Aren’t pretty girls supposed to be scared of monsters? I am scared. I’m fucking terrified. Terrified of the monster I let in my mouth, in between my legs, and into my mind. I’m even more afraid of the marks he’s left on me. Not the ones you can see. No, those will fade away with time. The ones that have me knotted up with fear are the ones you can’t see. The marks that I can feel.
