Page 51 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
Anguish at each lick.
Anguish at each thrust.
But somehow, in the midst of it all, that anguish turns into anger.
And I feel better.
I find refuge.
“Minka.”
“Huh?”
“Well?”
“Sorry. What did you say, Mina?”
Mina groans, her cheeks puffing out in a way that makes her look younger than her eight years. “Stop ignoring me!”
“I’m not ignoring you.” I hold up some fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“What’s scout’s honor?”
“Never mind,” I say, my mind already straying.
I eye the giant bottle of Costco Kirkland hand sanitizer, sitting next to the sink that’s behind Mina. I wonder what would happen if I steal it. Would they catch me? Would I even care if they catch me?
Last night, after losing my virginity and being told immediately after that I was no longer wanted, that I had been played, I went home and showered.
But when that one shower wasn’t enough, I showered again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I showered thirteen times, and I still felt dirty.
No matter how many times I scrubbed my body raw or how many times I scoured shampoo through my hair, I didn’t feel clean. I could still feel the bruising touch of his hands on my skin and his breath against my neck. No amount of soap and water was going to wash the dirtiness of it off.
And finally, I had to stop.
After all, I couldn’t afford to take that many showers.
Thanks to the millions of showers I took yesterday, I’ll have to use less soap and take shorter showers for the next three months to make up for all the shampoo, body soap and water I wasted last night. Maybe I’ll even have to pick up a few extra shifts at the diner I work at full time to pay for the bump in the utilities bill.
But still, I have to do something.
My skin feels itchy and gross, even though I know in my head that it’s clean.
I eye the hand sanitizer yet again and wonder if I can fit it in my little bag. It’s a big bottle, probably the height of my forearm and double the width. So, I doubt it would fit… but man, do I want to take it home with me, pour it in the bathtub, and lay in it for days and days until I feel cleansed.
“MINKA!!!” Mina says again, shouting directly in my ear this time.
I wince and recoil from her. “Jesus! WHAT? What do you want?” I ask, sharply.
