I woke the next morning, fully clothed in my own bed-unaware of how I'd gotten home. I didn't remember anything past going to Holland's house and the glass of wine he'd offered me, but I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Every inch of my being hurt. I laid perfectly still, hoping to calm the beating inside my head, but I was unable to stave off using the restroom any longer. Stumbling to the bathroom, I pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. The stream of urine burned my skin like I'd been ripped in half, and when I jerked my head between my legs to see what was causing the discomfort, I noticed the prints on the insides of my thighs.
With as much movement as I could bear, I started to take my clothes off as quickly as I could. There were bruises and marks all over my legs and my pe
