Chapter 4 - Rylee's Decision

Rylee

I woke up in my apartment with a strange weight on my chest—like a small stone pressing there nonstop. I was still wearing the same clothes, which now felt disgusting against my skin. I peeled them off quickly and stared at them on the floor for a moment before heading to the bathroom.

Hot water streamed down. I scrubbed myself relentlessly, as if the water could wash away what had happened that night, as if the stain could be removed with soap. My hands trembled. In the mirror my eyes were red and dull. I barely recognized myself.

Not long after, the memory surged back—Professor Vaughn’s laugh, his footsteps in the room, the pressure on my body. Then another image that made my heart stumble: the cold man from the gym. Henry. Last night he’d become someone unfamiliar—no longer just distant and indifferent, but someone stubborn who refused to let me go. The memory itself confused me: a faint sense of safety warred with shame and guilt. I felt filthy, even though I knew I wasn’t to blame.

I stood over the sink, staring at the swollen shadows beneath my eyes. “Wake up,” I whispered to myself. No words could fix it. Nothing could erase what happened. All that remained were small choices: change clothes, patch what was torn, decide who I would tell—or choose silence.

Professor Vaughn’s warning kept looping in my head: “Be a good girl. Tell anyone, and I’ll find you—again and again—until you learn your place.” Should I report it? Or would that create more mess if he found out?

My phone buzzed with notifications: a missed call from Dad, then a message from Mom: “Dad’s really worried. We couldn’t reach you last night. Call us.” My chest tightened.

I opened the door halfway. In the hallway, draped on the hook, was a thick jacket that wasn’t mine, a small note tucked inside. His handwriting was plain:

“I’m outside. If you need anything — H”

There are no name in the card, but i knew exactly who it was

There were a thousand things I wanted to say and decisions to make. For now I just stood holding the jacket, letting the silence of the hallway give me a moment to breathe.

\~\~\~

The first thing I had to do was call my father. He would worry—God, he would worry—and I was terrified he’d catch the next plane to Minneapolis. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

“Rylee, why didn’t you pick up last night?” His voice was already tight with concern.

“I went to the gym, Dad. I was exhausted and passed out as soon as I got home,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“Are you okay? Don’t push yourself so hard.” He always sounded like he wanted to wrap me in a bubble.

“I’m fine… really.” The lie scraped at my throat.

There was a long pause, then a heavy exhale. “I still feel uneasy about this. Call me—if anything happens to you, tell me. Anything. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I hung up and stared at the phone longer than I should have. A hot, unwelcome tear slid down my cheek—the first real one since last night. I pictured him finding out, imagined the way it would crush him, imagined his fury. I couldn’t break him. If anyone was allowed to be broken, it should be me.

After a few deep breaths I forced myself up. There was one more thing I needed to handle.

I cracked the door and found his car still parked outside. Henry slept behind the wheel, expression taut even in sleep. He had stayed up all night.

Why had he gone so far? He wasn’t responsible—just a witness—but still, he’d involved himself. I tapped the glass gently.

He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and opened the door. “How are you feeling? Anything I can do?” His words came quick, edged with worry.

I drew in a long breath. I felt raw and unsteady; his sudden concern only made me more confused. “I… I’m okay. You should go home, Henry,” I managed.

“You still won’t report it?” Panic crept into his voice.

“Nothing happened,” I said, voice tight.

“You can’t pretend nothing happened and not report it, Rylee. Whoever did this could ruin your life.” His voice broke.

“What do you know about my life?” I shot back, both angry and hurt. “You met me a few days ago. Don’t pretend you care.”

“I do care,” he said, quieter now but firm. “I have my reasons. But I do care. Please—at least file a report.”

I looked at him a long time, then nodded, small and fragile. “Fine. Only the report. After that you go home.”

At the crisis center, the staff already knew—Henry had probably called. I kept my face neutral as I gave a clipped account, Vaughn’s laugh and his threat looping in my head. I left out the worst of it, chose each word like stepping stones so I wouldn’t fall apart.

On the drive back, Henry’s frustration spilled out. “I know you’re holding back. You know who did this, don’t you? Why won’t you tell?”

“It’s none of your business,” I said. “This is my life, Henry. I chose not to report. I’ll get stronger. No one will lay a hand on me again—without my consent.”

“Fine. If that’s your decision, then okay. But I’ll stay with you. I’ll teach you. We’ll do strength training and boxing—self defense.” His voice was stubborn, fierce.

I stared at him in disbelief. Did this man just volunteer to train me?

“Why are you so invested?” I asked.

“Because it hurts to see your light dim in front of my eyes, and I can’t stand not doing anything. Please—let me help.” There was a plea in it that made my chest ache.

“Fine. And… thanks for watching over me last night.” I shut the car door.

Back in my apartment, I lay staring at the ceiling. Shame, anger, fear—each one spun through me. Then a new resolve settled in like a small, stubborn ember. I would be stronger. I would learn to defend myself. I would go to the gym, to self-defense classes, and I would not let this define me.

\~\~\~

Henry

I was furious. Why was she so stubborn? If I ever found out who did this, I’d make him pay. Still, the bargain about strength training felt like a small victory. If she wouldn’t tell me everything, at least she’d agreed to get stronger — and I’d be with her every step of the way.

My phone vibrated in my pocket — Winona.

“Don’t forget — the M Energy Drink shoot at one p.m., right? They confirmed.”

Oh. I’d completely forgotten. My mind had been on Rylee all night.

“I’ll be late. Tell the client I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I said flatly. “And Win — for the next few months, I’m only taking jobs around Minneapolis. I need to stay here.”

There was a pause, then Winona: “Okay. I’ll arrange it.”

After I hung up, I sat in the car and stared at the dark hallway of Rylee’s apartment.

I started the engine, held my breath, and let it out slowly. My work wasn’t finished yet.

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