Chapter 21 It was too much. Even if I looked calm on the outside, inside, everything was falling apart. I had pushed myself past something, past a line I didn't fully know existed until it was too late. I didn't hate what they did to me. That wasn't the problem. I loved them. All of them. And I wanted them to have me the way they liked. That part wasn't fake. I meant it when I said I was theirs. I wanted to make them feel good. And I did. The way they moaned, the way they touched me, the way they looked at me while I sucked them off, it was obvious they enjoyed it, that it meant something to them. The cock-sucking wasn't the part that got to me. I actually liked that. I was good at it, and I was proud of that. But when they came all over me, when I felt their cum dripping down my face, my chest, my stomach...something shifted inside me. I felt disgusting. I felt like a fucking slut. Not in the fun, playful way. Not in the way that turned me on. It was different. I felt used, even though I'd volunteered myself for it. I'd offered it, and they took it. They weren't cruel. They weren't careless. But still, I felt...wrong. Coated in something I didn't know how to wash off. A lump started forming in my throat, heavy and thick, and I tried to swallow it down. Tried to pretend it wasn't there. But the second I looked up at Tripp it all hit me at once. My vision blurred. My eyes watered. I didn't want to cry, not in front of them. I knew what it would do to them. They'd blame themselves. They'd think they hurt me, when really, it wasn't their fault at all. It was mine. God, why the hell did I think I was ready for this? Why did I tell myself I could handle something so intense? I wasn't a porn star. I wasn't that woman on the TV screen, taking eight guys at once, smiling as each one stepped up and used her. She looked like she could take anything. Like nothing touched her. Maybe she was just better at disconnecting her emotions, or maybe she had a damn good therapist on speed dial. Whatever her secret was, I clearly didn't have it. I wasn't made for this. At least not yet. I was still figuring myself out. Still trying to understand what I could and couldn't take. I thought I had boundaries, and I thought I knew them. But I was wrong. I had no clue how far I could actually go. And now here I was, on the other side of a line I crossed without a second thought. "You okay, Lissy?" Dash's voice was soft, careful, like he already knew I wasn't. And I hated that he could see through me so easily. I hated that he was probably already regretting this whole thing. That maybe he was thinking he'd never touch me again. That I wasn't cut out for this kind of intimacy, for this kind of closeness. "I'm fine," I croaked out, my throat raw, not just from the emotions, but from everything else, too. "You sure?" Tripp stepped toward me and reached out, hand gently brushing my elbow like he was ready to help me up. "I said I'm fine," I snapped, sharper than I meant, yanking my arm away as I stood up on my own. The cum was still dripping, some of it sliding slowly down my stomach, while other streaks had already started to dry and tighten on my skin. I felt sticky. Gross. I needed a shower more than I needed anything else. "Bliss, wait-" Tripp's hand reached for mine again, trying to keep me from walking off. "Tell me what's wrong." "Nothing's wrong," I hissed back, frowning hard as I looked him in the eye. I wasn't even mad at them. I was furious with myself. I was the one who misjudged the situation. I was the one who didn't know her own limits. "I just want to take a shower." Tripp studied me closely, concern written all over his face, and Dash moved in behind me, resting a hand on my lower back. The second his skin touched mine, I flinched. I couldn't take it. Not right now. If they kept trying to touch me, I was going to completely lose it. "You're having an anxiety attack, Lissy," Dash said calmly, and it struck me hard because he wasn't wrong. My hands were shaking. My fingers were tingling. My chest was rising and falling way too fast, and it hit me that I wasn't breathing right. My lungs felt tight. My throat was closing up. I couldn't think straight. "Get her a blanket," Rhys said, his voice sounding concerned. "Have her sit down." "We're trying," Tripp murmured, still trying to guide me somewhere safer. "Come on, Lissy. Come sit with us." "No." My vision flickered, went fuzzy, and the edges were fading out. "I want to take a shower." "I'll help you," Dash offered. And I knew he meant it in the kindest way. He'd been there before, so many times when I spiraled. But this time felt different. This time, I didn't think anyone could help me. "I can do it alone." "Lissy-" "Stop! Leave me alone!" I shoved my arms out to get them off me, accidentally hitting both Dash and Tripp in the process. "Let me go!" "Let her," Rhys cut in, voice grim. "Shit, she needs a moment to herself." "She needs someone," Dash argued, his voice tight with worry. "She's having a panic attack." I knew he wanted to help. I wanted to let him. But the thought of one more touch, one more hand on me, made my skin crawl. Before I could hurt anyone else, I bolted. I ran upstairs, not even thinking about the fact that I was still naked, still covered. That Dad or Odin could've walked out at any second and seen me like that. I didn't care. I just needed to get to the bathroom. I made it and slammed the door, then locked it. I turned on the water without even checking the temperature and stood there in the middle of the room, panting like I'd run miles. My hands braced on the counter. Tears ran down my cheeks faster than I could stop them. I clenched my teeth to keep the sobs in, but the pressure in my throat just got worse. The lump was unbearable. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get air in, no matter how hard I tried. "Lissy." Dash's voice came from the other side of the door. "Please, open up. You don't have to go through this alone. Let me hold you." His voice broke through the fog just enough to ease the ache. But the panic clung to me like wet clothes. It wasn't leaving. Not yet. Not unless I let him in. But I couldn't. I felt disgusting. I couldn't let him see me like this. "Lissy, please," he said again. "We don't have to talk about what happened. Just let me hold you." If I let him in, I'd fall apart. If I didn't, I might still fall apart. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. I didn't answer. Just stood there silently, trying to keep the sobs inside. My chest ached. My throat burned. My lungs were still empty. And in that moment, I didn't even care. Who needed air? Who needed to keep it together after completely screwing everything up? It was all my fault. They didn't deserve to feel like this. They didn't deserve to feel like they broke me. Because they didn't. I broke myself. "Lissy," Dash said again, still right outside. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll be right here. Just breathe. Deep breath in, deep breath out." Somehow, I made it into the shower. The hot water stung against my skin, but I didn't care. I scrubbed myself clean, over and over again, but I still didn't feel clean. Even after everything was washed off, I still felt filthy. I wrapped myself in a towel, muffled my sobs into it, and sat on the toilet, staring blankly at the floor. Slowly, the pain in my chest faded, replaced by numbness. It wasn't better though. I heard Tripp outside the bathroom, then Ashby, then Rhys. Asking Dash what was going on, if I was okay. "She needs time," Dash told them. And they didn't argue. They didn't push. They understood. And I hated that too, because I didn't deserve that kind of understanding. I didn't deserve them. I didn't deserve their love, their patience, their care. I needed to figure this out on my own. I needed to take responsibility for what happened. I needed to be honest with myself about what I could handle. Because I pushed too far. And now everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. *** I woke up on the bathroom floor, still wrapped in the same towel I'd thrown around myself hours ago. The tile underneath me was ice cold, hard against my skin, and my whole body felt stiff, like I'd barely moved the entire time I was asleep. Or unconscious. I wasn't even sure which. The overhead light was still on and way too bright. It made my eyes ache the second I opened them. I squinted up at the ceiling, disoriented, blinking against the sharpness of it. My head felt heavy, like there was still fog hanging around in there, and when I sat up slowly, the dizziness hit me like a slow wave. It wasn't strong enough to knock me back down, but enough to make my stomach turn and my balance feel off. I sat there for a second, trying to ground myself. I took a few steady breaths. The first real lungfuls of air I'd gotten all night. The panic was gone. It wasn't clawing at my throat anymore. I could actually breathe again. I pushed myself up to stand, moving slow so my legs wouldn't give in. They didn't, but they weren't exactly steady either. My muscles felt drained and weak, like I'd been through something physical and emotional and everything in between. I spotted clean panties and an old, oversized t-shirt I'd hung on the radiator earlier that day. I left them there as if I knew I would need them later. I pulled off the towel, dropped it on the edge of the tub, and stepped into the underwear, then pulled the shirt over my head. I felt a little more human with something clean covering me. When I opened the bathroom door, the first thing I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. Dash. He was lying on the bedroom floor right outside my bathroom. Curled up on his side, one arm tucked under his head like a makeshift pillow, the other resting on his chest. He never left. My throat clenched instantly. The sight of him like that, sleeping on the hardwood, right outside the door like a silent protector, hit me harder than I expected. It was so Dash. He didn't say much, didn't make a scene, didn't barge in or demand to be let inside. He just stayed close. He stayed with me. I felt the tears start to build again. Not from panic this time, but from something else. Guilt. Gratitude. Love. All of it tangled together until I could barely hold it back. I crouched down slowly in front of him, careful not to startle him, and gently reached out to tap his shoulder. "Dash," I whispered, my voice still rough and hoarse from crying and everything else I'd put my body through. "Hey..." His eyes blinked open almost instantly, and when he saw me, his whole face softened with so much relief it made my chest ache all over again. "Lissy," he whispered, sitting up slowly. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then he reached for me without thinking. The hug he pulled me in wasn't fast or aggressive. Just a gentle motion pulling me into him to feel my body against his. I didn't pull away this time. I let him wrap me up in his arms and pull me into his chest. He sat back against the wall with me tucked into his lap, his arms strong and steady around my body, holding me like he didn't plan to let go for a while. I folded into him, my head resting beneath his chin, my hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt. "You breathing okay now?" he asked softly, his lips brushing against the top of my head. "Yeah," I whispered. "It's better now." His body eased a little because he was finally able to breathe too. "You scared the hell out of me, Lissy." "I know," I mumbled, eyes closing against his chest. "I scared myself too." We sat like that for a few minutes, in the quiet. He didn't push me to talk. He didn't try to fix anything. He just held me, like he knew it was all I needed. And it was. But eventually, I pulled back enough to look up at him. His eyes were bloodshot from worrying all night. "I have to tell Dad," I said quietly. Dash frowned, his gaze steady on mine like he was trying to read every unspoken thought in my head. He nodded slowly, but he was still thinking it through even as he answered. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Maybe it'll help. Your dad knows about your panic attacks. Maybe this time, he'll take it seriously. Get you someone to talk to, a real therapist or something. Someone who knows how to help with-" "That's not what I want to tell him," I said, cutting him off before he could finish. His eyes narrowed slightly. The frown returned immediately, deeper this time. There was confusion there, for sure, but it was more than that. His expression shifted like he already knew what I meant. "Oh," he said, voice quieter now. His gaze dropped for a second and then came back up. "Bliss...you know that's not a good idea." "I know," I said quickly, almost defensively. "I know it'll ruin everything." Because it would. It absolutely would. The moment those words came out of my mouth and reached Dad's ears, things would start falling apart. The whole house, the safety of what we had, the illusion of something that felt almost normal in its own fucked-up way...it would all come undone. "But I can't keep this from him anymore," I added. My voice was tight, my throat burning again. "I messed up last night. I let it go too far, and I didn't stop it. I could've. I should've. But I didn't." I paused and looked down at my hands, which were resting in his lap now. My fingers trembled just a little. "I wasn't ready for something like that. I thought I was. But I wasn't. I felt...disgusting afterward. Like a slut. Like someone I didn't even recognize." My voice cracked slightly. "I didn't know I had limits like that until I crossed them." Dash didn't speak right away. I could feel his whole body tense. He didn't even need to say anything. I could already hear his thoughts playing out in the silence. And then he finally broke it. "They'll kill us," he said. "Not you-but us. Me. Tripp. Ashby. Rhys. Both our dads will fucking destroy us if you tell them what we've been doing. Bliss, you can't." I flinched slightly at the sharpness in his voice, but I didn't back down. "Talk to me instead," he said quickly, his tone softening again, desperate now. "Whatever you're feeling-whatever's eating you up inside-we'll figure it out together. You don't have to go to him. You don't have to blow everything up just because you're feeling overwhelmed right now. We can fix this. You and me." And I wanted so badly to believe him. I wanted to crawl into that version of reality and stay there, pretend this could all be untangled without consequences. That if I just poured my heart out to Dash, the guilt and the confusion and the weight of what we'd done would somehow vanish. That he could hold me long enough for the shame to dissolve. But I couldn't. It wasn't just about talking. It wasn't about needing advice. It was something deeper than that. Like a switch had been flipped inside me during that panic attack. Some line in my brain had been crossed, and now I couldn't unsee the truth. What we did wasn't normal. It wasn't harmless. It wasn't something I could keep burying beneath silence and stolen moments. "I have to tell him," I whispered, not even looking at him anymore. I stared at my hands instead, still resting in his lap. "I won't say it was you guys. I won't say anyone pressured me. I'll take all the blame. I'll tell him it was my idea. That I wanted it. That I let it happen." "Lissy..." Dash exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand up and down my back, his touch light and tentative, like he wasn't sure what to do with me anymore. And maybe he didn't. I'd just dropped something massive in his lap, and he was still trying to comfort me, still trying to make sure I was okay. That was just who he was. Too kind, too sweet for the situation I was dragging him into. "You don't have to protect us like that," he said quietly. "Yes, I do," I said, finally lifting my head to look at him. "Because I started it. I let it get this far. And if there are consequences, I'm the one who should deal with them. Not you. Not the others." He stared at me for a long time, eyes searching mine. He was still hoping I'd say I didn't mean it. But I did. I meant every word. "Please," I added, my voice barely above a whisper. "I have to tell him." He didn't say yes, but he didn't argue again either. He just looked at me, and something in his expression softened into acceptance. Like he understood that once I made up my mind, there wasn't much anyone could do to stop me. Even so, I could feel the tension growing in my body again, that urge to get up and walk straight to my dad's room and just blurt it all out. It was growing stronger by the second, and my legs were itching to move before my brain could talk me out of it. But I stayed where I was, because part of me still hoped Dash would say something that would make this all make sense again. That would give me a reason to keep it buried a little longer. "Let me hold you for a little while longer," he said. He could feel the storm building in my chest. He wrapped his arms tighter around me, pulling me against him again. "Please. Just...come to bed. Let's just lie down. You don't have to decide anything tonight." I hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. He stood up first, then bent and lifted me easily into his arms, carrying me the few feet to my bed. The bedroom door was still closed, the house silent around us. Everyone else was asleep, completely unaware of the emotional chaos unraveling behind my bedroom door. "Here," he whispered, laying me down gently. He pulled the blanket up over us and pulled me close to his chest. I curled into him, letting my face press into his shirt, letting his warmth settle over me like a shield. He held me like that until my body began to relax again. And eventually, despite the storm still spinning in my head, I fell asleep. But even in sleep, nothing felt right. My dreams were blurry and disjointed. My thoughts were a mess. My body felt disconnected from me, like it didn't belong to me anymore. I didn't feel whole. I didn't feel okay. Everything inside me, my feelings, my instincts, my sense of safety, was twisted up beyond recognition. Everything about me, and everything surrounding me, felt wrong. And in the moment, I simply had to accept it. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!