“I’ll make them pay.” The night sky was thick with bright, low-hanging stars. Sarah had just said goodbye to her friends at the school gates, promising to call tomorrow. She walked down the quiet street, breathing in the night air that smelled of lilacs and the promise of a new, adult life. Ahead lay nursing school—her childhood dream—and a whole summer of freedom.
“Need a lift, Princess?” The voice came from behind her, smooth and slightly mocking.
A black Cadillac—a serious luxury for their small Pennsylvania town—pulled up silently beside her. At the wheel sat Vance Taylor, the school’s golden boy and the son of a powerful State Senator. His face, confident and handsome as a catalog model, leaned out the window. Beside him lounged Ian Sterling, the son of the town’s Police Commissioner, and in the back sat Paul Thompson, whose father ran the local steel mill. The town’s “Golden Trio.”
They kept to themselves, looking down on everyone else. Most girls in school would have killed for even a glance from them.
“Thanks, but I live close by. I’d rather walk,” Sarah smiled, feeling a bit flustered by the attention.
“Not an option,” Vance said, already stepping out of the car. “A girl this pretty shouldn’t be wandering around alone at night. We’ll walk you.”
His charm was disarming. Ian and Paul got out too, and Sarah found herself surrounded by expensive cologne and confident smiles. It felt awkward to argue, and besides, what was there to fear? It was Vance. They started down the path. At first, the talk was light: graduation, exams, future plans.
But Sarah began to notice something was off. They weren’t heading toward her house; they were veering into the old wooded park that loomed ahead like a dark shadow.
“Guys, my house is the other way,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Shortcut. It’s faster,” Ian muttered, his voice losing its friendly edge.
Suddenly, the air felt cold. The music in her head stopped, replaced by a rising dread. Here, under the thick canopy of old oaks, it was nearly pitch black. The streetlights didn’t reach this far. The smell of lilacs was gone, replaced by damp earth and rotting leaves. Sarah stopped.
“I can take it from here. Thanks for the walk.”
She tried to turn back, but Paul blocked her path. His smirk had turned predatory. Vance stepped close, and Sarah caught the heavy scent of bourbon on his breath.
“What’s the rush, Princess?” His hand settled on her waist. There was no gallantry left in the gesture. His fingers dug in, hard enough to bruise. “The night is just getting started.”
“Let go, you’re hurting me!” She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.
Then the masks fell. The handsome faces twisted into something feral. These weren’t classmates anymore; they were a pack of wolves that had cornered their prey.
“Quiet, doll. You’re gonna love this,” Ian hissed, moving in from the other side.
A wave of icy terror crashed over her. Sarah screamed—loud, desperate, pouring all her fear into it. But it was cut short. Vance’s heavy palm clamped over her mouth. Her struggle was frantic but useless. Strong arms grabbed her and threw her violently to the ground.
The cold, damp grass bit into her back. Her ivory graduation gown—the dress she’d dreamed of for months—was ruined. What happened next wasn’t just violence. It was an erasure. They weren’t just causing pain; they were trampling her soul, her dreams, and her future into the dirt.
She heard them laughing—loud, drunken, triumphant. It was mixed with foul, disgusting jokes.
“Look at her go!” Paul laughed. “And she looked so innocent in class!”
She stopped fighting. Her body went numb from the pain and the humiliation. Her mind began to drift, clinging to fragments of reality: a jagged branch pressing into her cheek, an ant crawling across her hand, distant stars visible through the black branches. She watched them, and it felt like they were winking out one by one. Her world was dying.
But worse than the pain was their amusement. They enjoyed her helplessness. To them, this was just a game, a fun way to end graduation night. When it was over, they stood up. They brushed off their expensive slacks and straightened their hair as if they’d just walked out of a movie theater.
“Alright, let’s go. My old man’s probably checking the clock,” Ian said lazily.
“She won’t say a word,” Vance added, looking down at Sarah’s motionless form with disgust. “And even if she does, who’s going to believe her?”
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