The Night She Stopped Lying to Herself

I lay in bed long after the call ended, the phone still pressed to my ear as if I needed proof he had actually spoken to me like that. The room around me was dark and too quiet, yet I could still hear Damien’s voice like it was inside my chest. “You know where to find me.” “Do you want my mouth on you.” “Say it.” Every word struck somewhere low and humiliating. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shake it off, but it pulled at me in waves… slow at first, then stronger, sharper, sinking into the parts of me I had spent years keeping numb. I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket up even though the room wasn’t cold. My body felt too warm. Too aware. My fingers found themselves between my thighs, circling my inner thigh, and the pressure made something inside me twist in a way that made it hard to breathe. I whispered into the pillow, “Stop… please just stop…” But it wasn’t my body I was telling. It was my mind. And neither listened. The heat only grew, curling deeper under my skin, tigh