"DON'T GET CAUGHT. DON'T GET CAUGHT. DON'T. FUCKING. GET. CAUGHT."
She chanted these words repeatedly, displaying reasons and visualising the aftermath of getting caught.
You'll be bonded. Restrained. Confined. With no freedom over yourself. Prayin...
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My mind felt clouded, as if I was slipping further into madness, lost in a chaos I could no longer control. If this was the rapture that so many women glorified, then it was nothing but a vile distortion—a suffocating heat that consumed and corrupted, leaving only revulsion in its wake.
But I was already lost to madness. I had grown up with insanity and toyed with abuse, they were my twisted playmates, the vile forces that had kept me alive up until now.
I wondered how many days had passed. My heat had faded, extinguished long ago. Vasileios was no longer looming over me, I was no longer naked, no longer sobbing pathetically. My body had stopped burning with the confusing fire of both revulsion and desire.
How much time had passed since then was a mystery to me, lost in the void of my own disillusionment. I no longer begged for him, no longer yearned for his touch. All that remained was a deep, gnawing self-disgust, a corrosive feeling that consumed me for having surrendered so completely.
What once had felt like a desperate need now seemed like a betrayal of myself, an unbearable reminder of the wanton, unguarded state I had allowed myself to fall into.
The room felt colder now, hollow, as if the echoes of my torment and wanton like consent had seeped into the walls, leaving behind only silence and the heavy weight of memories that refused to fade.
I knew he was still in this dark condo, perhaps watching me from a hidden vantage point or absorbed in some task I couldn’t see. Yet, the veins throbbing in my neck pulsed violently, as if they sensed his proximity, each beat a stark reminder of his closeness.
For some reason my ears were still ringing, my vision still blurred, and my body trembled uncontrollably.
I had been like this since my heat-
My heat.
It made my heart twist painfully.
I was an abnormal.
I wasn't supposed to have that phase in my life.
Why? Why did I have to go through something like that?
Why did women gushed about it as if it was the most beautiful phase of a woman's life?
I wondered if I was crying, as something wet trickled down my cheeks—or was it just my drool? Was I hungry or was I sad? Was I lost? Lost where? I couldn’t tell anymore. My senses betrayed me, lost in the chaos of exhaustion and emotion, and I couldn’t help but question if I even knew what I felt, or if feeling itself had become another foreign stranger in my fractured mind.
I raised my hand without knowing why, and a second later, my left cheek flared with heat. I wondered why it burned, but what consumed my thoughts more was why the pain kept growing—hotter, sharper, more relentless with each passing moment.
