the blood. It wasn’t the broken body on the floor. It wasn’t even Damon’s fists, slick with crimson, or the way his eyes had gone blank with fury. That wasn’t what haunted me. That wasn’t what left me in this trance-like state.It was th
Then came the day of Damon’s match.He won, of course. It wasn’t even a challenge — a clean, easy victory.He left the ring to change, and I waited near the exit, trying to stay out of the crowd.That’s when it happened.A man — tall, broad, with a sickening grin — stepped in front of me, blocking my path.He leaned in close, his breath reeking of alcohol and something sour.“I’ve seen your videos,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust.“How much for a night with me and my friends?”My blood ran cold.I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.I looked around for Damon, for anyone — but he was nowhere in sight.I tried to step back, but the man grabbed my jacket, yanking me toward him.“Don’t play hard to get, are you worried that I can't afford you or that I won't pay you?” he sneered.“Fifty grand each. You’re not worth that much, but for a high-class whore like you? I’ll make an exception. Just tell me how those billionaires fucked this teen pussy.”His words were filth — thick
I didn’t sleep that night.Not even for a moment.The video had embedded itself into my mind like a parasite, replaying in endless loops, each frame more disturbing than the last. I kept watching it over and over again, pausing at every second, zooming in on the edges, searching desperately for a glitch, a seam, a flicker — anything that would prove it was fake.Anything that would tell me it wasn’t me.But the robe the girl wore was mine — the same satin one Dami loved, the one I had worn just the moments ago.The room was unmistakably ours — the same lighting, the same headboard, the same throw blanket folded at the edge of the bed.And the voice… it sounded like mine. The breathy gasps, the soft moans, the whispered words — they were mine. Or at least, they could have been.The man in the video was faceless, always turned away or hidden in shadows. I didn’t recognize him. I had never touched him. Never kissed him. Never let him into my body or my life.And yet, the video told a diff







