My life

Warm water and cold thoughts

GENEVIEVE'S POV

I wake up warm. 

Not just warm, comfortable. Calm. 

The realization startles me more than fear ever could. I don't wake up like this. I haven't in years. My body is usually tight, braced for pain before my eyes even open. But right now, I feel... held. Safe. 

That's when it hits me. 

Someone is behind me. Arms wrapped around my waist, solid and steady, like they're anchoring me in place. Panic flares instantly. I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs as I slowly turn over. 

It isn't my cousin. 

It's him. 
The man from the restaurant. 

Confusion crashes into me so hard it makes my head spin. I should be terrified. I should be fighting. Instead, there's a strange, unfamiliar sense of safety curling in my chest. 

I don't trust it. 

I try to sit up, but his arms are still around me, not tight, not trapping. Just there. Did he hurt me too? Is this just another version of the same nightmare? 

I don't remember much. Everything after the hotel room is blurred, like my mind locked it away. But my body remembers. There's pain between my legs, deep and aching, enough to make my stomach twist. 

A small sound slips out of me before I can stop it. 

He wakes immediately. 

Fear crashes over me. I'm sure this is when it changes, when he becomes like the rest of them. I brace myself. 

Instead, he smiles. 

"Good morning," he says softly. 

The kindness in his voice doesn't make sense. It makes my chest ache. I don't know why he's being nice. I don't know why he's looking at me like I matter. 

"I need to use the bathroom," I whisper. 

He lets me go without hesitation. 

I rush inside and lock the door, sliding down against it as my thoughts spiral. 

What do I do? 
How do I leave? 
What if he won't let me? 
What if my dad gave me to him? 

The questions pile up until I feel dizzy. I need to ground myself. I decide on a bath, hoping the warm water will slow my thoughts. 

As I look around the bathroom, I notice it's clearly his. Men's toiletries line the counter. A small travel bag sits near the sink. I open it, searching for soap, shampoo, anything familiar. 

That's when I see it. 

A razor blade, tucked into the bag, ordinary and unassuming. 

My chest tightens. I stare at it longer than I should. I don't know what I plan to do at first. I only know I don't want to feel like this anymore. 

The bathwater is warm, almost too warm. It makes my limbs feel heavy, my thoughts hazy. I tell myself not to fall asleep. I know better. 

I think about all the times I was told to endure. To stay quiet. To survive. 

I don't feel strong right now. I feel exhausted. 

Then I hear it, the door handle rattling. 

Panic surges through me, sharp and familiar. My heart pounds as my thoughts turn dark and cruel. He's going to hurt me. That's what always happens. 

I curl inward, shaking, bracing myself for pain, because in my world, kindness never lasts.