Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

My throat swelled with the vomit rising, and my shoulders
slumped as I tried to turn inward, making myself as small as
possible. It was an old feeling, but one I knew well. It made
me hide in the fountain. In the maze. In showers and in closets,
because if no one saw me, they wouldn’t see the shame.
She’s gone, I told myself. She’ll never take from me again.
No one does.
But looking back over the years, I realized now it started
long before that night. She took me into the shower with her
long after I was able to take them on my own. She washed me
and dried me and stayed in the room when I dressed and
undressed.
And after months of doing everything she could with her
hands and mouth, she finally came to my room one night
and…
I used to brag I had my first woman at twelve, reveling in
how other guys either thought I was lying or I was so lucky,
because of all the whores my father kept around the house. But
I always told the truth.
My father had to know what was going on. In his head,
though, it made me a man.
And it wasn’t like he was against raping children, either.
Considering how young my mother had been when they met.
I rinsed and shut off the water, grabbing a towel and drying
off. I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out of the
shower, walking to the mirror and wiping the condensation off.
I stared at my dark eyes, a little darker than hers, and the
same black hair. A shadow lay on my jaw, and I picked up my
straight razor, running it under the faucet to make sure it was
clean.
What did Winter feel when she thought about me? Was the
anger so thick that was all there was?
He asked her to dance for him.
He asked her to dance like I’d asked Winter to dance for
me.