And the girl? It doesn’t look like Carrie. No, not at all. She’s shorter and her face. I can’t quite make out her face but that body is not Carrie’s. I take a deep breath and look closer. Tom’s body is not blocking her from view entirely as before. Now, it’s perfectly clear that she is completely passed out. Her body is limp. Unresponsive.

No, no, no. Whoever this is, she looks dead. Or at least, asleep. I have no idea who she is, but one thing is for sure. She’s definitely not giving her consent.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I hop over to the front door and turn the handle. It swings right open. Tom doesn’t notice me at first. He continues to make those sickening sounds of pleasure and pump away, holding the girl’s legs in the air.

Suddenly, I start to have doubts. What if she is consenting? I mean, I consented to being tied up. Maybe if someone had spied on me and Aiden through the window, they would also think that he was abusing me. But it’s too late for any of those thoughts now. I’m here, standing in the doorway. And I have to find out what’s happening.

“What are you doing?” I ask loudly. Tom stops in mid-action and turns his head to look at me. Once he sees me, he drops the girl’s legs and pulls out. A part of me expects the girl to sit up on her elbows and tell me to get the fuck out, but she doesn’t. Instead, what I see is the grave expression on Tom’s face. He looks terrified. His eyes shift from side to side, trying to figure out what to say and do.

“Tom, what the fuck?” I ask. No, my initial response to this was correct. Something is off here. I step inside the cottage and walk over closer to the bed. That’s when it hits me. The girl on the bed is completely passed out. Unresponsive. Tom grabs his pants and starts to get dressed haphazardly. He puts one foot into the pants, hops around, and almost slips.

Suddenly, everything starts to move in slow motion. I walk over to the girl and my ears start to buzz. Is this really her? My heart starts to beat so fast it feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I try to inhale, but my chest seizes up.

“What are you doing?” I ask over and over as I drape myself over the girl on the bed. No, it can’t be her. It just can’t. She’s completely nude from the top down, and her dress is pushed up to her waist. I grab her by the shoulders and start to shake her as fast as I can.

“Caroline, Caroline. Wake up, Caroline!”

“She just fell asleep,” Tom says somewhere behind me. “She was totally into it before.”

I hear him talking, but I’m not entirely processing everything that he’s saying. My only focus now is to wake her up. She has to be okay. I have to make her okay.

But no matter how much I shake her, she doesn’t respond. No, no, no. Hot tears are streaming out of my eyes. I can’t see anything more than a few inches in front of my face.

“Wake up, Caroline,” I say over and over. A few of my tears run into my mouth and I choke on them. I cough and wipe my eyes.

I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to do. Then I reach for her neck. I press my fingers to her artery. Please, please, please. Please, let there be a heartbeat. And then I feel it. It’s faint, but it’s there. Oh my God. Okay, okay, I say to myself. I kneel down and press my head to her lips. Please, breathe on me, Caroline, I say to myself silently as I wait.

Somewhere behind me, Tom is saying something. He’s rushing around the room. He’s freaking out, but I can’t pay attention to him at all. It’s almost like nothing else exists except for this moment right now. And then, suddenly, she breathes. I clearly feel her breathe in and out, and I exhale deeply myself. Okay, at least she’s alive. Despite anything else that happened.

Still, she’s unresponsive. So, I need to act fast. I bury my hands in my jacket and pull out my phone. My hands are shaking so violently, I can barely make out the numbers. Luckily, there are only three. 911.

“What’s your emergency?” a woman asks on the other end.

“What are you doing?” Tom asks, grabbing the phone out of my hand. I stare at him.

“Give me that phone. Caroline is passed out!” I yell loudly. He hasn’t hung up yet and I need to get the message out to the 911 dispatcher.

“No, she’s just sleeping.”

“You were having sex with her. She’s completely unresponsive. And you were having sex with her, Tom. Give me that phone.”

“No,” he says and hangs up. Then he puts my phone in his pocket and glares at me. Shit. Cold sweat courses through my veins. It suddenly occurs to me exactly the kind of vulnerable situation that I’m in. I’m alone in this room with him. Caroline is passed out. I had just caught him doing something to her that he has no right to. And he has taken away my phone. He’s growing desperate and desperation is never a good quality in men. That’s when violence comes about.

“What are you doing, Ellie? You’re going to call the cops on me? I’m your friend.”

“I know that,” I say slowly. “You are. But we need to get her help. I don't know why she’s not responding, Tom. Maybe she had too much to drink. But I think she needs medical help. That’s the whole reason I was calling them.”

Tom paces around the room. I glance at the door at the far corner. That’s my way out, but he’s standing in front of it. I can try to run for it, but what if he were to catch me? No, I need to play this smart.

“No, it wasn’t,” Tom says with a disappointed look on his face. “You were calling to turn me in. But the thing is, Ellie, that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, we were just having sex. And she passed out. But before she did, she was totally into it.”

“But what about Carrie?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Ellie. Caroline was just sitting on the porch. She had a fight with that guy who she came with. We kissed and one thing led to another. You know how it is.”

“Yes, of course,” I lie. I have to agree with what he says now. That’s my only way out. Who knows what he will do to me if I don't pretend to be his friend again. Who knows what he’s capable of. I never thought that he would be capable of raping a girl, let alone our friend. But, apparently, I don't know Tom as well as I thought I did. Maybe I never really knew him.