NICOLE
I just sit there, staring at the food. I don't even see it. My mind is somewhere else, replaying it all in broken, painful pieces.
This isn't how it was supposed to be. The thought is a dull ache, deeper than the one between my legs. I always thought… I don't know what I thought. Something gentle. Something wanted. Not this. Not being held down and torn open. Not the sting of his hand on my mouth, the coppery taste of my own blood.
A sharp throb pulses through me, a constant, humiliating reminder. I shift on the couch and wince. Everything hurts. My hips feel bruised. My thighs are stiff. I can still feel the ghost of his grip. I want to cry, but the tears won't come anymore. I'm just… hollowed out.
And then, the worst thought of all slithers in.
But it also felt good.
