He twirled me around once, then twice. The third time, he lifted me, but he was able to put me down. Unlike the fourth time. The only thing I remember is him lifting me over his head, and then it was darkness. He fucking dumped me on the ice because he was too drunk to be able to hold me.” My breath hitches as I dig my nails into my palms. “It was my fault. I let him do it knowing how drunk he was. I knew the risks, and I still went for it. He couldn’t hold me; he dropped me on the ice, and then he fucking left me. He got scared because I lost consciousness. He couldn’t wake me, so he left me
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