And… now I’m digging myself an even bigger hole by fantasizing in vivid detail.
My ears heat, acclimating to the ferocious rhythm that’s causing my skin to slicken even more. I squeeze the cold can, tracking the extra touch drifting around my waist. “I’ll remember.”
“All by yourself?”
“By myself,” I nod.
He hums thoughtfully, forming his giant, dirty hand around mine. “Well…” Pinning my palm to the can, he ushers it to my mouth, slowly skating his other fingers up my navel. “If you ever need help with anything, you let me know.”
My lips mold to the lip of the can, taking the small drink he wants me to take. The carbonation is more intense this time, trying to swallow the burn when my insides are already steaming.
“What… would I need help with?” Looking out the corner of my eye, I meet his dark yearn shadowed by his messy hair.
“I’ll let you decide that, little bunny.” Smirking, his touch fades away and he straightens to his height, devouring me with his eyes while backing up.
His glazed abs roll with each step, his hand coming over his waist to grip the extra fabric folded over his… dick.
“I’ll be waking you up for practice,” he smiles, grabbing the doorknob and pausing to finish being a glutton of obscenity. “I hope you sleep good. I’m gonna wear you out tomorrow.”
I probably look like an impressionable teenager seeing a suggestive denim advertisement right now.
My vise-grip on the soda can has it denting and popping at chest level, and I’m fully facing him with a loose jaw, not even attempting to tame the visible effect he’s beginning to have on me.
He winks, then slips out the door, leaving me whimpering to myself.
I’m supposed to be avoiding him. But that feels like removing pain from pleasure, like I’d be missing out on the one thing that reminds me I’m not hopeless.
Morning dew smatters my ankles, walking through the grass with the last bit of moonlight reflecting off the only precipitation we receive here.
There’s a faint chill this morning. It’s scattering down my spine, causing me to fold my arms over my chest while passing through the tunneled clearing of trees toward our gate.
I got myself up. Well, I didn’t really sleep, so I kind of just rolled out of bed when it felt right, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and ate some dry cereal, all in the company of my own voice.
Razor’s messing me up.
As much as he forces me to get nose to nose with things that make me uncomfortable and is helping me learn how to stand strong, he’s disheveling the perspective that makes me long for life outside ofVore.
I deserve more. And if that’s not possible, if digging up the dirt that was thrown over the life I was living prior to my memory wipe—I don’t want to be alive at all.
I don’t want to be consumed here.
It feels like I didn’t even get to enjoy my few hours of freedom yesterday because I was just chronically thinking about the lies I’m fed, the secrecy that weighs the air heavy, and how badly I want to grab Razor’s face and kiss him for the taste of someone else’s poison.
You see why I’m up before the sun and walking alone with the moon?
I’m plagued with a voice I no longer want to hear. But at least it’s always honest.
With me. It’s honest withme.
It’s relatively eerie when the only shoes thunking off the pavement are my own. There’s opaque fog that slithers around corners and weaves through closed tents and shutdown rides, making the kenopsia that much more unsettling.
Honestly, I think the worst part is how silent the shadows are. The poppy tune that plays through the speakers kicks on at seven on the dot, and it’s always a jarring jump scare. It triggers a rush of fear, sinks me into my head, and I go right back to the living room where the lies began.
I huff, catching my passing reflection in the closed windows of the strip of shops. Carl is a businessman. He’s always looking for any opportunity to stuff his pockets. Yet the conjoined stone needs power washed, and all the window clings are cracked.
Sweeping over the neglect, a sudden feeling of not being alone cools my veins, spiking ice up into my face and alerting my ears to hear past the crunches beneath my own feet.
I keep watch on my reflection, curling my cold arms tighter across my chest, and the casual, slow thuds of heavy boots behind me strips the moisture right from my mouth.
