"Fuck you, bitch! You actually kicked me!"

The next second, fists and boots rained down on me like a storm. There was no restraint and no pause.

I lost all sense of direction. My head rang, and pain bloomed everywhere at once. Not a single part of my body escaped it. When I tried to move, even slightly, sharp agony tore through me. Blood continued to seep from the corner of my mouth.

Maybe Zoey could not bear to watch any longer, because she grabbed Ronda's arm, her voice trembling. "That's enough, Ronda. This is too much. You're going to kill her."

Ronda did not even look at her. She turned and slapped Zoey hard across the face.

"What?" she snapped. "You want to stand up for her? Say one more word, and I'll deal with you too."

Zoey did not dare fight back. She covered her face, clenched her teeth, and retreated to the side.

At the sight of my misery, Ronda laughed. She raised her phone and recorded everything, making sure to capture every detail of my condition.

My consciousness began to blur. Through the haze, I saw the satisfaction etched across her face.

I forced the words out. "You smashed my headphones, stole my laptop, and dragged people here to torture me."

I asked hoarsely, "All of this is because of 5 bucks?"

Ronda snorted, her voice cold. "Yes, 5 bucks. You made me uncomfortable, so you pay for it. I told you you'd regret it."

I nearly laughed. "I made you uncomfortable?"

I replayed everything in my head. From beginning to end, she had been the one provoking me. Every single time. And somehow, I was the one at fault.

"I'll give you one last chance," Ronda said. "Get on your knees, apologize, saying you were wrong, and send me the 5 bucks."

She added, lifting her phone, "And don't even think about calling the police or tattling to lecturers after this."

She gave the phone a small shake, her eyes brimming with mockery. "I've got your photos. Unless you really want to blow up all over campus."

I understood perfectly. If I refused to get on my knees, she would not let me leave. With her personality, she would absolutely post those photos.

I did not want this to spiral out of control. If my parents found out, they would be terrified.

But I had done nothing wrong. So why was I the one being humiliated? Was it really that simple? Did having more people mean more power? Did her bad mood mean I had to submit? What kind of logic was that?

No one answered.

After a long moment, I nodded.

"Fine," I said. "I'll get on my knees and apologize."

Ronda gestured to the two men pinning me down, and they released their grip.

"On your knees," she ordered, chin raised.

I bent my knees and dropped to the floor. Pain shot through me, but I did not cry. I forced my mouth open. "I'm sorry."

She dug a finger into her ear. "What was that? I can't hear you."

"I'm sorry!" My voice rose.

Her response came at once. She slapped me again. "You're not happy? Say it again."

I stayed on my knees for a full ten minutes.

Even her brother grew impatient. "Is this over yet? I've got places to be."

Only then did Ronda relent. She pointed at me one last time.

"Remember this," she said. "From now on, when you see me, keep your head down."

Then she turned and left with the others.

Once they were gone, Zoey rushed over and reached out to help me up.

I shoved her away. "Don't touch me."

She kept apologizing, again and again, but I did not listen.

I took out my phone and dialed a number I had never wanted to use like this.

"Dad." My voice broke the moment he answered. "Help me."