I let out a whimper, watching the men draw back and leaving Mercy lifeless on the ground.
I don't think she's conscious – perhaps that's lucky for her.
As they file out of the apartment, I start to feel the burn of whatever they did to me. I can't admit to myself what just happened – it's easier to pretend they weren't here at all. But when I pick myself up, a blinding pain shoots through my body. I wince and crawl to Mercy on the ground, gently shaking her. I still feel high on the pills, but my first thought is to help my friend.
"Mercy," I whisper. "Mercy, please wake up."
She whimpers in response but doesn't move. I see pools of cum on the floor. We've been used. We've been... raped by the men Scott owes money too. And both of us were too drugged up to even realize what was happening.
Stifling a sob, I grab my phone from the couch and dial 911 with shaky fingers.
"What are you doing?" Mercy manages to get out.
"Calling the cops."
"No!" She roars to life, turning her pleading eyes filled with tears to mine. "Please, don't do this, Willa. They'll take us both away, they'll lock us up. Just look at this place, it's a mess."
"Those men r-raped us," I stutter. "I need to get help."
But she takes the phone from my hand and I don't fight her. Shame burns in the pit of my stomach threatening to swallow me up whole.
"It's too late now," Mercy mutters. "And Scott will get in trouble. I'm begging you, Wills, don't do this."
In that moment, I can't see her as anything but my childhood friend, my bestie. The one I swapped friendship bracelets with, the one who stood by my side no matter what, the one who mended my heart every single time it hurt. But then I remember what just happened. What those men did to us.
"Please," Mercy begs again. "Don't tell anybody what happened."
"You want me to keep this secret?"
She nods eagerly. "Please. I'll owe you."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry at how far we've come. My best friend is begging me not to turn in our rapists and I'm actually fucking considering it because I love Mercy more than I love myself.
"If you make me keep quiet, we're done," I whisper.
"You can't..." She wheezes and coughs, weakly pulling herself into a sitting position. "Fuck, Willa, don't. Don't do that. Don't make me pick between you and Scott."
"I have to." I jut my chin out, ignoring the pain emanating from between my legs. "You've let it get this far. Look at us, Mercy. What the fuck is happening to us? This isn't how our story was supposed to end."
I can tell tears are burning Mercy's eyes just like they are mine. I want to sob because I already know she isn't going to pick me. It's clear she's already made her choice.
"Don't call the cops," she repeats weakly.
"So, you pick him."
"I don't pick anyone, I –"
"Don't feed me that bullshit." I get up, even though every inch of my body hurts like fucking hell. "If this is your choice, I never want to see you again, Mercy."
She stares at me stubbornly, muttering, "You're supposed to be my best friend."
"You're supposed to be my best friend!" I scream at her in frustration, a sob ripping itself from my lips. "Look what we did to ourselves, Mercy. But it's not too late. One call and we can still get out. I can get you out."
But I already know she doesn't want out.
For a moment, I see my best friend underneath the layers she's built up over the last year. But she's gone faster than she appeared.
"Fine, leave," she hisses. "Just do it already. You've wanted to abandon me all along. Just go, Willa. Fucking go."
I don't say a word in response.
I don't tell her I got us this apartment in the first place by bartering with Theo.
I don't tell her she and Scott are the ones who should leave.
I merely nod and walk to my bedroom on shaky legs, haphazardly throwing my things in a beaten-up suitcase. I'm leaving. There's no way I can stay here.
Sending a message to TyrantDaddy, I beg him for some money, just so I can find a place to sleep. I'm broke as fuck.
But no message comes back. He must be busy.
Desperate, I scroll through my other messages which I have been studiously ignoring since TyrantDaddy has been my only client. Now, I find myself desperate, and I fire off a few replies hoping to get somebody's attention and a couple hundred bucks to my name.
I get out of the apartment without throwing one last look at my former best friend. I stand in the street with nowhere to go and no money to my name when a message finally comes through.