My body starts to shake, whether it’s from the rising panic or the rapidly cooling floor tiles beneath me, I’m not sure. Probably both. I’m still dripping after the shower, and the air around me grows chilly. My muscles cease up, and I can’t make myself stand to search for a towel. Enduring the strikes of his fists is easier than this. I wrap my arms around my naked form and rest my head on my knees.
I wish I had kept Alessandro’s coat. The idea of wrapping myself into it makes me feel a little less cold. I don’t know why I keep thinking about him. Living with Rocco has made me despise men in general.
When I daydream about the possibility of meeting someone new should I manage to escape my husband, a sick feeling forms in my throat. Before my life with Rocco, wondering about a partner
