Page 1 of All Hallows Mate (The Demon Spice Collection #4)

I run my hands down my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. I am dressed as a nurse, only the kind that would get her license taken away for fucking the patients. My jet black hair is loosely pulled back, but it’s all falling in curls down my back. It hangs most of the way to my waist.

I’m a slutty nurse for Halloween. Well, All Hallows Eve.

Why? Because that’s what is expected of me, right?

I am the campus whore, so I have to play the part.

I’d rather go as something practical, like a zombie or a monster of some sort.

Hell, I could do something realistically scary, like the demons in skin suits pretending to be people who care.

A lonely professor who wants to get his rocks off, so he corners students who no one will believe if they cry rape? Terrifying.

Okay, so maybe I’m projecting a bit, but you have to admit, reality is scarier than any fictional monster.

Also, why is Halloween used as a time for females to dress like hookers?

I mean, more power to you, babe, but it’s October.

You have got to be freezing your titties off in that outfit. I know I’m about to.

I am in my fourth year of college, and this is my last Halloween as a student.

I’m so ready to be done, but I’m also afraid of the unknown.

Will I find a job? Will that job have benefits?

Will my reputation here follow me into the job force?

I keep to myself unless someone forces me out of my bubble or invades my space.

I have friends, but they’re the kind that will disappear after graduation.

They only come to me when I can do something for them.

I have no one to confide in. I have no one I can trust with the darkest parts of my soul.

I don’t know why I’m going to this stupid party.

I know how it’s going to go, but I’m a masochist, apparently.

I am making myself a promise, though. No alcohol.

Every time I drink, pictures of me end up being passed around.

I end up spending the next few weeks being bullied or stalked by creeps.

No one can send around pictures of me naked and unconscious if I just don’t drink.

I tried that over the summer but took a drink from someone, so I ended up losing twelve hours of my life and my clothing.

Do you know how embarrassing it is to wake up alone and naked with no memories?

It’s awful. I still don’t know how I got those bruises. Somehow, I always make it back.

I step out of my dorm room, and my heels click against the tile floor as I make my way to the stairwell. “Lookin’ good, Tori!” a guy says as I pass him. I give him a half-forced smile as I hurry past him.

I have my phone—which also holds my ID and credit card—tucked into my bra. I can open my dorm through the app on my phone, so I don’t need anything else. I should probably bring a jacket, but I don’t plan on being out that late.

By the time I get down to the sidewalk, my ride is here. I both love and hate rideshare. It helps prevent drunk driving, but it’s annoying that I have to wait to get picked up. Sometimes I end up just walking back when I am functioning well enough.

I sit in silence and stare out of the window. The man driving glances back occasionally, but not so much that it makes me nervous. When we stop, I jump out and shut the door before he can say anything to me. I probably should have thanked him, but oh well.

The party tonight is at Makayla’s off-campus house.

Her dad owns the house and pays to have it cleaned up when college kids wreck it.

She is one of the few friends who doesn’t talk shit about me behind my back, or at least I don’t think she does.

I can’t ever tell because I can’t really trust most people.

I walk into the large house, and the party is in full swing. The music is loud, and the air is full of the scent of beer, sweat, and a hint of weed. There is more uncovered skin than covered, and I think the couple by the stairs might actually be fucking.

“Tori!” Makayla shouts as she nearly tackles me with a hug.

“Hey!” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can. No one likes a party pooper, so I just smile.

“Girl, you look hot as fuck,” she says. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Oh no,” I laugh. “I’m going to pass on the booze.”

“Noooo. Come on!” she says with a whiny voice. “One drink!”

“Girl, I have twelve hours of my life missing, and my favorite dress. Hell no,” I laugh, trying to brush off her pushiness.

“What can I do to convince you?” she asks with a dramatic pout. “You can’t let me drink alone!”

“Jesus. Fine,” I say. “One beer.”

“Yay!” she squeals and bounces over to the keg. I watch her talk to a few people before coming back over and shoving a drink into my hand. I didn’t see her pour this, so I know better now than to drink it. For all I know, someone is trying to drug her, and I will end up with the cup.

“I’m going to go mingle. Come find me after a while,” I say before walking away.

“Hey, Tori. Drinking already?” Tyler asks. Tyler is one of my many bullies who just won’t leave me alone. I roll my eyes and set my drink on the first surface I come to. When I try to step past him, he loops his arm around my waist and pulls me in front of him.

“Fuck off,” I deadpan.

“Oh, now don’t be like that,” Tyler laughs. Before he can get too focused on torturing me, I duck under his arm and make my escape. I get to the backyard before seeing anyone else I don’t loathe.

“Tori!” Kaitlyn slurs loudly. She is sitting in the hot tub with four other guys who look way more sober than she is.

“Hey. Come to the bathroom with me, girl,” I say as I grab her hand and pull her up.

“You don’t need help pissing,” one of the guys argues with a laugh.

“Don’t you know?” I ask seriously. “Girls travel in packs so we can change each other’s tampons.”

Kaitlyn giggles, and I hook my arm with hers before pulling her away. “Thank you,” she says with a sigh.

“You alright, Kate?” I ask, tugging her along with me.

“Ah. You know me,” she laughs, but she has sadness in her eyes. Kaitlyn and I don’t get along super well, but I don’t hate her. She’s just a giant bitch when she is sober. Seeing her like this makes me wonder if she has demons lurking, too.

“Want me to get you a ride back to your dorm?” I ask.

“Josh wanted to…”

“Girl, you are far too drunk to be hanging out with any of them,” I say.

“You weren’t,” she snaps.

I know she’s trying to be hateful. The last time I hung out with Josh, half the student body got a video of him throat fucking me when I was mostly unconscious.

The wild thing is, he has everyone convinced that I was wide awake and participating.

It seems so fucking obvious to me that I was too far out of it to be even close to consenting.

I didn’t even know that it happened until someone showed me the video.

I always do this to myself. I numb the pain with alcohol and put myself in risky situations with shitty people.

“You’re right,” I say, looping my arm around her waist so no one can pull her away from me. “That prick assaulted me when I passed out, and everyone was convinced I wanted it.”

“You did drink a lot that night,” she giggles.

“Hey, come play cards with us, Kaitlyn,” a guy shouts as we walk across the living room. “Let her come play with us, Tori. She doesn’t fuck chicks.”

I roll my eyes and flip him off as I get Kaitlyn on the front porch. She flops down on the wicker couch, and I sit next to her so I can pull up the rideshare app.

I cannot count how many times people around me have known that I was drunk and did nothing to help me.

I refuse to be that person. I don’t care if I fucking hate them; I’m not letting them sit around so that people can take advantage of them.

I know what that feeling is like the next morning.

The shame. The guilt. The jokes. Ha ha. So funny.

Tori got blackout drunk again, and someone fucked her.

Hilarious. Rape is just hilarious. If you ask the school officials, I should’ve known better than to be drinking.

The one time I tried to get help, campus police told me that maybe next time I won’t drink as much.

Truth be told, I’m putting myself in these positions knowing it’s risky.

Mom’s drug habit was often paid for at the expense of my body, so I learned from a young age that fighting back causes more pain.

The one time I did fight back, I was fourteen, and my best friend’s older brother decided to be so nice and take me home one evening.

He didn’t tell anyone that he took a detour, and I never told anyone that he held me down in his back seat.

When I turned up pregnant from it, I was crowned the class whore.

I sat alone in a procedure room and had an abortion with no one to hold my hand.

No one to hug me that night and tell me it wasn’t my fault.

All I could think about was him telling me that my skirt told him I wanted him to fuck me.

From there, I figured that if I am going to be called a whore, I may as well live up to it.

It’s not like I am the one to initiate anything, but I stopped fighting that night in his car.

“Wake up, Kate. Your ride is here,” I say. She groans as I pull her up to stand.

“I’m so tired,” she mutters.

“Just a little further,” I say. When we get to the car, I open the door and poke my head in.

“For Tori?” she asks.

“Uh. Yeah. It’s for my friend. She is very drunk and needs to get back to her dorm. If I tip you now, can you help her?”

“Absolutely,” she says. The woman is in her mid-forties, and she looks like a mom. The kind of mom I wish I had. She gets out and goes to her trunk to get a bag before coming around to us. I get her seated, and the lady gives Kaitlyn a bag. “If you get sick, honey, aim for the bag.”

“Mmmm,” Kaitlyn groans.

“Thank you so much,” I say. Do you have CashGo?” CashGo is essentially like an online bank where you can send money to people.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. You’re a good friend,” she says, patting my arm.

“Yeah,” I say with a simple smile. I don’t want to tell her that we aren’t actually friends because that detail doesn’t matter. I just care about her getting back safe. No one should be left so vulnerable.