My life

Candles?

I grabbed a plate, and the smell suddenly grew stronger. For a second, it felt like it wrapped around me, warm and heavy, and I had to stop walking. I told myself I was imagining it. That I was tired. Hungry. It had been a long, hot day, and my mind was probably playing tricks on me.

I chose something simple. Safe. A slice of pizza and a few french fries. Nothing that would make my father angry. Nothing that would draw attention. My stomach twisted as I placed the food on my plate, already rehearsing what I would say if he decided it was still too much.

I started walking back toward the table, eyes on the floor, when the smell hit me again. Stronger this time. Impossible to ignore. I slowed, then stopped altogether, my heart beginning to race. I turned slightly, scanning the room, trying to find the source.

I thought maybe it was a candle.

But there were no candles anywhere. Not a single one burning in the restaurant.

The smell wasn't coming from the food either. It was something else. Something clean. Something deep. It made my chest feel tight in a way I didn't understand.

Then I looked up.

That's when I saw him.

He was standing not far away, watching me. He was strikingly handsome in a way that didn't feel comforting. There was something intimidating about him, something sharp and unreadable. He looked dangerous, like someone you shouldn't meet alone or at all. My instinct screamed at me to look away, but I couldn't.

Our eyes met.

The world around me faded, the noise of the restaurant dulling like someone had turned the volume down. His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unblinking. I felt exposed, like he could see everything I tried so hard to hide.

And then his lips moved.

He didn't make a sound, but I could have sworn he said one word.

*Mine.*

My breath caught in my throat. My heart slammed against my ribs, panic crawling up my spine. I blinked, my grip tightening on the plate.

I must be crazy.

Who would ever say something like that to a stranger?

I forced myself to look away and kept walking, telling myself it meant nothing. That it was just my imagination. That I was exhausted and hungry and broken in ways that made my mind do strange things.

Still, the smell followed me.

And no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had just changed.

I made it back to the table and sat down, forcing myself to eat even though my stomach felt tight and wrong. Every bite felt too big, too heavy, like it might come back up if I swallowed too fast. I kept my eyes on my plate, counting the seconds, telling myself to just finish and it would be over.

Then something hard slammed into my leg.

I flinched and slowly looked up. My father's eyes met mine, cold, sharp, furious. The message was clear without a single word being spoken. I had done something wrong. And I would pay for it later.

When I was finished, he leaned toward me and quietly told me to go get another plate so I wouldn't look strange sitting there without food. His voice was calm, almost gentle, which made it worse. I understood immediately. I had to get the plate. I just wasn't allowed to eat it.

My chair scraped softly against the floor as I stood.

The walk felt longer than before. Every step felt heavy, like my body already knew what was coming. When I returned, my seat wasn't empty.

He was there.

My cousin looked up at me and smiled. Not a normal smile,something twisted, something knowing. The room seemed to tilt. Noise blurred into a dull hum as my stomach slowly turned over itself. I wanted to turn around. I wanted to disappear.

But I sat down.

The moment I did, he shifted closer. The space between us vanished. His hand came down on my bare leg, the skin exposed by the dress my father had forced me to wear. My breath caught painfully in my chest. Every muscle in my body locked in place.

He had never done this here before.
Never where anyone could see.

I tried to move away, inch by inch, barely daring to breathe. His fingers tightened instead. Nails pressed into my skin, sharp, intentional. A warning. I felt the sting, the pressure, the control.

Then his hand started to move. Slowly.Upward.

My thoughts scattered. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone else could hear it. Fear crawled up my spine, cold and suffocating. I knew exactly what he was trying to do, and the realization made my vision blur.

I turned my head toward him, forcing my voice to work. Forcing my lips to move. I said I needed to use the bathroom.

Time stretched.

For one terrifying second, he didn't move.

Then his hand slipped away.

I stood up on shaking legs and walked away, careful not to run, careful not to draw attention. The second I was out of my family's sight, everything inside me broke. Tears spilled over, hot and uncontrollable, my chest aching as I fought to keep from making a sound.

I rushed down the hallway, barely seeing through the blur in my eyes. My hands trembled. My breath came in short, uneven gasps. I didn't even realize I had reached the bathroom until the door was already closing behind me.