The bathroom was filled with steam. Hot water poured down over Katrina’s shoulders, over her hair and her trembling hands. But she couldn’t feel the warmth. All that she could feel was Paul’s breath against her skin. His hands gripping her, his lips brushing the back of her neck. Her stomach twisted violently. The water kept running and she grabbed the sponge with desperate energy. She scrubbed hard, her arm moving fast across her skin, to her shoulder, her neck, her collarbone, every part that he had touched. She scrubbed again, and again, and again while murmuring blindly. “I’m not dirty... I’m not dirty...” Her movements became frantic. Faster and rougher. The sponge dragged harshly against her skin, leaving angry red marks behind. Despite the heat burning, the friction burning, she didn’t stop. She scrubbed her neck where he had touched her. Over and over until her skin turned deep red, sensitive, almost raw. Even when her breathing grew uneven, as her hands trembled,
Read more