Page 4 of Scream
The evidence is gone now, washed down the drain.
But the feelings are still there.
Hands touching me, lips on me, being spread open, poked and prodded and, and…
And.
Dirty.
I’m dirty everywhere.
There are days when the hottest showers can’t cleanse me enough.
There are nights I think that another hot as fuck shower will fix me - take away his touch…
But it’s been three months and nothing works.
I’m also back in New York City.
Andheis… well, he’selsewhere.
Nowhere near me.
Yet I’m still trapped.
In my mind.
In my body.
I’m not Sabrina anymore.
I’m an actress now, pretending nothing ever happened and the entire world is nothing but a stage and nothing can hurt me.
Always smiling…
Smiling…
Smiling.
Three MORE Months Later
I stare out of my passenger side window, watching the first snowflakes of the year gather on the ground along the pavement as Parker drives me in the Escalade to Winters & Co Law offices. It’s quiet because I can’t stand overtly loud music anymore. But he doesn’t seem to mind. I appreciate that about Parker now. I used to rile him up every morning playing something loud and obnoxious ‘to wake him up.’
Now?
Now I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in one hundred and eighty-two days. I haven’t run every other morning in just as many. Now, I can't listen to certain songs without wanting to peel my skin off.
So, we don’t listen to music loudly anymore. I don’t scream-sing and I don’t ask him to play anything other than the low chattering of whatever sportsball podcast he is playing.
Most days, we sit in silence.
He parks, getting out to open my door for me and I inhale. He holds his hand out and I makesure to put on my glove before sliding my hand in his and stepping out then righting myself, clutching my Tupperware holding the cupcakes I made for the office last night.
Exhaling, I take my hand back quickly, smooth down my rose skirt, needing to get to my office quickly so I can wash my hands even though he didn’t directly touch me but if I don’t… I get hives.
“Head inside so I can park.” He says, keeping his voice low, where that authoritative tone used to make me burn with need, it doesn’t do much anymore. Not like…before. I wish it did. “I’ll be there shortly.”
I nod, square my shoulders, take in another deep breath and stride into the rotating doors, plastering an award-winning smile onmy face.
