I couldn’t actually remember that night, but I had seen this video hundreds of times. I had watched it obsessively when it was circulating around USC a few months ago. I knew the whole fucking video by heart, but seeing Oakley watch it made me feel the same way as the very first time I saw it.

My stomach dropped as naked Amanda happily ran through the grass singing USC’s fight song. Legacy was laughing, both in the video and standing right next to me. I started tossing my cookies right onto the president’s slippers, tits heaving with each retch, and Legacy’s voice filled the room: “Oh my God, she’s such a sloppy mess. So fucking pathetic,” followed by more giggling. “Look at her ass jiggle.”

“See? That’s why I didn’t recognize you, I was looking for that fat ass.” Chuck sneered at me when the video cut off. Chuck moved forward and pinched my stomach. Hard. I gasped and swatted him away, but he refused to move.

“Leave her alone,” Oakley yelled.

“What? She likes it,” Chuck said with a hard laugh before grabbing my throat and squeezing hard. “She likes being pushed around and teased. She’s desperate. Or at least she was. Doesn’t matter how much weight she loses, Amanda Matthews will always be nothing more than a fat, pathetic bitch.”

This time, I couldn’t stop Oakley. His fist connected with Chuck’s jaw, and Chuck fell backward, yanking him off of me. He was back up again before Oakley could land the next punch, and he started swinging wildly in an attempt to defend himself.

The whole frat house went wild with coeds chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Phones were being whipped out faster than dicks on Tinder.

“Oakley!” I yelled. “Stop, he isn’t worth it!”

Oakley threw one last punch, blackening Chuck’s eye before we heard the police sirens.

Fuck. Fuckity Fuck Fuck.

I grabbed Oakley’s arm, hoping to pull him out of the room so we could escape, but the crowd grew thicker. The video of me was on loop, and I felt the familiar vise of a panic attack closing my throat. “We...we have to l-leave,” I croaked out as Oakley wiped the blood on his knuckles off on Chuck’s shirt.

“Breathe, baby,” he said over the loud shouts as uniformed officers ran inside the frat house. A pair of cops took one look at Chuck, who was out cold, and started putting Oakley in cuffs.

My lungs felt like they were filling with sand. My eyes watered as I willed my voice to work. “Please don’t take him,” I choked out, but it sounded like more of a whisper.

“Oh my God, she looks like she’s going to puke again,” Legacy shouted.