I am lying in bed. It is late morning, approaching noon. The light from the sun is clear and warm through an open window, and the whole room is ignited in white.
As I roll over onto my side, I realize that I am not alone in my bed. I am greeted by the gentle curves of a woman’s body beside me. Her face is guarded by a wayward arm, but I know who it is. I take a moment to soak it in, to linger on the reality of this scene.
After a while, she wakes up. Our eyes meet, and she smiles. Arms entwined, we embrace each other, softly rubbing noses together as our faces move in and out of focus. It is then that we hear movement and voices outside of our room. I sit up, instantly alert and nervous about the situation at hand, but then I feel her soft touch on my back, and slowly fall back into the milky bedsheets.
We softly giggle as they move around, up and down the hall on the other side of the door. She puts her fingers to my lips with one hand, caressing me with another. I softly kiss her, slowly working m way down along the curves of her body.
As I reach her navel, I open my eyes to see a big, purple, blackened bruise. I look up to see her response, but she doesn’t notice, doesn’t react to my touch. She just lies there. More bruises appear along her side, her belly, and her legs. I caress her, but there is still no reaction. She just smiles down at me.
The door is shaking, loosening its hinges. Soon, it will fall open under heavy weight. I bring myself up to meet her gaze, and I kiss her strongly one last time.
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