Wet Confessions
But the other half, oh God, the other half wanted to burn alive in the fire he lit in me.
Because the truth was, my body didn’t recoil. It didn’t hesitate. It answered.
I wasn’t prepared for how deep the betrayal would feel, not his betrayal of me, but mine of myself.
Now, every time I close my eyes, I don’t just see him. Don’t just feel his touch. I hear it again. That jagged rip. Not of the lace of me. The moment restraint shredded into hunger. The moment innocence surrendered to something darker.
And I don’t know what’s worse
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