He had left no discernable marks. I turned on the cold water and plugged the orange-stained sink. When it had finally filled, I plunged my head into its frigid sanctuary and soaked it there until I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I then pulled my face back up, in a little less pain and slightly more refreshed, grabbed a washcloth from the vanity and soaked it in the water. I rubbed the cool wet cloth along my neck as I leaned on the basin with my left hand and sighed. ‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ croaked a voice from behind me. I turned, wincing in pain as I did so. He lay in the tub with several empty bottles of prescription medications around him and a half-gone liter of water crooked under his arm. His eyes were dull and his skin pallor almost matched the dirty gray of the porcelain beneath him. I bent over and picked up a med bottle. Phenobarbital. That’s right, I thought to myself, she had said he was an epileptic! I counted the bottles, all empty. He’d taken close to 120. She was mentally kicking herself for her choice of undergarments. When she had been getting ready with her friends, wanting to feel sexy, she chose to wear lacey, almost see-through items. The black lace bra left nothing to the imagination, the design of it barely concealing her areolas and nipples. She felt Alex’s hands on her breasts, squeezing them gently, his thumbs pressing over her nipples, making them grow harder. ‘Fuck, stop,’ Meeka thought to herself, begging her body not to respond to his touch in the way it was. No one had ever touched her like this and she hated that it actually felt good. The most intimate she had ever been with someone was when her high school boyfriend grabbed her through her shirt, and he definitely wasn’t gentle about it. She felt Alex’s hot breath in her ear as he leaned in towards her and whispered, “I can tell you’re enjoying this.”Tears leaked out of Meeka’s closed eyes and she felt the cold steel of the scissors on her skin again, slipping their.
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