Marcus is lying next to me, panting heavily. He turns to face me and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.
"You're getting better at pleasing me," he says before rolling over and falling asleep just as fast.
I stare at the ceiling, feeling numb and empty. I touch my cheeks. Even after sex with Marcus, I am no longer crying, as if my body has become too used to it already. I don't even know how many days or weeks have passed.
When the morning comes, I remove Marcus' arms on me and get out of bed. I make my way to the tub of cold water, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. I can't bear to see the broken shell of a person staring back at me.
