The weekend before June 20th Mr. Perfect was having a private party at his house, mostly just close friends; being his girlfriend, the BitchGirl was invited. That morning we had hung out, watching some cartoons before Miss Pink showed up in the early afternoon. I took the hints she dropped and left, so she could help the BitchGirl get ready for the party. We had talked a little in the morning; apparently she was getting concerned about how much time he spent with all his female friends. My advice to her was to mention it to him, maybe talk about it if it really concerned her. She smiled and said she would, when she got a chance to be alone with him at the party. If she talked to Miss Pink about it she might decided otherwise. It wasn’t a secret that Miss Pink wasn’t exactly the most communicative in relationships, leaving ‘fuck you’ notes to bad boyfriends in the language of cheating, filming it and handing it to the guy to watch on his birthday.

The BitchGirl was no slut though—her mother had imbued her with prudish ideals early on; most were weak and easily broken by Miss Pink’s friendship, but the deeper ones she clung to as her defining factor. It kept her from being one with the class of teen girls that can be only described as fuck meat--and while I knew she would definitely laugh at her friend’s suggestions, she probably wouldn’t take them seriously. In all likelihood, she’d probably end up doing nothing.

When she got to the party, she was happy and perky. She was wearing her favorite dress, and had her make up done neatly to match by her friend. She looked and felt good. Within minutes of arriving, just walking around the house and getting settled in, listening to the music and what-not, she could tell there was something odd. It was more than just the fact that more people were there than she had expected, this being a private party and all. She couldn’t put her finger on it. She dropped it, and headed in to the kitchen to get a soda, when she finally realized it: everyone at the party was female. Not one of Mr. Perfect’s male friends were there; they probably hadn’t even been invited.

It was then something occurred to her: while Mr. Perfect would often talk about his male friends, she had never seen him hanging out with a single one of them. Whenever he was with a friend, it was a female. Confused, she found her boyfriend, and he explained to her that they were all just friends, and that most of his male friends were on the soccer team, and they were out of state for a game. Another friend was sick, and yet another was at a funeral. He had an explanation for every last one.

She believed him.

The party went well for the first two hours, but after that the music suddenly stopped, and Mr. Perfect called everyone in to the basement for party games.

She didn’t tell me very much of what happened in the basement. When she finally came out and cried to me about it, it took her two hours just to say the little bits that I know. Mostly, she told me, she remembered that it was very dim, even for a party. When everyone was inside, Mr. Perfect shut the door. A few other girls turned on a few lights; the floor was covered in old dirty mattresses. Some of the girls were lying on them, naked, undressing each other and smiling and laughing.

She was scared. The girls told her that it was ok, that it was just a harmless party game. The BitchGirl turned to Mr. Perfect, and he explained to her that she was to be initiated into his harem. She put up no resistance as one of the girls undressed her.

She didn’t say much else, other than screaming about how violated she felt. She told me she was made to play some ‘games’, but she never elaborated on what they were. Frankly, I wouldn’t want to know.

The week afterwards was strange. The first few days she didn't go to school, she just shut herself up in her room. We lived on the same street, so I brought her the homework from our shared classes, like I used to do when she'd get sick. This time it was different. Her mom answered the door, took everything and just slammed it shut without saying a word. I don't think she knew anything though. She just always fought with her daughter. They have communication problems.

When she got back to school on Thursday, she acted completely normal, but Friday she didn't say anything, and she didn't hang out with anyone after school. Not even to Miss Pink. Saturday morning I went over to see what was going on. That's when she burst into tears and told me what I just told you. . . She said she hated him, that she was stupid and worthless for even liking him. She cursed herself, and cursed her mother. She raved about everything, from the incident the previous weekend, to how it drove her to hurt herself. Her mom walked in on the BitchGirl taking a sharp piece of glass to her wrists; she had heard the glass smash from downstairs. Apparently her daughter had thrown things around the room in a rage; there were still traces of this when I entered her room that morning. She was a mess.