Chapter 3

The fragile quiet of the clinic room, if it could even be called peace, shattered days later.

Mia was staring out the window at a gray Vermont sky when the door opened.

Not Julian. Not a nurse.

Marcus Thorne. Kevin Lee. David Rossi.

Julian's "friends."

Her breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

A cold sweat broke out on her skin.

The room tilted.

Not them. Please, not them.

Marcus smirked, his eyes cold and knowing. "Well, well, look who's here."

The sound of his voice, the sight of their faces, catapulted her back.

Years. It had been years. But the terror was fresh, immediate.

High school.

Julian Vance, back then, had been a shadow.

Always on the fringes, quiet, intense. He rarely smiled.

He was from a different world, the world of old money and sprawling estates, so different from her working-class Philadelphia neighborhood.

She'd been kind to him in art class. He was talented, but hesitant, unsure.

She'd offered a quiet word of encouragement about his charcoal sketches. Praised his use of light and shadow.

Slowly, he'd started to emerge from his shell, at least with her.

A rare, small smile would touch his lips when she spoke to him.

He'd started waiting for her after class, walking her to her bus stop.

They talked about art, about books, about dreams.

He had a vulnerability then, a hidden softness she'd found endearing. She felt like she was seeing the real Julian, the one hidden beneath the Vance name and fortune.

One afternoon, under the big oak tree by the football field, he'd looked at her, his blue eyes serious.

"Mia," he'd said, his voice a little rough. "I... I really like talking to you."

Her heart had done a little flip.

"I like talking to you too, Julian."

"There's this party," he'd said, a flush rising on his neck. "Off-campus. Friday. My friends are going... Marcus, Kevin, Dave. Would you... want to go? With me?"

Hope had bloomed, bright and warm. A real date. With Julian Vance.

"I'd love to," she'd said, smiling.

They'd made plans. He'd pick her up. Seven o'clock.

Friday night.

She'd waited. And waited.

Seven o'clock came and went. Seven-thirty. Eight.

He never showed. He never called.

She'd felt a pang of disappointment, then a growing unease.

She'd decided to walk towards the party's general direction, a big house a few blocks from the school, thinking maybe his car broke down, maybe she'd see him.

She took a shortcut through the wooded edge of the school grounds.

That's when they found her.

Marcus, Kevin, Dave.

Not Julian.

They'd stepped out from behind the trees, blocking her path.

Their faces were flushed, eyes bright and cruel. They smelled of beer.

"Lost, Mia?" Marcus had sneered.

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her.

She tried to turn, to run, but they were too quick.

They dragged her deeper into the trees.

The world became a nightmare of pain, humiliation, and terror. Their hands, their laughter, her own choked sobs.

During the assault, through a blur of tears and pain, she saw him.

Julian.

Standing at the edge of the trees, near the road. Silhouetted by a streetlight.

He was just... watching.

Or so she thought. It was dark, she was disoriented.

"Julian!" she'd screamed, a desperate, broken sound. "Help me! Please!"

He'd turned. And walked away. Climbed into a car with them – Marcus, Kevin, Dave – she saw them all pile in as it drove off, leaving her there, shattered and alone.

He'd abandoned her. Left her to them. That was the only explanation. He was one of them.

Back in the present, in the clinic room, Julian walked in behind his friends.

He nodded at them. Casually.

"Hey guys. Thanks for coming."

Mia's blood ran cold. He knew them. He was friendly with them.

The men who had destroyed a part of her soul.

Her belief that Julian was just misguided, somehow a victim of a misunderstanding himself, crumbled into dust.

He was one of them. He had always been one of them.

The casualness of his greeting, their easy camaraderie, was a fresh wave of torment.

It confirmed her deepest, most terrifying fear: he had known. He had always known.

Kevin Lee grinned at her, a sickening, predatory expression.

"Still screaming for Julian, Mia?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking.

Marcus chuckled. "Yeah, 'Julian, help me!' Pathetic."

Her breath caught in her throat. They remembered. They were boasting about it.

In front of Julian.

And Julian... Julian did nothing. Said nothing.

Her spirit, already so battered, fractured further. This was a new level of hell.