9: Blame Game

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This chapter contains sensitive subject matter of a sexual nature, specifically sexual assault, therefor is potentially triggering. Proceed with caution.


No matter how much she struggled, the weight pressed hard against her shoulder. Alcohol stained breath wafted past her nose and made her stomach heave but her arms were too weak to push the crushing weight away. Her head swam, her dry tongue scratched against her equally dry mouth, and she couldn't tell if the pounding in her head was from the bass line of the music downstairs of something else.

"I'm...I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled, trying to turn her head to the side. A hand grabbed at her jaw and turned her head back. Lips rubbed against the side of her mouth in a sloppy attempt at a kiss and another wave of hot, alcohol soaked breath wrapped around her head and punched her in the gut.

"C'mon, just relax," he said, his words tinged with a laugh. "Relax."

"No...I...I can't breathe," she muttered. She struck at his shoulder but her arms were limp, like noodles. He pressed his forearm into her shoulder and removed his other hand from her face, dropping it down between their bodies. Every effort to use her knees and legs to push him off only spurned him on. "No..."

"Don't worry," he hummed, grabbing her chin in his hand, "you'll feel good soon."

Darkness crept into the cream colored ceiling until it dissolved and formed the canvas of the tent. Mickey blinked and the snores surrounding her came crashing down all at once. The sounds of her dream all faded away, like a needle being taken off a record player. Save for one.

Mickey's eyebrows twitched. The snoring she was used to but the random heavy breathing was weird. She swallowed...and then her blood ran cold. The contracting muscle in her neck brushed against something. And the heavy breathing in her ear that should have faded away with the dream only got louder by her ear. Her eyes popped open when she felt warm, moist air across her face and, despite the tight grip on it, she managed to turn her head.

She came face to face with a camper kneeling by her side, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth slack, the hem of his shirt bunched, his boxers around his knees and...his hand...

"What the fuck!?"

She wasn't sure who yelled that louder, herself when she scrambled to get out of his grasp and to sit up or the other camper when she struck him right between the legs. He fell backwards on his rear end, his hands clutching at his now aching genitals.

Blankets ruffled and cots squeaked as the boys roused from their sleep. Mickey stumbled to get away from the boy, her legs tangling up in her sleeping bag, impeding her movement. She managed to shuffle backwards on her hands, her back resting against the wall of the tent when the lights came on at once, flooding the room in harsh lighting. She squeezed her eyes shut at the abrupt brightness and slowly opened them to see Zero standing by the light switch. The other boys were either sitting up or on their feet, trying to figure out what was going on. The camper still lay in the middle of the tent, his hands between his legs.

"What's going on?" X-Ray asked, his words thick with sleep.

"He was...he just..." Mickey stuttered, pointing a finger at the camper in agony. She couldn't choke out the words, partly due to her shock and...well, she didn't want to end up a tattletale did she? That would brand her with a mark of shame before she could even blink.

"I wasn't doing anything, man," the camper grunted, grasping the edge of a cot to stumble to his feet. "She just freaked out and punched me in the nuts! She's fucking crazy, man!"

"What you doing in our tent, man?" Armpit asked, standing to his full height. "Do we waltz right into your tent?"

"Yeah, get the fuck out of here," Squid spoke up, his words like steel. Mickey hummed. Apparently he still wasn't someone who liked being woken up.

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