I’m too weak to fight him off. Weak both physically and emotionally. So I let him kiss me. I stand stiff, unresponsive as he kisses me to prove some kind of point. His teeth clack against mine in anger. His tongue delves inside my mouth, stroking, searching, seeking out a response. God, I try so hard not to respond. I cling onto the hate because if I succumb, if I let him in, if I really lean into his touch like I’ve craved for so long, then I’m no better than him or any of these men and women who’ve allowed their weaknesses to take hold tonight. Right here, right now. I’m making another
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