I didn’t touch myself.
I thought about it until the thought hurt. I lay on top of the covers in the same skirt with my tank stuck to my skin and listened to the house perform family. Water in the pipes. Mom’s laugh. A door. Then quiet that was not empty, because I knew what quiet hid now.
Frank’s room had gone still.
I stared at my ceiling and saw him on all fours anyway. The moan. The wet at the corner of his eyes. Mark’s mouth saying I was dripping like it was a joke Frank could shut down if he just used the right voice.
A knock hit my door. Once. Soft.
Not Mom.
I sat up. My pulse went stupid.
Frank opened it without waiting. He had a hoodie on. Hair damp. Mouth set in the old arrogance, except his eyes were not old. They were raw. He shut us in and stood there like my bedroom was
