Teeth Marks
I stand at my bathroom sink, legs shaking and sore, and stare at myself in the mirror. Dried cum staining my cheeks and jaw. My lips dry and red from him forcing his cock past them. Lower, nail marks slice along my stomach, my hips, stinging my back. I hurt. God, how I hurt. He was too drunk, too rough, and with no preparation, it was too much for me. But why bother with protection? Why worry about my comfort?
I'm just a whore, right? That's what he implied all fucking night. That I've got plenty of practice, that I'm just a cock-sucking, cum-drinking, fuck-hungry slut.
Maybe that's all I've ever been.
But even that doesn't hurt the most. Not even the words, the insults, some in a language that I can't even comprehend...they're echoing off the bathroom tile, but they aren't hurting the most. Not the scratches. Not the fact that my ass feels like he fucked me with sandpaper.
I trace a fingertip along my collarbone. Dried blood clotted over two curved marks. Teethmarks. Nikolai's teeth. And that is what hurts the most. Because they've obscured the mark that Evan left me with.
My throat tightens, my vision blurring with tears, and I look down. I can't bear to see my own reflection. He used me. I fucking let him use me. Like a goddamned slut, I just opened my mouth and spread my legs and let him do as he pleased. I fucking invited him into my home, knowing he was drunk, practically inviting him to use me as his toy for the night. I fell for all the stupid fucking lies. I even undressed him. I fucking took his clothes off so he could have his way with me. And he did. Whatever he wanted, I allowed. I guess that doesn't make me any better than any other whore.
I stumbled into the shower, letting the water scald my back, the scrapes his nails left stinging even more violently. I let the shower run over my face, washing it clean once, twice, a third time, rinsing my mouth to get rid of the taste of him. I try cleaning him from my body, but my skin just crawls, remembering his hands on me, his cock inside me. I turn the water hotter, wincing, trying to use heat to kill the memories. I let it beat on my body until I can't stand the hot water any longer, and I turn off the faucet, walking naked back to the mirror, no cares for the puddles I'm leaving on the tile.
My skin is pink from the heat of the shower, my eyes bloodshot with tears. But the cum is gone from my face, the dried blood washed away from my collarbone. But the marks are still there. Two perfect lines of teeth, marring my skin, nearly obliterating the marks from Evan.
I sink to the floor, crying, my legs pulled up to my chest.
Those marks were all I had left.
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