15

DAHLIA After what I went through, I should’ve buried my face under the covers and hid there the rest of the night. And I tried that. Thankfully, when I got back at one in the morning, Megan wasn’t home yet. It’s not unusual for her to spend the night with her friends or just stay out partying. I had a shower in which I scrubbed my skin until it turned red, then slipped under the duvet on my stomach because my ass burns with every move. Whenever I close my eyes, images of my parents’ accident and the rough, merciless sex invade my head. Shame and disgust prickle my skin with renewed intensity, so I jump back into the shower. Under the scalding hot water, I rub my skin with enough force that new bruises join the existing sex bruises. How the hell did I come by being used like that? By that demon? Am I sick? Part of me wants to hate it to its core, consider it assault even if I agreed to it. That part, probably some form of defense mechanism, whispers that I wasn’t given a choice. That I