Submerge

S C R A T C H E S

I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break through my chest. The room was dark and quiet, but the nightmare still clung to me—too vivid, too real. Marco's hands, Jacob's cruel smirk... I could still feel them on me. Every part of my skin seemed to burn under an invisible weight, as if their touch was seared into me.

I blinked, trying to calm my breath, but the air felt thick and suffocating. Beside me, Ethan was asleep, his arm draped loosely across my waist. His warmth should have been comforting, but instead, it only heightened the sense of disgust twisting in my gut. 

How could I have let him touch me? How could I let anyone touch me after... after them?

The thoughts spiraled quickly, crashing down on me like waves in a storm. 

I felt dirty. Filthy. Used.

I carefully lifted Ethan's arm and slid out of bed, my body trembling as I tiptoed to the bathroom. The floor felt cold against my bare feet, a small comfort in the overwhelming rush of shame and loathing that gnawed at my insides.

In the bathroom, I flipped on the light, blinking against the harsh brightness. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, and I barely recognized the person looking back. My skin looked pale, my eyes hollow. I could still see them. The way Marco had pulled me close, the way Jacob had laughed, the things they had said. It felt like they had branded me, left their mark on me, and I couldn't escape it.

A sudden wave of nausea hit me, and I turned away from the mirror, my hands trembling as I turned on the shower. The sound of the water rushing from the faucet filled the room, drowning out the ugly thoughts swirling in my head, but it wasn't enough.

I stepped into the shower, barely waiting for the water to warm up. It hit my skin like needles, but I didn't care. I grabbed the bar of soap and started scrubbing. Hard. Rubbing it over my arms, my chest, my legs—anywhere their hands had touched. But it wasn't enough. The memories wouldn't wash away. The filth wouldn't come off.

I pressed my nails into my skin, scratching until my skin turned red. But even then, the feeling wouldn't leave. I could still feel them. I could still hear Marco's voice, Jacob's laughter, the way they had taken everything from me and left me hollow inside.

The water pounded against my back, but it felt like it was miles away. I stood there, scrubbing, rubbing my skin raw, tears mixing with the water as it streamed down my face. Hours seemed to pass, the steam filling the room as I stayed under the relentless spray, my mind unable to shut off the barrage of self-loathing thoughts.

Slut.

The word echoed in my head, over and over again, like a broken record. How could I let this happen to me? How could I even pretend I was worthy of someone like Ethan?

I sank to the floor of the shower, hugging my knees to my chest as the water continued to pour down on me. My skin felt raw, red, and scratched, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

I wanted to feel clean, but no matter how hard I tried, the dirt and shame stayed. I couldn't escape it. I couldn't escape them.

And now Ethan had seen me, touched me, loved me—and I felt like I had ruined everything.

I don't know how long I sat there, my skin raw and burning from the scalding water. The sound of it pouring down was the only thing grounding me, the only thing keeping the memories from completely swallowing me whole. My fingers trembled, my body shaking as the tears continued to fall, mixing with the water at my feet.

But eventually, I heard something. A soft creak from outside the bathroom—Ethan shifting in the bed. 

It made me freeze, my heart pounding even harder. I had been so lost in my own head, I hadn't even considered that he might wake up and notice I was gone.