The next day began with a deceptive calm. Birdsong drifted through the air, the sun was shining, and the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and freshly baked rolls. But Alice couldn’t appreciate a second of it. She lifted her swollen eyelids, swallowed the urge to vomit, and winced—her head felt like it was splitting down the middle. In that moment, she was genuinely convinced things couldn’t possibly get worse. Of course, the rational part of her mind reminded her they absolutely could. And her intuition whispered they probably would—soon enough.

  But that wasn’t much comfort, so she chose to ignore them both.

  She shuffled downstairs for breakfast, yawning and silently praying the migraine would pass. She drank some cocoa, ate one roll, then picked up an apple—but even lifting it to her mouth felt like a chore. She felt awful. Probably looked even worse. The concerned innkeeper came over to greet her and chat.

  “Well now, a pretty young lady like you getting up this late? Heartbroken, are we? Those puffy eyes don’t lie,” he said, pulling up a chair beside her.

  Alice looked around, unsure what to say. To her surprise, she realized she was the only one left in the dining room. Had she really been that slow?

  “I didn’t sleep well,” she said. “I just couldn’t fall asleep. Must be the change of scenery.”

  “New bed, new surroundings—yeah, that’ll mess with your sleep, especially on the road. What’s your name?”

  “Alice,” she replied.

  “Alice, go back to your room and take a nap. You don’t look too great. I can bring you lunch if you want.”

  The offer caught her off guard, but at the same time, it warmed her heart. Someone she barely knew was showing her real concern. It was a shame she didn’t care for that particular person's concern... but given the circumstances, she couldn’t afford to be picky.

  “No need, I’ll be fine,” she replied with a wide smile. “Really, I’m okay. I just need a quick nap.”

  “You sure? Well, suit yourself,” the man said with a friendly smile. “You’ve only got two days to rest before you head back home, right? Don’t overdo it.”

  “Exactly. Since I have so little time, I need to pull myself together fast.”

  Alice turned to leave, but the man gently grabbed her hand.

  “Hey, where are your parents? Should you really be here alone?”

  “They’re gone,” she said before she had time to think. The shock on the man’s face made her immediately regret her honesty. “Please don’t worry. I was young when they died. I’m being well looked after.”

  “Who’s taking care of you?”

  “My grandparents. And, well... I guess you could say...” She almost said Not-a-doctor, but thankfully caught herself in time. “...my uncle. Though he probably doesn’t even remember I exist. Doesn’t bother to reach out—not even when I need him most.”

  The man pulled her into a gentle hug, stroking her hair as if she were a child.

  “Poor thing. Life hasn’t been kind to you. I don’t know who your uncle is, but he sounds like a real piece of work. Listen, if you ever want to talk, come find me. I’ll be there for you. Maybe I can help.”

  Those words shattered her. She’d longed so desperately to hear them, to have someone actually say them out loud. She tried to hold herself together, but the tears came anyway. She clung to the man’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He stood with her, gently stroking her back, offering a fragile echo of the fatherly comfort she’d lost forever. When she finally calmed down, she broke away, flushed with embarrassment, and fled to her room. The man stayed behind in the dining room a moment longer, watching her go. His face gave away nothing, but a weight hung behind his eyes.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Alice lay on the bed, clutching a napkin in her hand. Her heart felt lighter, as if a fragile hope had just sparked to life inside her. He was a total stranger, and yet she’d trusted him. Felt a strange, inexplicable connection. She imagined telling him everything—this man with his ever-cheerful smile—imagined him listening patiently, offering advice. She knew it was foolish. She couldn’t involve him. Couldn’t even mention Not-a-doctor. But still… they were only dreams. Childish, naive fantasies born of a teenager aching for a friend.

  “It’s going to be okay now,” she whispered to herself as sleep returned.

  She’d barely been asleep fifteen minutes when a strange sensation woke her. Someone was leaning over her, watching. She opened her eyes slowly—but saw no one. She closed them again, forcing herself to stay calm. Her energy drained away like air from a punctured balloon. It should’ve been a red flag, a warning—something that made her stop and think... But she was too tired, and so, she drifted off again.

  Someone slowly pulled the blanket off her. She remained asleep, but her sleep had grown shallow. She sensed she wasn’t alone. Yet this wasn’t the same unease that had haunted her the night before. No, this was something else entirely. She felt the warmth of a nearby body. The soft, probing touch of fingertips. Someone was touching her. Running their hand along her body. She was too groggy to understand at first, but when that hand began gently massaging her breasts, even her fogged mind grasped something was terribly wrong.

  A flush crept into her cheeks. A quiet moan slipped from her lips. She kept her eyes shut, terrified that opening them would confirm this wasn’t just a dream. But the touch was growing bolder. More deliberate. She had to control her breathing, pretend to still be asleep. Her heart pounded wildly, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was scared.

  No one had ever touched her like that before. But somewhere, deep in her mind…

  Had she known? Suspected? No. She’d hoped. Hoped this trip would end like this. That Not-a-doctor had finally stopped treating her like a child.

  When had hatred turned into infatuation?

  The hand moved lower, leaving her chest, starting a slow descent between her legs. Fear mingled with adrenaline, snapping her fully awake. Her mind raced. She knew what was coming. She wasn’t na?ve. She’d looked it up online. Seen porn. Read about it. She tried to focus, recall everything she’d ever learned. But one thought cut through the noise with terrifying clarity: HE doesn’t smell like garlic.

  Her eyes flew open. Sitting beside her on the bed was the innkeeper. His breath was heavy. His smile twisted. His zipper was down, and his erection stood exposed, shameless. Frozen in terror, Alice felt her entire body lock up. Not now. Please, not now. She couldn’t let this happen. She sprang from the bed as if burned. He reached for her, but missed. Instead, he chuckled and said:

  “Be a good girl. Spread your legs, and I’ll give you exactly what you came here for.”

  “Why…?” she whispered from the far side of the room.

  But the sentence wouldn’t come. Her throat closed with a wave of horror.

  “Oh, come on. You snuggled up to me this morning—made it pretty damn clear.” His voice hardened. “I’m not stupid. I knew what you were after, you little bitch. Now come here—!”

  He shouted the last word. The force of it snapped her out of her frozen state. She darted sideways and locked herself in the bathroom. Only now did the reality hit her. The man screamed and pounded on the door, but only for a moment. He didn’t want to draw attention. Still, he kept talking. Saying things she didn’t want to hear. Telling her what he’d do to her. What he’d done to others.

  “They squealed like pigs when I fucked them. You’ll love it too, you filthy little slut…”

  The words kept coming. She didn’t want to hear them, but they stuck—like rusted nails hammered into her brain, searing visions of what could have happened if she hadn’t woken in time. Curled in the bathroom corner, she shook violently. Tears of disgust streamed down her face. She felt defiled. Unclean. When his voice finally stopped, and the slam of the front door confirmed he was gone, her body betrayed her. She vomited—again and again—until nothing was left. Afterward, she climbed into the shower and turned the water ice cold.

  She shrank beneath it, each freezing droplet hitting her like a needle. She cried.

  Minutes passed. But it didn’t help. She didn’t feel better. Didn’t feel cleaner.

  Didn’t feel anything close to right. She knew—she knew—everything he’d said was a lie.

  She knew it wasn’t her fault, yet she couldn’t silence the echo in her head. She felt guilty. Like she’d brought this on herself. Like the shame was hers to carry. She began to scratch at her skin, clawing it as the cold crept deeper inside. And then— she blacked out.