Ricci
Windows of Regret.
I stared blankly at the bar counter, the memories of what just happened dazzling and replaying in my head. I held onto the wine bottle and downed quite a gulp of it. I had forced myself on her, and that truth glared at me plainly, not taking its eyes off me.
The manner she refused was almost polite, but I got confused by lustful desire and would not even ask why she refused. From where I scooped her off her feet, and she fought back, I ought to give up, but no, I did the wrong. Throwing her to the bed and forcing my way on her was a terrifying horror that lingered in my head even two hours after what happened.
“You shouldn't have done that.”
No attention. I tried to focus on work, worked out since all I heard were screams that carried tears as it broke even up
