Night settled over the campus like a held breath.
I sat on the narrow windowsill of the hostel room with my knees drawn up and the glass cold against my shoulder, watching the snow thicken under the yellow courtyard lights. The bruises on my hips had faded to dull shadows, but the places deeper than skin still burned whenever I shifted. Four days. Four days since he had taken me against the glass and then ordered me to leave like the act itself had been nothing more than a temporary failure of control.
I still felt him.
That was the part I could not scrub out. Not with scalding water. Not with longer hours on the ice. Not with the clean, sharp hatred I kept trying to rebuild every morning. My body remembered the exact stretch of him, the ruthless depth, the broken sound that had left hi
