Things I Wanted To Say

by Monica Murphy

But now she’s my whore, and I don’t share.

“You treat me like shit,” I spit at him, hating the pain coursing through me. “Like I’m worthless.” “Familiar, right? Isn’t that how you treat yourself?” He lifts a brow.

“You’re always what I want.”

But she’s my whore. No one else’s.