The Biker's Rules
My brain, however, has already directed an entire tragic short film involving steam, tiled walls, and betrayal.
I try to rationalize. He was drunk. What if she took advantage of that?
But no matter how I twist it, there’s one hard line I know I won’t cross.
I can forgive brokenness. I can forgive fear. I can forgive damage.
I CAN NOT forgive cheating. Drunk or sober.
If he stuck his dick in another hole … I’m done.
Standing here now, my heart hammering, my entire pelvic floor clenched so tight it could crack diamonds, I wonder when the roles were reversed. He’s the reckless one, the fearless one — and I’m the one shaking in borrowed clothes, bracing for impact.