🤢 V.S. PT2 CH3 // Hansel & Gretel - Hesitation

*Excerpts from "Victorias Secret"

It was your normal Thirsty Thursday 

Naturally, by normal, I mean I woke up to a seductive set of golden brown waffles (strawberry of course). Topped with some lightly toasted, cinnamon-curry pistachios that so elegantly complimented the luxurious amber syrup drizzling off each supple curve. It was a little taste of heaven being served by an effervescent golden-blonde angel that shimmered with a radiant morning glow. 

Basically, what I mean to say is: I woke up zip tied to a wooden chair in some dorm room for the scholarly chaps littered with adpi paraphernalia, and rose quartz adornments. Being force fed my two favorite things (strawberries and waffles) by a hospitality major and culinary wizard, who magically forgot i’m allergic pistachios — nothing deadly just this insatiable itch in the back of my throat that i will do quiet anything to appease (remedies can be deadly). Also she was definitely a dirty blonde. 

Anyways i kind of expected this flavor of crazy from her coconut-curry kinda vibe, ya know? Kinda quirky, kinda cute, kinda sweet with a hint of fiery fiesta in there. Low key coulda got into it, breakfast in bed with a side of dessert had high potential. What i didn’t expect, however, was how sis left me pants down, ass out, hands tied with a cure lil kiss on the cheek and a simple “i’ll see you after class hun.” 


NOT COOL VANESSA! I, in fact, can not live, laugh, love in these conditions. I sat for an hour… maybe three; processing. Not to be weird, but what exactly happens at the end of this hostage situation? Like… pain? Pleasure? Death by snoo snoo? Life? Selling my forever dehydrated kidneys on the black market? Can a brother get a general scope of work on this makeshift sex slave job i did not sign up for? Asking for a friend. Yea 

Eventually, I realized I should probably attempt to escape instead of waiting; death does come to those who wait. Unfortunately I have dreams, no real aspirations, just Hugh Hefner type dreams. But that’s something. So instead of waiting on my imminent doom, I started scheming like the little villain i truly was. But, while I had escaped plastic confines before and would many times more, the whole chair situation added a lot of extra none sense I wasn’t as prepared for. I was tied arms crossed behind my back and cuffed tight to the cross rail so leverage was essentially non-existent. She did leave my legs untied, so that was nice. 

But still, all i had in the room was two creaking beds with as much structure as a slinky, a locked bathroom door with one of those silver lever-esque handels, a wooden desk enforced with a metal border topped with a stack of three 6-inch thick hard cover text books, and of course a window adorned by the lovely Alex Cooper and greek letters that personally if i had to guess read: “in case you care to end it yourself, jump here.” 

I would like to preface this by saying: dear uofsc and capstone housing i am no longer liable for the actions described in this disclosure and I consider all actions taken a measurement of self-defense and perseverance of life. Thank you☺️. 

I kicked my legs back and thrust forward, throwing myself on all threes (two legs one neck). Then, naturally, like a feral creatures out of a Jordan Peele movie caged and desperate to escape, I began backing it up (no ms. Kawaii it was not fat enough) towards the desk digging my head into the rigid, splintering floor with every step. And then, bucking and twisting like a rampant donkey, I hurled the chair legs against the tables hoping desperately they would take hold of the wooden confines and snap me free. No such thing happened. So instead, I wiggled my way up onto my legs like a nimble little inchworm (honestly accurate) until I was up and mobile. Now — I would love to say I stood tall like the illustrious titan atlas holding the wooden gates of heaven upon my back, while they provided an evangelic wind that let my luscious hair flow through the wind. But 1. I had no hair 2. It was more a Hunchback no Notre Dame kind of vibe especially with the way i let my simpitude put me in this situation; with head bloody battered and bruised. Absolutely despicable. I drug my exhausted little legs around the table towards the stack of books — lined it up — and with a jaunty hop: snap crackle pop. I was back with my face plunged into the floorboards. Knees bent, and only my angelic ash chastity belt protecting my hind from the elements. Love how my dignity only cost four broken legs. 

I rolled over crushing my arms under my own weight before fully rolling onto my left side: back to bed, huffing and puffing. The room felt like a sweatshop, in the Sahara. Heat waves blurred my vision as the walls slowly melted away dripping paint like fervent cascades. My body much like the walls felt like a lake wading aimlessly as i wished desperately to dislocate my mind from my soul. I curled my legs into my chest until I was a nice content ball and laid against the cold hard floor. Like ice on the skin it worked ardently to cool my side. You would think it would be refreshing: the contrast of hot and cold. But it simply forced a violent haze to overtake my mind. 

I strained for an answer, a next step but all that came was frustration as my legs pleaded to move until a random burst erupted vaulting me against the bed as a splintering snap submerged the room. 

I wiggled my arms to feel the assuring experience of the wood giving in to my whims. I grabbed the bed with my arms and painstakingly scaled up it’s figure until I was giving 90° with trembling legs anticipating they would inevitably be swept from beneath me forcing a never ending cycle of false hope. Fortunately, I was still alone. 

I assumed my hunched position and drudged my feet to the bathroom door, placing an ear of the chair between the handle and pulling tirelessly, yanking, fighting, clawing for my escape sweat searing into my eye’s as my legs shook violently under the quaking influence if my exhaustion, until finally with an iconic Boom! Boom! I collapsed and just as i crashed onto the floor the cross rail snapped releasing me  from my shackles. 

After that I straddled home and collapsed just outside my room door. Needless to say i did not show up to class that day. 

Yeah… you would think that’s where the story would end. And you’d be wrong 😑 

Now, what is excruciatingly important to remember. Is that I wore a white shirt during these events. If you take anything from this story it should be this: NEVER WEAR A WHITE SHIRT TO A HOUSE PARTY. Absolutely NOTHING more irritating. 

Anywho😌 let’s continue. 

I woke up to a text from a lady friend we’ll call Candice (I know I got you let it happen). 

Anyways we’ll call her sarah it’s like the most common name on campus can’t go wrong. Sarah hit me up to join her for some fraternization with the boys from “The Lodge.” Because somehow I was just going to waltz in with a group of 8 girls 2 packs of white claws, some 4 loko tallboys, 4 packs of mich ultra’s, and a smile and everything would be ok. Still to this day blows me I made it through the front door. No clue how I wasn’t immediately escorted out. Makes NO SENSE. But trust me, it was hunndo p the last time I set foot in a house owned by the “alphas” on campus🙄. Anyways after receiving a few dozen glares, as I walked through the dark ally set between a dingy piss stained couch of the cream variety and a pong table, it became very clear i was on exasperatingly thin ice. So, I plopped the liquor in the kitchen opened 2 of the lokos and inhaled. Suddenly, everything was chill. Normal mingling ensued. A couple Chads yelling something around the lines of “yo sarah whose you’re boi.” Or the classic subtly condescending pat on the back that comes with the slow transition from fringe guy to cool kid. 

Finally having the chance to relax and analyze, I looked around to see girlies 1-5 had all conglomerated at this one glorious house party. But that didn’t really matter they would survive I had my role to play and they had their boy’s they were here for; was just a college coincidence that only resulted in 3 cat fights have never understood that. Why you fighting over a boy? When you’re here for a DIFFERENT BOY? So territorial. Greedy even. Pfft can’t have your cake and eat it too ya know? 

Anyways I walked my rounds with Sarah laid claims to be next to run the pong table. Naturally. As some Kent doll wanna be standing at a smooth 6’ flat (lucky af, always hated how i ended up an inch too short for the free clout😡). Anyways 😌, mr kent stood there, low key built, chain and letters out (obviously), and standing with that inebriated fraternity brother confidence that simply can not be replicated, and an annoying ass grin on his face like he just knew everything would go his way. In all honesty in another life Kent doll and I would’ve been decent friends, if he wasn’t a Lodge boy and I wasn’t the glorified geed of the decade. I digress. The real crux of Kenty boy and I becoming friends was actually standing next to him. The italian diva on his arm, with hair like the ocean cascading with an inexplicable elegance down her cherries, sun kissed cheeks. Her fiery amber eyes glaring into the hollow red soul of the opposing side with immense focus. She pulled up like Steph for the three— 

and then as if coming out of a trance, she waved at me with a moonlit smile and a quirky little hop and twirl. And then she ran with a restrained urgency and threw her arms around me adorned by a quick giggle infested greeting and a kiss on the cheek. Then she returned to the table and hit that “splaahhh.” 

I was lost for a quick second but soon I was found again and I realized it was Her. Ms. Hollywood herself. The same girl from that blissfully mis-fated night in the horseshoe. We had been texting and such, cup-caking if you will (and I still had her bracelet in the room) but she was definitely the last person I expected to see here. I imagine the feeling was mutual. 

She giggled and jumped around in that weird way girls do when they’re drunk and placed in uncomfortable situations. I don’t really know how else to explain it it’s just one of those losing cool moments -15 points in my book not gonna lie. 

“Why don’t we switch things up a little? Your partner for mine?” She said starring at sarah with that persistent nervous giggle, but this time there was a hint of spice in the undertone served with a subtle scrunch of the nose. Sarah replied with a laugh. Nothing more, nothing less, but damn did it convey the tension in the room. I don’t know if they were having one of those femchisimo competitions to prove who was better for Kent and I or if it was just like an epic rivalry bestowed upon them at birth to test their prowess. Regardless, what I did know is, suddenly I was standing between two lionesses battling for a throne (king:undetermined). But I planned on playing my role, because the raw tension between these two was stretched so remarkably thin that the thought of taking a breath would have been enough for them to tear the whole house down. It was kinda hot they both got +20 points — it was a specific flavor of crazy I couldn’t help but appreciate . Maybe a rocky road? Flavor assignments were still pending I was but a freshman at the time. 

Sarah begrudgingly stood next to the boy Kent. He was low-key a chill dude, we threw some slight banter across the table to try and deescalate the table, he dapped me up after he inevitably took the L on the table and we all parted he and Sarah went off their separate ways while Hollywood and I sat over on the couch as i completely forgot about the fresh piss stain i was wafting in. 

We caught up on all the events of the day after she forced me to go into excruciating detail about my daring escape earlier that morning, which is where I received my infamous pet name “Bunny.” Let me tell ya; there is no living entity that can so innocently belittle a person and demolish their ego like a women and I stand by that. Anyways we sat there laughing and chatting for the rest of the night. I got a few dozen death glares from Sarah who I was keeping at bay through iMessage (yes not all the games on my phone come from the app store get over it) because frankly, I was being a lil greedy, a little devilish. Well my intentions weren’t really all that bad… I just wanted all the candy. Ya know? The laffy taffies, sugar canes, gumdrops, maybe even a little cookies and milk on the side. You know, feed me and tell me I’m pretty and while we’re at it let’s do a quick math equation and make 1+1=3. Plus, if I’m being honest, I couldn’t really tell if Sarah’s eyes were piercing a whole through my heart or Her’s (granted the text reading “I f****** hate that c*** with her….” might have provided an answer to my question ,but I also barely read my texts fully so yea). Anyways it was about 12:30-ish which was the exact moment that I looked at her and she looked at me with those enchanting eyes glistening so brilliantly that they scorched a permanent painting of their beauty in my memory. A memory I would have cherished forever. WOULD HAVE if Kent’s big for no reason ass didn’t come trotting over puffing his chest out like “tHe BiG MaN oN cAmPuS” talking about “aight champ tours over” as he grabbed me by my white v neck. 

Now, I would love to say I let it slide and realized that I was severely out numbered. I would love to say I knew my odds were against me. I would love to say that I remembered to never be simpin and always be pimpin. That I had realized Sarah was literally right next to me ready to head home. Wish i had simply remembered I really liked this white tee. Or at the bare minimum, I wish I could say I did it because this man was bold face attempting to punk me like I was his dog. 

But I’ll keep it real. all I noticed was that this brawly ass man thought he could take MY girl (who was not my girl, but was still my girl). And that’s when the blind rage kicked in. It was two to the head a quick hook into the right side and three more up the side pounding my foot into the ground with every thud. A boom and a boom and a boom, and then crack as the rampage of my front foot synchronized harmoniously with the glorious sound of his jaw contorting to the left as a kiss of crimson, like lipstick, swung from his. The booming voice of my futile and adolescent violence echoed calamitously throughout my head as my legs and hands began to erupt in a fissured rage at the sight of blood on my once perfectly crisp white tee. My vision, slowly consumed by a corroding black in until all i could see was pretty boy Kent taking blow after blow as he collapsed over a shattering table. Continuing to take strike after strike, until he wasn’t anymore. Hit after hit until my arms dropped as if gravity had drug them through the ground by ironclad chains confining me precariously to my demise all the exertion from that morning finally catching up to me. And within seconds everything change My legs were swept from beneath me as two of kent’s brothers held me up against the entrance door by my limp arms as Kent finally a little less pretty, mouth covered in murky red drool and a gash ever so perfectly so that slithered from the top of his eyelid through his thick brows. As he walked over, with that dumb rose stained grin knuckles splitting as he clinched his fist like a vice ready to suffocate the life from my heart, i realized — despite everything— this fuck still managed to look pretty. And almost as if in perfect reciprocity i took hit after hit to the stomach as i puked a vile mix of four loko and crimson cascades on his black tee (he was smarter than me too hated this kid). Strike after strike as he battered my face, until the ink completely swallowed my vision. And blow after blow, until sarah pushed him off me and we were “kindly escorted” out of the house. 

I walked back to Sarah she slit my eye open with a kitchen knife and suddenly the darkness became a vibrant red spectrum of wonder as i could vaguely make out her face as she doctored my wounds. Sarah was a real one for sure not sure I would advise you trust a drunk college student to save your life but it happens. I woke up at 4am with my arm pinned beneath her arm. I gingerly yanked it from beneath her and checked my phone. It was from Her: 

“Sorry things got so hectic tonight Bun-bun. We should grab coffee sometime lol.” 

She knew i hated coffee and i knew what a text after 2:30 meant. But in that moment everything seemed to disappear, and all that was left were those tiny letters on the screen. An endless moment of bliss that was swiftly interrupted by the agonizingly persistent pinch in my side that consistently reminded me that i was internally bleeding, dehydrated, and for some reason gave me this eerie feeling that I had 4 missed assignments that night. 

I most definitely did. But what’s worse is I definitely had to throw away the shirt.

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