Page 22 of Cross the Line
The slam of the bathroom door behind me ricochets off the tiles when I throw myself in front of the toilet and continue vomiting until there’s nothing left.
Exhaustion settles in, thick and fast. Even if I wanted to move, I wouldn’t be able to. Everything weighs a ton. Closing my eyes, I tell myself I only need a second. One moment. A couple minutes…
When I wake up, my head is spinning, and my mouth is so dry that I can’t clear my throat properly. The acrid smell of sickness closes the air.
I thought I’d feel better if I rested my head…. I don’t. My stomach is still roiling, and my brain is lagging as I look about the bathroom, trying to figure out what to do. How to get myself up.
I curl up onto forearms and knees, resting my head on the cool tile floor before I use the rim of the toilet to brace myself up onto my knees and then my feet.
The soured smell lingers, even after I’ve flushed the toilet and washed my hands and face. It’s in my pores and sticky on my clothes.
Maybe a shower is what I need?
Holding on to the edge of the vanity, I lean across the small space to grab the shower curtain. Using it to steady myself while I slowly get inside and flip on the water. The cold spray hits me like a sharp blade cutting straight down the middle of me. It takes me a while to strip as myclothes become drenched, but the hot water feels so good that I’m in no rush.
This is nice, I keep telling myself while I suds my body. Like it’ll make me feel better, in spite of the hot water burning my skin and shooting the throb from the deeper cuts on my feet to my ankles.
The white hot pain makes it impossible to move when I feel the air stir behind me. The sudden cool shift shocking my skin with a frisson of goosebumps all over my body. Awareness heightens in my pores as I move deeper into the shower, trying as hard as I can to disappear for a while longer.
Ryker lied to me. He tricked me. I felt bad for him, and he took advantage of it. Of me.
I trusted him.
Sucking down the sob ripping out of my chest, I focus on the burn it radiates in my lungs as I shuffle right into the corner and allow the water to beat down on me.
“Crying again, baby?”
I freeze when the curtain pulls open behind me.
The limescale-encrusted tiles are slippery with steam from my scalding shower. In the near distance, voices boom in the room next door, smothered by the overwhelming, sickly sweet scent of men’s body wash and spray.
My head is still swimming, even though it feels like I’ve been in here for hours. I’m going to be sick again.
“Little pussy boy… D’you know what happens to pussies, Sylkes?” His hand grips the back of my neck, shoving me into the wall, beneath the hot spray.
Body wash rivulets from my hair, over my face. Stinging my eyes as I try to push back, but my hands slip. Nothing is working still. My head and my body are on a delay from each other, and nothing is functioning as I try to free myself.
“Stop!”Sucking in a lungful of soapy water, I choke on my yell.
Maybe it’s a scream with the way my throat rips raw. A garble of words I can’t quite think up with the sudden dark blankness. My heart hammers into my chest, warning me of the danger too late.
I can’t move.
I can’t scream.
Help me. Help me. Please.
All my pleas burn in silence. Quashed by the unshakeable weight at my back. The cold bluntness pressesright there.
Right there. And I freeze. Hold so fucking still that my body forgets how to live. Because, if I move… if I fight…
God, please.The soundless scream rips raw from my throat to my head with the abrupt shove that forces my insides up through my throat.
It hurts.
It burns.
It kills.
