Mira’s POV:
I lay there for what felt like hours.
Frozen.
Terrified.
What if he came back?
I felt numb — but somehow, I could still feel him.
His hands. His weight.
The disgust.
It replayed again and again, like a sick loop I couldn’t escape.
I had to get up.
I had to scrub it off.
Burn it off, if I had to.
I rolled onto my side, the silver chains clinking as I pulled free from where they’d dug into my wrists and ankles. My skin burned where the metal had sliced deep. Like acid eating away at me from the inside.
Nausea hit fast.
I sat up just in time to vomit over the side of the bed.
Tears streamed silently down my cheeks.
I had to wash.
The boys never let me.
But now? I didn’t care. Let them beat me for it. Kill me. Whatever.
I had to get him off of me.
Wrapped in my
