Submerge

H A Z E

Mason stirred awake, his head pounding and his body feeling strangely heavy. He squinted against the harsh morning light streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Disoriented, he sat up slowly, realizing he was lying on a couch in a dimly lit room. 

He tried to piece together the events of the previous night, but everything was hazy. The last clear memory he had was of smoking weed and drinking a beer in Marco's car. After that, everything was a blur. His body ached in a way that felt unfamiliar and unsettling.

Mason glanced down at himself, noticing that his clothes were rumpled and there were small bruises on his arms. Panic flickered at the edge of his consciousness, but he quickly pushed it away, convincing himself that he had just partied too hard. He couldn't let his mind go to the darker places it wanted to explore.

"Hey, you're finally awake," Marco's voice called from the kitchen. "You slept like a rock, man."

Mason turned to see Marco walking towards him with a cup of coffee in hand. He forced a weak smile, trying to appear normal. "Yeah, I guess I needed it."

Marco handed him the coffee and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "You feeling okay? You looked pretty out of it last night."

Mason took a sip of the coffee, hoping it would help clear his foggy mind. "I'm fine. Just... really tired. What happened last night?"

Marco shrugged nonchalantly. "Not much. We drove around, then came back here. You crashed pretty hard on the couch, so I let you sleep."

Mason nodded, accepting the explanation even though it didn't fully make sense. He noticed a dull ache in his lower back and quickly shifted his position, hoping Marco wouldn't notice his discomfort. "i need the bathroom"

He rushed to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, hoping—no, wishing—that the sticky feeling down his pants was not what he was thinking. But his worst fears were confirmed. His thighs were covered in red and white liquid.

His heart raced, his breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. The room started to spin as he struggled to process what he was seeing. Tears welled up in his eyes as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. He had been raped, and the evidence was right there, undeniable and horrifying.

Mason sank to the floor, his back against the cold tile wall, feeling utterly violated and helpless. He wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth as he tried to steady his breathing. The walls of the bathroom seemed to close in on him, the claustrophobic sensation intensifying his panic.

How could this have happened? He had trusted Marco. He thought he was safe. The betrayal cut deep, adding another layer of pain to his already fractured psyche.

He could hear Marco moving around in the kitchen, oblivious to the turmoil Mason was experiencing just a few feet away. The sound of Marco's voice from earlier echoed in his mind, each word now laced with a sinister undertone.

With great effort, Mason forced himself to stand. He wiped his tears, trying to summon the strength to confront Marco. He needed answers, and he needed to know why this had happened. As he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway, his legs felt like they were made of lead.

He walked into the kitchen, his eyes locking onto Marco. But before he could say a word, his gaze shifted to the table. There, lying casually among the clutter, was a gun.

Mason froze, his heart pounding even harder. The sight of the gun sent a wave of fear crashing over him. Confronting Marco suddenly seemed like a dangerous idea. He couldn't risk it, not with a weapon so easily within reach.