Toxic

by Nicole Blanchard

Instead of my husband’s eyes on me, it’s the inmate’s attention that’s causing my panic.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I think I’m exactly what you need.”

It has been so long since I’ve felt anything other than violence and fear.

“Because you always look like you want to scurry away into a corner and hide."

I’d never known such a delicate touch could come from such a big, brutal man.

More aching, filthy, rawness.

How is it possible that one man, someone who is supposed to uphold the law, can tear me down, and another, who is supposed to be the scum of the earth, can build me up?

but the jagged edges don’t quite fit anymore.

“I’m playing a most dangerous game, and you’re the prize. Our deal is off, Tessa. I want you, and I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

“You're not upset because you didn't like it. You're angry because you loved it.”

Tomorrow, I will be free of the prison of my own making.

Is this the result of years of abuse—this dark, dirty yearning—or is it just him?

The line between panic and pleasure is blurred with each flick and glide of his tongue.

“You shouldn’t want me. I am not a nice man. I am not a good man. I do bad things for bad people.”

Maybe I'll be okay, and maybe I won't. Either way, I'm going to stop being the victim and start fighting back.