𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 : 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

|79|•ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ?•

I woke up with a shiver. Not from the cold—
but from the silence.

No blankets.
No clothes.
Just my skin against the leather of the sofa.
Bare.
Exposed.
Alone.

I didn’t even move at first.
Just lay there…
curled like a ball.

Trying to breathe.
Trying to exist.
Trying not to remember.

My eyes opened slowly, burning.

I stared at the ceiling.

It was so cold.

Empty.

Nothing.

Just like me.

I didn’t want to move, but my body ached.
From the inside out.

I shifted slightly, and the cool air kissed my skin—my bare skin—reminding me of what happened.

My eyes dropped down.
To the bruises.
To the redness.
To the marks he left behind.

Did I have sex with him last night?

Of course I did.

I remembered the heat.
The roughness.
His touch.
His breath against my neck.
The way I cried and yet let him continue.

And still—

There was something else lingering in my chest.

Guilt.

A tight, twisting kind of guilt that clawed at my ribs.
Which I shouldn't have felt.
I should have been angry.
I should have screamed louder.
I should have hated him.

But instead…

I made him believe he raped me.

And God—

The look in his eyes when I said those words.

Like I took a knife and carved it into his chest.

He… stood there.

Bleeding without blood.

And I watched him fall apart while standing still.

Because I wanted him to feel helpless.
I wanted him to feel the powerlessness I felt so many times.

But now…

Now I don’t know who I hate more.

Him… or myself.

I didn’t sit up.
I didn’t even blink.

I just… lay there.
Curled like a child.
Naked.
Silent.
Still.

The morning light poured in through the curtains, soft and golden. But it didn’t touch me.
I felt cold. Empty.

My heart beat, but I wished it didn’t.
Because every beat reminded me of what I did.
What I said.
What I made him believe.