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“Don’t do that again.” He stares directly into my eyes. “Then don’t fuck me when I have to be quiet,” I hiss. His mouth pops open like he’s about to say something, but he frowns instead. “I’m getting you a gag, and quit saying fuck—that’s how we got here.”
“I know I’d rather be at home.” A tear leaks out of my eye. Do they not understand how dehumanizing it is to listen to someone talk about you as if you don’t matter? Don’t they know I want to be at home just like them?
