My panicked brain didn't act fast enough to dodge him.

I also didn't react in time to figure out what he was doing.

All I felt was his body tumble into me and then his hand on my thigh. I let out an animalist noise of frustration and tried to shove him off of me. I still had my footing. I rushed backward, away from him, teetering on the soles of my feet. His weight lifted off me. 

My back was to the wall, and he stood in front of me holding my phone in hand.

"David, give it back," I said, my voice cracking. My eyes widened as he held it up in the air. It turned on from the movement, showing a picture of Cassidy and I at our beach trip the year prior. She wore the large straw hat that I'd made fun of her for at the time.

He smirked.

Then, he threw the phone to the floor.

 I leapt forward, trying to catch it in time, but no. It was far too late. Far, far too late.

The phone shattered on the tile. Just to rub it in, David stomped on the phone. I screamed. And screamed. But he didn't stop. He just kept stomping like the world depended on it.

No.

"You ass!" I shouted, lungs burning from the strain.

I punched him in the face.

Right in the nose. Fist cracking against bone. Pain radiated up my knuckles, but I barely felt it through my anger. Blood gushed from David's nose as he groaned and clutched his face.

Hot flashes, then cold flashes, flowed through my body. I heard footsteps from the Title IX office behind me.

"Security! Security, please! Someone call 9-1-1," a woman behind us started shouting. Tall, high heels, wearing a navy blue blazer. She glared at me as though I were a demon. With David's blood on my fist and him keeled over at my feet, I nearly felt like one.

I stood there in the middle of the hallway outside the Title IX office, David curled up in a ball as the other woman stared at me. "Please, you have to understand...," I pleaded with her.

But her sharp blue eyes, and crossed arms refused to converse with me. "Stay right where you are. Security is coming."

I could run.

I knew I could.

But then what? She worked in Title IX. I would never be able to come back here. I would be screwed.

Why had I done this to myself?

It only took a couple minutes for security to get there. When they arrived, David had dragged himself over to the wall and leaned up against it. I stood in the middle of the hallway with my arms crossed. The tall woman ran up to the yellow-coated security guards and began hurriedly explaining everything.

David had already stopped bleeding from his nose. Dark stains covered his shirt and his fists had splotches of blood on them from where he'd been wiping his face. My heart sunk.

How could I have done this?

Throwing alcohol at him was one thing. It was a nuisance at best. But actually punching him in the face? Actually hurting him?

The dark voice in the back of my mind uttered that he deserved it.

The rest of the day was a blur. I wasn't taken away in handcuffs like they do in the movies. I didn't even go to the police station. The yellow-coated officer was merely campus security and not an actual member of the police force. He had me follow him to the security office, which was conveninently next door. He asked a bunch of questions about what had happened and typed furiously into a computer the whole time.

By the time he finally told me I was allowed to go back to my apartment, I felt absolutely nauseous and wanted to cry.

The tears started to seep out as I got in the elevator and slammed the button for my floor.

I didn't even know where Cassidy was or if she was okay. I didn't know anything. I didn't know what time it was. I had been completely cut off from the world because David had absolutely destroyed my phone. The remnants of it were in my backpack pocket, a bunch of crunched glass and metal. Not something that could be repaired. I didn't need to be an engineer to know that.

All I had wanted to do was report him. That was it. And he had interferred. He had taken my phone and all of its evidence and stomped it into nothing. Why hadn't nobody stopped him? How was this allowed? How could he just wait outside the office to try intimidating me and Andrea into submission?!

I'd tried to report it the proper way. I had needed more evidence but as soon as I'd gotten it, I'd lost it. Sure, I still had Andrea's stuff, but everything that I had on my phone. All the text messages from the men David had gotten to harass me. All of my back and forth with David over the phone. All of it was gone.

I hadn't backed it up. I hadn't even thought about it. I hadn't imagined that something like this could have happened in a million years.

Cassidy wasn't home when I entered, and I immediately ran to the bathroom and began to retch. My hands were still stained. A bit of it had gotten on my yellow shirt. I would need hydrogen peroxide, stain remover, something...

Focus on what I could control.

I flung my shirt off and into the hamper. Then, I grabbed the coziest top I could find; a sweater made entirely of cotton, and a pair of fuzzy socks. I put the kettle on, and tried to clear my head. Think. Think, think, think. First step, go to campus IT and see if the phone is fixable. Then, I'd buy a new phone if not. Then, I'd contact Andrea. Or my mom. Or both. And Cassidy. And Phoebe. Maybe Phoebe could help. And I'd contact Title IX again and explain everything. And I'd try to find that woman, and...

My thoughts spiraled and all of a sudden, it was all too much. I just wanted to sit on my bed and cry and panic for hours and hours and hours. The kettle started singing it's angry tune. I let it go for a minute too long before finally yanking it off the burner.

I didn't have my lavendar tea.

With my last bit of energy, I shut off the stove so the place wouldn't burn down. Then, I fell to the floor and stared at the ceiling.

I couldn't do anything. I'd fucked everything up this time.

It was hopeless.

_____________________________________

Lights sprung to life above me and I winced in the darkness. Where was I?

My shoulder hurt from its awkward position against the hard tiled floor of mine and Cassidy's kitchen.

"Dude, what?" Cassidy murmured from somewhere above me.

I groaned and rolled over, struggling to wake up. The overhead flourescent lights glared down at me. The pot of boiling water that I'd started now sat, cold, on the stove.

"Ugh," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"What is going on?" Concern laced Cassidy's tone. Her eyes were wide, blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. She wore running shoes, spandex, and a loose t-shirt. "Why are you on the ground?"

I sat up and used the wall to help push myself to my feet. "Sorry."

"Sorry? Keira, you look horrid. And what is on your hands?!"

I'd forgotten. David's blood had crusted along the creases of my knuckles. I scraped it off and it ended up transferring just underneath my nails.

"I don't know," I replied.

"You don't know? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No."

"Okay, do you need me to call someone?" Cassidy asked. She was still frozen in the doorway, holding a paper bag filled with fruits and vegetables.

I shook my head again.

"Okay, okay." Cassidy placed the grocery bag gently on the kitchen counter and reached a hand out to help me stabilize. I hadn't even noticed myself lightly drifting back and forth. My head pounded and my nose was crusty from snot. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

My dirty shirt sat in a heap under the sink and I picked it up. Thankfully, I'd had the audacity to flush the toilet after puking. I washed my hands, scrubbing off the blood. My thoughts were slowly trickling back.

But it wasn't time to think about that right now. What I needed was sleep. And once I woke up, I would be able to handle everything.

It took five minutes of scrubbing, but I eventually got all of the blood off of my hands. The water in the sink was dark as it swirled down the drain. 

Cassidy was still standing in the kitchen when I walked back out, her face utterly pale.

"I'm going to go to sleep," I said. My voice came out in a quiet croak.

"Okay. Please. If you need anything, knock. Or call."

I didn't bother admitting to Cassidy that I didn't have a phone. I didn't have the energy right at that moment.

Instead, I headed into my room, locked the door, and passed out on my twin-sized bed.