His body shifts, a groan escaping his lips as his hand brushes against my back. I freeze with my body hanging halfway off the bed, my entire right side exposed to the draft breezing in through the open window. Only when Roman’s hand drops from my skin do I continue moving.
The second I’m successfully out of bed, I begin creeping over to the bedroom door, my finger over my lips in a shushing motion when Shadow’s little head nudges up, watching me with observant eyes as I sneak out of the room.
I don’t close the door all the way, not wanting the click to alert Roman to my absence.
Outside the hall, I take a deep breath and head for the bathroom, needing to splash some water on my face to stop the images of that painful night from playing behind my eyes.
Locking myself in the bathroom, I flip on the switch. The bulb flickers for a bit before one of the three lights burns out, bathing the room in warm beige tones rather than its usual blinding white.
I turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the stream. The ends of my brown thermal soak up the water that drips from my wrists as I splash the freezing water over my face. The icy liquid leaves pinpricks all over my skin, waking me in an instant.
Water drips into my mouth as I release a weighted sigh, their droplets hanging on the tips of my lashes when I raise my gaze to stare into the mirror.
It’s become a nightly ritual, me and the bathroom mirror. I don’t know why.
Maybe I just like seeing how far I’ve fallen.
I should be better.
But I’m only getting worse.
It’s because daddy’s not here to make you all better.
His spirit is like a virus, infecting my body until I slowly die from the inside out.
I stare at the apparition through the reflection in the mirror, my stomach clenching and folding into painful knots as I follow Gabriel’s moving hand to the growing erection in his jeans.
“Bend over,”he demands, slowly lowering his zipper.
I know this isn’t real; it’s a figment of my demented imagination running wild in front of me, but even though I know that, I find myself doing as he says, bending over the porcelain countertop until my ass sticks up in the air.
Just as he commands.
I watch through teary eyes as his hands move up toward my back.
The memory of his touch ghosts along my spine and I feel my flesh burn as his essence scrapes along my flesh, the pain so real and vivid, tears fall in heavy droplets into the sink.
“Please, don’t,” I whisper, paralyzed in fear as he begins to pull his punishing member out of his jeans.
“Please. Please!” my cries grow louder. I wish for nothing at this second but for this moment to end, and the universe answers. The bathroom door swings open, and Roman stands there, with apprehension, concern, and anger etched onto his face.
“Amira?” His voice is stern as he stares at my reflection in the mirror, my ass high in the air while tears stream down my face.
I don’t know what to say…
How can I possibly explain this moment without sounding like a fucking nut job?
“Amira? What the hell are you doing?” Roman asks again, stepping farther into the compact bathroom to stand by my side.
I return to my full height, glancing at the mirror to see if my father is still standing there. To my relief, he isn’t, and I’m once again in control of my surroundings.
“I just had to use the restroom,” I say, holding back the quivers in my voice as I begin moving toward the exit. Roman’s large, calloused hand grips my elbow, not enough to hurt but enough to leave its mark.
“Rom—”
“You were crying, saying, ‘don’t… please don’t.’”
I give my head a quick, firm shake, denying his accusations even though my heart begs for a release of these demons.
