Images of Jeremy last night filter through my exhausted brain when I’m too tired to keep them out. Even in the dark, the flush of his skin was clear. His moans when I left marks on his body haunt me now that I have zero hope of hearing them. Why did he let me touch him? His acceptance of whatever I wanted calmed me, soothed the fear and anxiety that is my constant companion. He seemed to need me just as much as I needed him. Why does he care about me? Doesn’t he know I’m not worth the effort?
