Faltering Steps & Frantic Screams
Caitlyn was lost in the music, moving with the surge of bodies as the bass throbbed through her veins. She’d been dancing on her own for a moment, Vi momentarily out of sight behind a swirl of neon-lit dancers. Just as she threw her arms up, a voice sliced through the heavy pulse of the speakers.
“…princess—”
Her chest tightened at the word. She snapped her head around, searching for whoever had said it, hoping it was just her imagination. But then she spotted them: a trio, two men and a woman standing a little ways off. The girl already had her phone raised like she was recording, and as soon as Caitlyn looked at them, all three sets of eyes locked onto her.
Panic flickered through Cait’s drunken haze. Her sunglasses—where were her sunglasses? Fuck, they were on her head, weren’t they? Heart pounding, she fumbled to pull them down, swallowing hard. If she could just hide her face, maybe they’d let it go. Maybe she could melt into the crowd.
But even as she turned away, determined to lose herself in the throng of people, a rough hand closed around her wrist. She gasped as one of the men tugged her back, wrenching her off-balance. The last glimpse she had was of Vi and the others huddled around Powder, all of them laughing over something on her phone, oblivious to Cait’s plight.
Fear sparked along her spine. Please, no, she thought, struggling to twist free. The shriek building in her throat felt trapped beneath the deafening music. She tried to call out, but the guy’s grip only tightened, yanking her away from her spot and deeper into a pocket of the crowd.
His grip was firm enough to make her wince. “Don’t pretend to be shy. We’ve all seen what you’ve got under that shirt.”
Caitlyn’s heart stuttered in her chest. A wave of cold fear spread through her veins, battling the heat of the alcohol. She tried to twist away, but the second guy reached for her, fumbling at the hem of her top. “Yeah, c’mon,” he sneered, “no need to hide now. Show us the goods—That’s what you’re known for.”
She felt her stomach churn with a mixture of terror and shame. When did I take my glasses off? Her arms flailed, trying to swat them away without drawing attention, but the first man’s grip tightened on her wrist, yanking her forward. Lights glared from someone’s phone - not just a flashlight, but likely a camera - catching the corner of her eye. The last thing she wanted was a scene filmed for the world to see, yet here she was, trapped in the middle of one.
“Stop,” she managed to choke out, voice trembling. She pressed her eyes shut, praying she could just disappear. Her body tensed, powerless for a moment. The world seemed to close in on her. A strangled scream crawled up her throat, finally tearing out past her lips in a panicked call. “Vi!”
Another yank wrenched her sideways, sending her stumbling into one of the men. Their sour breath fanned across her face. “Acting all prim,” he jeered, “when we’ve all seen everything.”
Suddenly, a hand latched onto her free arm - smaller, quicker. She jerked around, heart hammering, only to see Ekko, eyes blazing, yanking her away from the man’s grip. Mylo was there too, grabbing at the second guy with a sneer of disgust. Between them, they pried Caitlyn loose.
She stumbled back, inhaling in shaky gulps. Through the pulsating crowd, a flash of pink hair hurtled into view. Vi. She bulldozed forward, fury tightening every muscle in her body, and swung at one of the men so hard he crumpled to the sticky ground. The other guy reeled, raising his hands defensively, but Vi advanced again, a storm in her eyes.
Somewhere behind them, Powder’s voice rang out over the roar of music, calling for them to go, now. She appeared at her side, her and Mylo both muscling through a gathering circle of onlookers. Phones and cameras lit up with harsh LED beams, capturing every second.
Caitlyn’s vision swam, adrenaline tangling with liquor. Cameras. They’re filming this, her mind screamed. Her heart jumped to her throat as her hands touched her face, making sure her sunglasses stayed on. This is it. I’m an idiot. I’m so stupid.
She turned and bolted, barely registering Powder’s hand guiding her out of the fray. Someone—Mylo?—pointed toward the distant glow of the portable toilets. Her legs lurched into motion on autopilot, Ekko right behind them, warning off anyone who got too close. She stumbled through the partial darkness, past the chemical stench, until she found a corner of relative solitude. Her stomach churned; she leaned over and retched, spitting out a sick mixture of bile and dread.
They let her breathe, huddled around her protectively. “Hey,” Powder said gently, Gripping Cait’s arm in the hope to pull her back to reality. “It’s okay.”
“How could I be so stupid?” Cait choked out between shaky breaths, tears threatening. “I shouldn’t—shouldn’t have come—”
Mylo hovered by the entrance, exchanging a worried look with Powder. “Claggor and Vi are dealing with it,” he muttered, less certain than he sounded.
-----------------------------------------------
The two men barely had time to register her presence before she threw a fierce punch at the first guy’s jaw, sending him staggering backward. The second opened his mouth to protest, but Vi’s elbow cracked across his cheek. He stumbled, clutching his face with a choked groan.
“*Don’t you ever*—” Vi snarled, advancing on them both. Her vision tunnelled with red-hot rage, adrenaline numbing her knuckles.
Claggor came barrelling up behind her, eyes wide. “Vi!” he shouted, grabbing her from behind just as she reeled her arm back for another swing. “Stop—it’s not worth it!”
She ignored him, trying to shove free. “They *touched* her,” Vi spat, trembling with a mix of protectiveness and fury.
Claggor tightened his grip, voice desperate. “Yes, and right now, she needs you.”
His words cut through the haze. Vi blinked, fists still clenched. Her anger flared one final time—she spat at the two groaning men, hissing “*Disgusting*” under her breath—then spun away, letting Claggor pull her back.
Mylo was waving them over, standing near a crumpled figure on the ground. Vi’s heart plummeted when she realized it was Caitlyn, trembling and tear-struck, leaning against Powder for support. Without thinking, Vi tore free from Claggor’s grip and sprinted across the open space.
She dropped to her knees beside Cait, cupping her tear-streaked face in gentle hands. “Cait—hey—Cait, talk to me,” she pleaded, voice tight with concern. “Are you hurt? What did they—”
Cait’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking up at Vi with relief and lingering fear. She shook her head, barely able to speak, pressing her palm over Vi’s hand. For a second, neither spoke; they just clung to each other amid the pounding bass and chaotic swirl of neon light.
Behind them, Claggor and Mylo hovered protectively, cutting off the stares of curious onlookers. Powder stood guard too, making sure no one else dared come closer. And though Vi’s fists still itched with residual anger, all that mattered now was the tearful girl in her arms. Vi pulled her into a tight hug without waiting for permission, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice thick, her anger shifting into protectiveness. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
Caitlyn didn’t argue—didn’t trust herself to speak. She just clung to Vi, her breath rattling in her chest, while images of flashing phone lights and sneering faces replayed in her head. What if this goes online? she thought, panic rising. What if it’s already out there? But for now, she was shaking too hard to do anything but hold on.
Powder glanced anxiously at the small knot of friends surrounding Caitlyn and Vi, then made a decision. “We should go,” she announced firmly, voice cutting through the muffled chaos of the still-throbbing music behind them.
Ekko returned just then, brandishing two plastic water bottles. “Got these,” he panted, handing them off—one to Caitlyn, one to Vi. Powder gave him a grateful nod before helping Cait to her feet. No one said much as they started pushing their way back toward the gates.
Caitlyn’s hand was trembling around her water bottle, but she didn’t reach for Vi’s. Vi noticed—of course she did—but she kept silent, stuffing her own hands into her pockets, walking just a step behind Cait, trying not to read too deeply into it.
The rest of the group formed a diamond around them—Powder up front, Mylo and Ekko on the sides, Claggor in the back, and Vi and Cait in the centre—like an improvised guard. Somewhere in her haze of shock and lingering fear, Cait felt a surge of gratitude. They were giving her space without leaving her vulnerable.
She choked out a soft, broken apology. “I’m… I’m sorry for ruining the night.”
Powder spun around, eyes flashing. “No,” she said sharply, pointing a finger at Cait. “You don’t apologise. Got it? The night’s not ruined. We can come to a million more raves, but—” She gestured at the group as if that said it all. “We can’t replace any one of us.”
Cait opened her mouth to protest. “But we’re missing the last part of Fred’s set—because of me,” she whispered, voice cracking with guilt.
Vi spoke up, her tone calm but resolute. “That doesn’t matter if you’re not safe.” She gave Cait the faintest of smiles.
Cait caught her eye, returning the look with a subtle nod, warmth flickering despite the tears drying on her cheeks. Neither said more, but that brief exchange felt like an anchor in the chaos.
They reached the van soon enough, neon lights behind them, desert night sky above. Vander stood by the open door; arms folded. His gaze jumped from each face to the next, taking in the tense shoulders, the tear tracks on Cait’s cheeks, the subdued anger in Vi’s expression. Wordlessly, he handed them each a new bottle of water—calm and comforting.
“Caitlyn, you okay?” he asked quietly, voice tinted with concern.
Her throat seized; she couldn’t bring herself to respond. Instead, she ducked her head and climbed into the back seat without a word. Vi swallowed hard, giving Vander a quick shake of her head, then leaned in close enough to murmur, “We’ll talk when we get home, yeah? Can we just… go now?”
Vander nodded, offering her a faint, fatherly smile of reassurance. The rest of the group piled into the van: Powder, Ekko, Mylo, and Claggor settling in wherever they could. Vi followed last, sliding onto the seat next to Cait. She hesitated - uncertain if Cait wanted space or comfort - until Caitlyn abruptly latched onto her, burying her face in the crook of Vi’s neck. Soft sobs shook her shoulders.
Vi’s arms came around her in an instant, stroking her hair gently. Her own heart thudded in her chest, a mess of guilt and protectiveness. Across the aisle, Mylo and Powder exchanged solemn looks, and upfront, Claggor murmured something low to Vander, likely a quick rundown of what happened.
Vander pulled the van onto the highway, occasionally flicking glances to the back in the rearview mirror. The rhythmic hum of the engine filled the silence. No one spoke. The night’s earlier excitement had drained away, replaced by a hush that felt both heavy and strangely unifying.
Vi cradled Cait as the other girl’s tears gradually eased, her own fingers trembling with the echoes of rage and regret. Powder stared out the window. Mylo leaned his forehead on the seat in front of him, and Ekko just sat, hands folded, brow furrowed. Claggor watched Vander’s face, quietly updating him every so often with a few more details until the van sped on, carrying them all away from the rave and toward the uncertain aftermath that awaited.
Caitlyn felt a chill of certainty: the fallout was coming - she just didn’t know how bad it would be.