Chapter 50

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Trigger Warning: This chapter contains references to assault which some readers may find upsetting. Reader discretion is adviced.

***

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

I know very little portuguese, but by the context I can guess that the incoherent string of words coming out of this man's mouth mean 'You're in deep trouble.'

He takes a step back, and motions with his hand for me to stand up. Sighing, knowing I've been caught red handed, I do as he says. Blood rushes to my head due to the abrupt posture change, which almost prompts me to pass out. Thankfully, the security guard notices and is nice enough to help me stand steady.  Once I've regained my footing, he gestures towards a door on the far end and instructs me to accompany him in that direction, which I do.

At this point my head is spinning and I feel like throwing up, partly because of the amount of alcohol in my system, partly because of hitting my head on the ground, and partly because of the nerves stirring my stomach.

The guard opens the steel door for me, and as we step inside, I find myself in a small and poorly lit hallway lined with lockers, which seems to be a staff-only accessed area. My palms sweat as we walk further down, thinking about how I'm going to explain to my parents that I'm being sent back home early because I got caught by security trying to sneak into a boy's room in the middle of the night.

We turn the corner into another, longer but more properly illuminated hallway, a wooden door visible at the end, which I'm guessing is our destination. The only bright side I can find in this situation is that the guard isn't intimidating at all, in fact he seems almost friendly. The man  appears to be in his late forties. Short, at least shorter than me, a little on the chubbier side, with dark hair and a military buzz cut. I can only understand a handful of words he's saying, but he tries his best to make conversation with me. I only nod my head and say a breathy "Yeah," as I catch the word 'namorado', and gather that he's asking if I was sneaking into my boyfriend's room. He blabbers on, saying something about young love as I stop to rest against a wall. The sound of his voice fading out, I feel gravity increase on my body as I'm on the verge of passing out.

He notices I'm staying behind, and comes back to carefully grab me by the wrist, making sure I'm okay before placing his hand behind my shoulder and escorting me further down the hall. A few feet before reaching the door my vision starts getting blurry, my eyes getting heavier and my body going limp.

I don't know how long I stay unconscious for, but when I come back to, I feel the concrete of the wall against my back, and I can tell I'm sitting on the floor as the cold ceramic tiles press against my thighs. I feel a chill on my stomach and notice the hem of my dress has ridden all the way up to my belly button. A wave of hot air brushes my face, and I see the blurry image of the guard's face inches away from mine. I freeze as I feel a hand slip between my legs.

My breathing speeds up as panic sets in, and for the first time in my life, my fight or flight response is put to the test. I get an adrenaline rush, my own pulse loud in my ears, and I finally regain control of my body, along with mobility. Kicking my legs and flailing my arms around erratically, I manage to scare the man off me. He looks like he was counting on me to remain unconscious for a longer period of time, so taking advantage of his stunned state, I slip out from under him. Crawling on the floor towards the door, I try to get away from him as fast as I can, and in what must be my first strike of luck in this entire nightmare of an evening, he doesn't try to stop me. Instead, he stays in place, repeating the word "Sorry," over and over again.

I manage to drag my weight up to the door and reach for the handle, using it as support to pull myself up. As I stand, I pull my dress down to its original position, relieved when I notice my underwear hasn't been removed or pushed to the side. I look back to see the guard where I left him, sitting on the floor, balled up with his head in his hands. I desperately turn the doorknob, praying it's not locked. Fortunately, it's not, and the door swings open, making me fall to my knees on the other side.

***

Noah's POV

As Maddison looks back at me with a sneaky grin before darting away towards the lobby, staggering as she turns the corner, I think to myself that this was probably not the best idea. But since we have no other plan, I decide to go along with hers and head to my room. When I reach door number 112, a knot tightens in my chest, and I feel my stomach turn. Something is not right.

Instead of going in like I'm supposed to, I decide to go looking for Maddison in the lobby. She can barely walk straight, I shouldn't have let her go off alone, and now I'm identifying the uneasiness inside me as what is probably a feeling of guilt.

I find the lobby completely silent, empty except for a security guard standing at the glass entrance, probably waiting for the next bus filled with drunken teens to arrive.

"Excuse me," I call his attention as I approach him and he turns to me, "Have you seen a girl wandering around here? She's about this tall, long brown hair, she was wearing a blue dress."

He replies in portuguese, making me wish I hadn't chosen spanish as my second language, and then he just shrugs, shaking his head, which I take as either a no, or an 'I have no idea what you're saying.' Either way, he's no use, so I rush up the stairs to check the girl's floor.

I find Maddie's room and knock on the door loudly once, twice, three times. No one responds or opens, and I don't hear any noises coming from inside either. I bang my fist against the door harder and for the last time, clearly loud enough to wake someone up, as a girl in her pajamas steps out of the room next door, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"What the hell, dude?" she asks, looking annoyed that I disturbed her sleep.

"Sorry!" I quickly apologise, as I discard the option of Maddison being in her own room and run back downstairs.

I wander frantically through the ground floor going around the boy's rooms. Finding no sign of my girlfriend, I finally decide there's no point in going on a wild goose chase and settle for going back to my room and praying for her to show up.

As my keycard opens the door and I enter the room, I remember Maddie said she was going through the back, and I immediately head for the balcony, sliding the glass door open and stepping outside. I look from side to side, but see no sign of Maddison, when suddenly the sound of a door opening to my left catches my attention. My head snaps in that direction, and I see that on the far end of the row of balconies, a petite brunette in a tight blue dress is being escorted by a uniformed man through a door into a poorly lit room.

I panic, turning to run out of my room but as I open the door I crash against someone with such force we both fall to the ground.

"Whoa man, easy there," Jackson says as he dusts off and helps me up. "What's wrong?" he asks, looking at what is probably a terrified expression on my face, "You look like a madman."

"They caught her man," I blurt out, running a hand through my hair, "She-she was so drunk and I told her to spend the night with me just so that I could make sure she was okay, but then she ran off and I-I couldn't find her, but he did and he took her, and now I don't know where she is," I rush through my explanation as I notice my hands start shaking, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Wait, slow down dude," Jackson says, "What are you talking about? Who took her?"

"A guard. I saw her going inside a room with a security guard, but I have no idea where that room is, or what's going to happen to her," I say, "Holy fucking shit this is all my fault. I shouldn't have let her go, I knew I shouldn't have, but I did and now it's too late."

"It's not your fault, Noah," Jackson tries to appease me, but it doesn't help, "I'm sure she'll be fine, they'll probably just question what she was doing back there and let her go. Don't freak out, she'll turn up, and she can't be too far, this is a fairly small hotel," he reasons with me, but it doesn't stop my racing mind.

I pace back and forth, dragging my hands on my face. "Let's go to the lobby and ask where the doors in the back lead, maybe they can tell us," Jackson offers and I nod, thinking it's a logical thing to do. But as I take a step towards the lobby, both Jackson and I freeze at the sound of a thud and a door slamming closed behind us.

I turn around and see Maddison on her knees at the end of the hallway,  feeling as if someone ripped my heart out of my chest and squeezed into a bloody pulp right in front of my eyes. Maddison struggles to stand up and before I know it, the sound of mine and Jackson's steps running down the hallway are echoing as they bounce off the walls.

"Maddie," I call her name as I reach her and take her in my arms, relieved to see her, but alarmed when she stiffens at my touch. She stands still, without moving a muscle and I pull away,  grabbing her by the shoulders at arms length. Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, breathing heavily as I notice the color has drained from her skin, leaving her face a sickly greyish tone. "Maddison, what happened?" I ask, my heart lodged in my throat, the arteries in my neck throbbing in fear of what her response might be.

"Should I go get some help?" Jackson asks from behind me, when Maddison remains silent.

"Try the door," I tell Jackson, referring to the one that Maddison just came stumbling out of.

Jackson does as I say, but the door won't budge and appears to be automatically locked. "It's staff-only, you need a keycard," he says, pointing at the small panel beside the door.

"Go get Matt then." I instruct and Jackson nods, darting off to find our counselor.

"Maddie please, talk to me," I beg, cupping her face in my hands. The fear inside me intensifies when her bloodshot eyes meet mine. "Baby, what is it?" I ask, panicked but trying to keep a soft tone of voice so as not to startle her.

Her mouth opens and her bottom lip quivers, struggling to get her words out. "He-" she starts and stammers. A single tear escapes her eye and she sniffles as she quickly wipes it away with the back of her hand.

"He what?" I ask impatiently, still holding her face in my hands.

"He touched me," she says in a voice so broken and soft that it's almost inaudible.

It takes a second for me to wrap my head around the words that just came out of her mouth, but when I do they start playing on repeat in my mind. Over and over and over, I hear those three words tortuously bounce around in my head, along with my conscience whispering 'This is all your fault."

She looks up, meeting my gaze, the fear behind her eyes screaming at me. That's when I start seeing red.


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