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A single finger slowly traces the curvature of oose bu to be asleep, I treht touch, unable to contain my reaction

My breath hitches

Why must he do this to me?

I hate myself for it, almost as much as I hate him And I hate hi or someone so much in my life before I hate his hair, his smile, his eyes I hate the words he says to s he does, the man he is I hate the way he treats me, the way he affects me, the way his hands inflict the worst kind of pain before so a fire withinwith the purest agony

I hate it

I hate it

I fucking hate it

Once he reaches the s a line along the waistband of , like he's expertly kindling a fire, one only he kno to stroke

I want to douseaway in the flas, but I know it's useless Even as a pile of ashes, I'd never get away He's a force of nature The ould carry ht back to him

The air feels thick, like it's filled with the blackest s with every muscle in my body I want to scream I want to pull away

I want to run away

But I don't, because I know he'll just catch me if I do

He did it before

He'll do it again

I keepmyself not to feel it It doesn't exist, I tellhtmare?

He's not really touching me

Except he is I know he is Every traitorous cell insidesparking like live wires If this isn't real, nothing is

I almost wonder if that would be preferable

His finger reaches the nape of er Five, ten, fifteen I count the seconds into think ahead, as if this is a game of chess and I can plan a counter-attack

It's pointless, even wondering He's already capturedCheckmate

Onceit halfway down before deviating It explores the rest ofpatterns alongcanvas and he's an artist

Despite ets the best ofIt feels rando he does is for a reason There's alwaysbehind every word, a point to his actions

And it's usually never good

I squeezeto er, as it seetoa love letter, swearing to do better?

Or maybe it's more like a ransom note