The Womanizer

Chapter 52: Stan

**play Stan by Eminem when you see (*) for a better read

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(Flashback) 6 hours ago...

West Hollywood- Los Angeles

"Are you okay, Miss?"

"Hey, hey! Step back!"

"Oh shit!"

Loud, haunting voices drifted through Lauren's mind, like echoes in a vast, empty cavern. She could hear them, but they were muffled, distant, almost as if she were underwater. She felt weightless, suspended in air, yet at the same time, she was drowning, sinking deeper into an abyss she couldn't claw her way out of. Her body felt both impossibly light and crushingly heavy, as though gravity itself couldn't decide if it wanted to release her or pull her down further. Every sensation was muted, as if she were wrapped in layers of gauze that dulled the world around her.

Through the haze, she could just barely make out the sound of people shouting, voices sharp with urgency and fear. The words were garbled, tangled together, making no sense. Hands gripped her arms, trying to haul her upright, fingers tapping insistently against her cheek, desperate to rouse her. She could feel their touch, the frantic energy in their movements, but her own body wouldn't respond. Her muscles were locked, as if encased in concrete, and no amount of willpower could force them to move.

Her body convulsed, a violent shiver ripping through her, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed, heavy as lead, as if they were glued shut. She was trapped in this state, on the razor's edge between consciousness and oblivion, awake yet asleep, alive yet teetering on the brink of death. Her mind screamed at her to wake up, to fight, to do something, but all she could do was float in the darkness, a ghost in her own skin. The voices faded in and out, their concern a dim echo that barely penetrated the fog. She could feel the panic vibrating through the air, but she was powerless to reach out, to reassure them, to pull herself back to the surface.

It was like being buried alive in a nightmare that had no end, no way out. Every breath she took felt shallow, constricted, her chest tightening as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her. She wanted to scream, to break free, but her throat felt sealed, her voice trapped inside her. She was caught between worlds, neither here nor there, a prisoner of her own mind.

Lauren felt her body being lifted, her legs dragging limply, as she was carried by who she could only assume were two men. She tried to move, to lessen her burden on them, but her limbs felt paralyzed, unresponsive to her commands. Her head lolled forward, her whole body swaying with it, before a sudden jolt yanked her upright again. The world around her was a blur of frantic voices, a chaotic mix of concern and urgency that grated on her nerves. Men and women alike were shouting, their voices overlapping in a cacophony that seemed to pulse with the same desperate energy.

Lauren wanted to laugh bitterly, but her mouth felt sealed shut, her expression a frozen mask of helplessness. The hypocrisy stung. These were the same people who had watched, silent and indifferent, as Ian had violated her in broad daylight. They had done nothing then, and now they were begging for her to wake up, to come back to them. The thought of their sudden concern, their pleading voices, ignited a bitter fire within her. She could almost hear her own inner voice, a harsh, mocking laugh that resonated with disdain. Well, fuck Ian and fuck them too. Their late-stage empathy was as hollow as it was infuriating.

They laid her down gently, their voices a persistent, irritating buzz of pleas and reassurances. Lauren remained perfectly still, content in her defiant silence, letting them believe she was beyond their reach. Their concern was meaningless to her now, a hollow echo in a world she no longer wished to be part of.