“Jesus, Mina, what are you doing? Stop!”

“I can’t believe I trusted her,” I cried as I emptied the drawers and the closet, filling the bags when I ran out of room in the suitcase.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re at work, but this is an emergency. I came to see you at the apartment and was talking to Mina. Now, she’s packing everything up and mumbling about everything being a joke and crying about trusting people.” I heard him, but it was almost like he was underwater. Everything blurred around the edges and my vision started wobbling toward black. I couldn’t catch my breath and suddenly, I was back in that room in the basement of the football house. My arms and feet were tied to the chair and they were cutting my clothing away.

“What were you thinking?” One of them asked me. “How could you think we would ever even have considered you? You look like a 12-year-old.”

“Nah, my sister is 12 and she actually has tits,” another voice called out and the laughter started all over again.

“Look at her, crying like a baby!” Someone taunted.

“Should we blindfold her?” My roommate was the one to ask that. It only made me cry more, because I realized she had been in on this all along.

“Nope. She needs to watch and see everyone’s reactions. I can’t believe she thought a football player would be interested in her. Look at her,” the girl hissed, then she pinched one of my nipples. “She barely has anything to get a hold of. Someone get the diaper.”

They had two of the men standing on the outskirts come over and lift me off the chair just enough that the girl was able to get the diaper under my butt, wrapped, and then fastened around my waist. They were all laughing at me as it happened.

“Look at the little baby, where’s the pacifier?” It was only when they put the damn thing in my mouth and taped it there that I realized I hadn’t even screamed for help since they cut my clothes away. I’d just sat there, not that I had much ability to move, but I hadn’t screamed or called out for help because I’d been paralyzed by their words. Their laughter shattered me. It was when I realized that they had already broken me that I stopped responding, stopped crying, stopped caring.

My eyes still saw things, my ears still heard things. I felt the stinging smack of a palm connecting with my face only to see my best friend standing there, sneering at me. She said something, but it didn’t register. She was here with him, the man they convinced me was interested after I told them I had a crush on him.

My roommate pulled her phone out and took pictures. My best friend did too. I should care about that, right? They would probably show people. What did it matter now though? Everyone I trusted was in this room, doing these things to me. I was nothing. Nobody. Who was left to care if there were awful pictures of me out there?