Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

What did he see?
I spaced off, feeling the hairs on my arms stand up and my
skin harden like armor as I felt him, and anger and violence
swirled in my gut, because I wanted to tear at him and hurt
him and prove to him that I wasn’t scared yet.
That I was going fucking mad, but I wasn’t a baby.
What would he see when he looked at me right now?
My watery eyes, trembling hands, and huddled form?
Or did he see that I was alone? That I was naked, wet, and
alone for so long?
So long.
I took the sponge and soaked it with water, squeezing it
down over my bent knees and letting it fall down my legs over
and over again. Then I did the same thing to my neck, moving
my hair to one side and letting hot water run down my back.
Moving the sponge to the front of my neck, I tipped my
head back, straightened my spine, and sat up tall, squeezing
the water out, while letting my legs fall cross-legged and away
from my body so the water could cascade down over my
breasts and stomach. It caressed me, the warmth feeling so
good, and I panted as I did it over and over again, rubbing the
sponge down my neck.
And in your bed tonight, when it’s late and dark, and the
rest of the house is quiet…you’re pissed and angry, because
you think you hate me, but you slip a hand under the covers
anyway, because no one will be the wiser if you indulge
yourself in the memory of me…
I laid back, still only an inch of water under me, because I
hadn’t plugged the tub yet, and slowly ran the sponge down
my torso, between my breasts, and down my tummy, nearly
reaching my panty line.
Tears sprang up behind my closed lids, but I wasn’t sad.
Every inch of my skin buzzed with heat—with wanting
something to happen, anything to happen—as long as I could