Prologue

She feels sick as the room spins around her and tries desperately to keep her eyes open. Panting. Harsh breathing sounds fill her ears and she pushes against the weight on her chest. The room spins again, then goes dark. Merciful blackness that pulls her under until she feels nothing.

She wakes up alone in the dark room, her head pounding, her mouth like cotton. She struggles to sit up. Her muscles ache and she feels a sharp pain between her legs. She has no idea how long she’s been in this room that smells sour and slightly sweet . . . like sweat and something she doesn’t dare think about. Her head feels like it’s going to split in half as she pulls down her top that has been pushed up under her arms. She smoothes her skirt back over her thighs and a tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it away angrily before gathering her hair in a messy ponytail and staggering into the brightly lit, catastrophically noisy hallway. She glances up and meets the eyes of a classmate, who whispers to her friend as she passes. She hears two words and her face burns with shame. Indian slut.