Chapter 4: Surviving the Aftermath

His laugh sent chills up my spine.

I wanted to scream, to smash the phone, to erase him from my life. But I couldn’t move.

A wolf never changes its spots.

People say "a leopard can’t change its spots," but for Eric, "wolf" fits better. He was always hunting, always hiding his true nature. I see it now, clear as day.

Eric Morales, that monster, would never change.

Not in this lifetime. Not ever. Some people are just broken in ways you can’t fix.

What fresh start?

He’d come after me again. No one else would know what he meant by those words, but I did.

It was a message, a threat disguised as nostalgia. Only I could hear the warning in his voice.

It was his most brazen taunt. His cruelest humiliation.

He wanted me to know he hadn’t forgotten. That I was still his victim, even now.

Those were the exact words he whispered in my ear the night he assaulted me.

Back then—

When Eric confessed, I thought he was joking. I even laughed and said, “I’m too old for you. There are plenty of cute freshmen girls. Aren’t they enough?”

I tried to keep it light, to let him down easy. But his face changed in an instant. The playfulness vanished, replaced by something dark and intense.

But he suddenly grabbed my hand, pinned me against the bulletin board by the guys’ dorm.

It happened so fast, I barely had time to react. His grip was iron-tight. I felt the panic rising, but I tried to keep calm.

“But I only want you!”

His voice was desperate, almost pleading. But his eyes were wild, and I knew then that I was in danger.

Seeing the look in his eyes, I realized this was no joke. I put away my smile and told him straight up.

I tried to sound firm, to make him understand. “Eric, I’ve always seen you as a kid brother. Besides, I already have a boyfriend—you’ve met him.”

There were still students hanging around outside the dorm. I could hear the whispers starting.

I felt exposed, like everyone was watching, waiting for the drama to unfold. I just wanted to get away.

I was angry. Boundaries matter. Cross the line, and everything gets messy—like a splinter under your skin, like sitting on pins and needles.

I’d learned the hard way that kindness without boundaries is just an invitation for trouble. I turned to leave, hoping he’d get the message.

“We’re not right for each other.” I turned to leave.

But he wouldn’t let me go. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

He blocked my way. “What’s wrong with me? Alyssa! Can you say you don’t like me at all? Then why’d you help me? Why’d you let me come to your school?”

His voice was shaking, but his eyes were hard. He looked like a wounded animal, cornered and ready to lash out.

He looked like a wounded animal, biting his lip, eyes full of hurt and anger.

For a kid just discovering love, I didn’t want to crush him, but I also didn’t want him to misunderstand.

I tried to be gentle, but clear. “Eric, I helped you out of kindness. That’s all. If I gave you the wrong idea, I’m sorry.”

I paused. “And from now on, let’s not see each other anymore. You’re in college now. You don’t need my help.”

I’d decided to cut ties. Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t let Eric keep having fantasies about us.

But it was already too late. The man had lost it.

He lunged at me like a wild animal, pinning me to the grass.

I remember the shock, the sudden weight on my chest, the smell of earth and sweat. I tried to push him off, but he was stronger than I expected.

He bit me.

I cried out, more from fear than pain. It was primal, animalistic—a warning that he wouldn’t be ignored.

Smack!

I slapped him. “Get away from me!”

The sound echoed across the quad. For a second, everything stopped. Then the whispers started again, louder this time.

Eric clutched his face, glaring at me. “Alyssa! You never respected me, did you? You look down on me because I’m poor, because I’m from a small town! What charity? What mentoring? Bullshit! I was just a prop for you to feel good about yourself! You helped me to stroke your ego! Now your true colors are showing, right? People online are right! Being poor is a crime! Poor people don’t even deserve to love!”

His words hit like punches. He twisted everything I’d done, every kindness, into something ugly. I wanted to scream that he was wrong, that he didn’t know me at all.

Every word from Eric was like a slap in my face. Was this supposed to guilt-trip me? I didn’t think so. I never did charity for show. I never bragged about it on Facebook, never wrote about it in my college essays.

But I admit, helping Eric made me feel good. Helping others and feeling good about it—does that make you selfish? I don’t know, and I don’t care.

I just felt tired.

Bone-deep tired.

I laughed at myself. “Eric, so I’m the villain? Fine, I’ll change.”

I straightened my clothes and saw Ethan, my boyfriend, in the crowd. He looked at me, expression complicated. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. If you’d known this would happen, why’d you help him in the first place?