Another blink and there is blinding light. It paints my eyelids white and prickles like static electricity across my skin.
I keep my eyes closed. Opening them is too difficult, anyway. They’re heavy and I’m heavy. My limbs are weighted down, but I also feel like I’m floating.
Is this still from the orgasm I had in the closet? I shouldn’t have let Timofey touch me—not when he was so angry and I was so confused—but we are magnetic. We fit together like we were made for each other.
Then he pulled out and I turned around. I saw the way his fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles were white. Then I saw…nothing.
I wish you were dead.
My heart thumps in my chest. I invited him to do it.
Then get it over with. Kill me.
Did he try? Is that what’s happening? I’m in some bright white waitin
