Lips sealed together, but mind racing. Words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't speak. No matter how bad I wanted to let them come tumbling out of my mouth, I was biting my tongue. Despite the calm features shown on my face and the fake smile creasing on my slightly shaking lips, rage boiled within me. My thoughts were buzzing nonstop with memories that continued to haunt me. I closed my eyes tightly and I flinched when it hit me again. Drinking, laughing, not a care in the world. A hand brushed along my thigh. My head was pounding and the world was spinning. The boy next to me handed me another drink. My friends sat on the other side. The other girl sat on the far side of the couch, watching as she leaned against another boy. Suddenly everything went black. Words rang out in my ears. "He was touching her chest... He kept grabbing her thigh." "He's a nice boy, he just wanted to share his drink." My eyes opened and I noticed a girl nearby staring at me wide-eyed. I followed her gaze and noticed my hands balled into fists, the knuckles beginning to turn white. My body was shaking. The anger inside of me was overflowing as I shook my head and stood up to leave my seat. I walked down the hall, my head low as I stared dully at the floor. I knew there was no point in trying to fight it. They denied holding power over me, but it was the harsh reality. No matter what I would say, they would still push me to bake cookies, write an apology letter, and then deliver them to the boys and face them to say I was sorry for getting sick in front of them, on myself. Tears began to escape my eyelashes and trickle down my face. I was overwhelmed with embarrassment and I felt degraded. For a "forward-thinking" group, baking cookies for men seemed awfully traditionalistic. Not only was I humiliated just by getting sick, but I was also having to apologize to a guy who had laid hands on me without consent. What burned the most, was the girl who just sat there and watched and didn't say a damn thing was the same one who was supporting my punishment. The others weren't there, they didn't see it happen. What should they believe? I stopped dead in my tracks. I found myself standing alone in a dark room before a tall mirror. I stared back at the stranger looking at me in the glass. There were no tears in her broken eyes. Bruises and scars covered her body. Her clothes were ruffled. She stood tall, head held high as she bit her lip. Abruptly, calloused hands reached out from the darkness behind her and wrapped around her waist and neck. Her body started to shake violently as she tried to hold her ground. However, no matter how strong and steady the girl in the mirror appeared, I could see it in her eyes. Hands had left red marks on her wrists. She closed her eyes as she began to fall back into the darkness. My jaw dropped and I felt my heart lurch. I darted to the glass and shoved my fist into it. The tormenting images in my reflection exploded as the shattered shards flew through the air and littered the floor around me. A silent wail was echoing in my mind. I jumped awake, my heart beating fast and the blood roaring in my ears. My body was drenched in cold sweat. I peered into the darkness to find myself surrounded by the other girls fast asleep in their beds. I glanced behind me and felt my blood run cold. Within seconds of seeing her face, I wanted to run, but fight. I did not feel "safe" sleeping under the same roof as the bitch who just sat and watched him lay his hands on me. She knew his intentions, but there was no help. Then the thought hit me. The only help I'll get from her now is the scar that's been left within me. It will always stay with me, unlike these monsters that surround me.