I scrubbed the sweat and his heart off me. My skin was raw, but I couldn’t stop. The water was scalding, almost unbearable, but it didn’t matter. It could never be hot enough to burn away what he’d left on me. I hated how his scent still clung to me, the disgusting yet rich aroma of cigars and something that exclusively belonged to him.
The insatiable man didn’t stop. Not even when I begged or when the room was spinning and my vision blurred at the edges from exhaustion.
I could barely keep my eyes open, but the adrenaline kept me going, the haunting realisation he wouldn’t stop even if I lost consciousness.
I trembled as I sank deeper into the tub, the water raised to my chin but the heat did nothing to soothe the ache that settled in my bones. My fingers trembled as I rubbed the soap
