“I love you, you know that right?”, he says.
A cold clammy dread travels up my veins as I feel his calloused hands dig into my skin. But it does not reach my face. Never my face. Just for a little while I feel him press down harder. And then a dispassionate calm settles over me. The room takes on a shade of grey. The fan plays a soothing lullaby. From a distant realm a hollow voice drifts in, “I love you too”. But that’s not me. It can’t be me. I’m not here. This body is not mine.


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