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I slammed open the bedroom door and took off all of my clothes before running to the bathroom. I didn't even care to flick the lights on as I moved closer to the bathtub.
I fill the bathtub, the water nearly overflowed as steam surged from the scalding water. I step inside, and the hot water burned my skin, into my wound but I didn't care. The burn felt like it was washing away their hands, their touch. I clenched my jaw to distract myself from the burn.
This is good. It will wash their hands off me. It will wash off their touch.
I squirt a good amount of body wash on the loofah and started to scrub. I scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, the blistering water scorching my skin. The cuts that had turned into scabs got ripped once more, bleeding out. The dull ache in my stomach intensified, it hurt to even clench my teeth. Their laughing faces flashed before my eyes. I remembered the way their bodies smelled, their breath smelled. It just made me scrub more violently.
Their every single insult, their degrading remarks, and their dirty words resonated in my mind. I wanted to wash it all off, off my body, off my brain.
Every time they laughed.
Every time they forced their hands in my pants.
Every time they groped my chest.
The resentment and the pain, the helplessness all crept up at once making me lose control.
I winced every time I touched a swollen bone, a bruise, or a cut but I didn't stop. This physical pain was nothing compared to the mental pain I was feeling.
The world around me disappeared. A fog formed all around me. My insides twisted with hate, I wanted to kill them, hurt them the way they did to me. I wanted them to feel as helpless as I did. I want them to beg at my feet for mercy. I want them to feel violated. I wanted them to feel exploited.
Rage.
That's all I could feel.
I was so lost in my own world, that I didn't hear the heavy footsteps, I couldn't feel someone's presence behind me.
Someone flicked the light switch on and I was startled out of my nightmare. My hands stopped scrubbing, I clutched the loofah like my life depended on it.
They walked up to me, the footsteps. I felt someone standing right behind me. My back was facing them. I didn't turn, I didn't bother to check who it was. I resumed scrubbing my already reddened skin again.
"Evangeline?"
His voice, so close, whispering my name. I stilled for a second again then snapped out of it as I continued to scrub. I continued to scrape their touch off my skin. He crouched down beside the tub, I didn't look at him. I didn't say a word. My heavy breathing and the running water resonated all around me.
"I told you, you shouldn't have taken a shower, your wounds—" he let out a defeated breath as he seemed to have given up.
Then his hand came around me and adjusted the water temperature. My eyes followed his hands and resentment burned hotter inside of me.
