Kimberly
I lay there in the dim, suffocating quiet, staring at the canopy of the massive bed that had always felt more like a cage than a sanctuary.
My body was still, yet my mind churned with relentless anguish. The sheets were tangled around me, heavy with the scent of him, a reminder of what had just happened.
Kendrick was gone, of course. He always left once he was done, leaving me to piece myself back together, to grapple with the hollowness he left behind.
I could still feel the heat of his touch on my skin, the force of his weight pinning me down, claiming me in a way that made me feel like nothing.
I was his wife. And yet, I felt like no more than a bedmaid, an object to ease his urges, to fulfill his needs without question.
The tears came before I could stop them, hot and
