I had come on that trip to find peace. Instead, I had found a possessive football star who had decided I was his.
He was a celebrity athlete, a walking mountain of muscle and arrogance who had looked at me like I was a problem he wanted to solve with his body.
And now, he was sleeping inches away from me in a tent so small I could feel the heat of his obsession.
He had told me he was protecting me from the dangers lurking in the dark. He had lied.
The only predator in those woods had been him.
He had put his hands on me in the dark, vowing to teach me everything my straight, anxious body had secretly craved. All he wanted was to break me down, build me back up, and own every single piece.