Chapter 1

I settled into my usual seat on the bus, earbuds in, and began to scroll through my phone. It was just another typical Monday morning, heading to my 8am psychology class at junior college. My mom had already left for her shift at the hospital, and I was grateful to have the quiet morning to myself.

As I checked my WhatsApp, my heart skipped a beat. There was a new message from an unknown number. I hesitated for a moment, wondering who it could be. I didn’t recognize the number, and I was cautious about responding to strangers.

But curiosity got the better of me. I opened the message, and my eyes widened in shock. It was a picture of me, taken at that party a few weeks ago. I had gone with my friends, and things had gotten a little out of hand. I remembered drinking too much and feeling dizzy, but the rest of the night was a blur.

The picture showed me lying on a couch, my mouth open, and ... and something else. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I realized what it was. The tip of a penis was inches from my mouth, and I had no memory of it. I was mortified.

My mind racing, I frantically typed out a response. “Who is this?!?” I demanded, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I hit send and waited, my eyes fixed on the screen.

Who could have taken this picture? And why were they sending it to me now? I felt a sense of vulnerability wash over me, knowing that someone had captured such an intimate moment without my consent.

The bus rumbled on, but I was frozen in my seat, my heart pounding in my chest. I was desperate for answers, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t control.

I tried to focus on my classes, but my mind kept wandering back to the mysterious message. Who could have taken those pictures? And why were they sending them to me? The not knowing was driving me crazy.

As I sat in my psychology class, I couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics at play. Whoever had taken those pictures had control over me, and I hated it. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When lunchtime finally arrived, I grabbed a sandwich and found a quiet spot to eat. I checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time, and my heart sank. There was another message.

My hands trembled as I opened it, and I was met with another picture. This one was similar to the first, but my lips were closer to ... to ... I couldn’t even think about it. I felt a wave of shame wash over me, and I quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching.

I texted back, my fingers flying across the screen. “Please stop sending me these! Who are you?!?” I demanded, trying to keep my panic in check.

But just like before, there was no response. I was left with only my thoughts, and they were a jumbled mess of fear, anxiety, and shame. I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to.

I tried to eat my lunch, but it tasted like cardboard. My mind was racing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced around the cafeteria, but everyone seemed oblivious to my distress.

The silence from the mysterious number was deafening. I was trapped in a nightmare, and I didn’t know how to wake up.

I walked through the front door of my house, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. I was finally home, and I could try to process what was happening. I had been on edge all day, wondering who was sending me those pictures and why.

As I dropped my backpack on the floor, I noticed my phone was buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting another message from the unknown number. But to my surprise, it was a text.