I turned my head.
Slow.
Trembling.
And there she was.
Tasha.
+8 PORTS *
Standing at the end of the hall, hair in a messy ponytail, holding a cup of cereal in one hand and glaring at me like I’d just returned from robbing a bank.
“Hello?” she waved the cereal spoon.
“I’ve been calling you. Where the f**k did you disappear to?”
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
My p***y pulsed.
I was still leaking.
My thighs were glued together.
His shirt was hanging off my shoulders like a confession. Oversized. Black. Probably still smelled like his sweat.
Oh my f*****g God.
I opened my mouth again, hoping a miracle would fall out, but my brain was doing that static thing. The one where it just screamed f**k f**k f**k in all caps on repeat like a broken slut radio.
“Were you with someone?” she narrowed her eyes suddenly, stepping forward like a predator sniffing out a secret.
“Why are you-wait, is that my dad’s shirt?”
Boom.
That was it.
Heart officially stopped.
Game over.
Lyra.exe has crashed.
I tried to smile.
It came out like a seizure.
“Oh, I-I spilled something on my top I croaked.
“So he..uh..he gave me this to wear. It’s just a shirt, nothing weird, I was in the laundry room, swear..”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
My hand instinctively gripped the door handle behind me.
Her eyes dropped to my thighs
Oh f**k.
Was there c*m? Was it on my leg? Could she see it?
Was there a shiny trail down my f*****g leg right now?
I squeezed my thighs together like that would hide anything, but the second I did, a warm, wet slide slipped lower and I knew. I knew.
Her eyes squinted.
“Why are you walking like that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m not limping!”
“Lyra, are you sick or something?” b***h I’m full of your dad’s c**k.
I shook my head.
Too fast.
“Nope! I’m fine! Just period cramps! You know-feminine pain and agony and all that horror! Definitely not closet s*x with your father, ha-ha!”
I didn’t say that last part out loud.
At least I hope I didn’t.
She blinked.
I yanked the door open.
“Gotta go!”
I blurted.
“Gonna cry into my hot water bottle and bleed to death like a responsible adult woman!”
And I slammed the door shut behind me.
Dead silence.
Then.
“f*****g weirdo,”
I heard her mutter through the door.
My knees buckled.
I collapsed against the inside of the door, heart pounding like it was trying to jump out of my chest and the crime scene. escape
Holy. f*****g.
S**t.
I almost died.
She looked at my legs.
She saw the shirt.
She smelled the air, probably. Knew something was off. And I was standing there with a raw, leaking cunt full
Still Full Of Him of her dad’s c*m like some twisted porn version of “meet the family.”
Oh my God.
I was not going to survive this.
There was no way.
+ Pouts
My best friend almost saw the proof of what her dad did to me dripping down my thighs, and I still had his shirt on, still had his c*m inside me, still couldn’t f*****g think straight.
I dropped to my knees on the floor.
Pressed my forehead to the carpet.
Tried to scream into it.
Nothing came out but a choked gasp and a strangled whimper.
Because I wasn’t just ruined – I was wrecked.
Mentally. Emotionally. Vaginally. Spiritually. Every -ly you could think of.
And I had just managed to crawl toward my bed like a war victim when-
Knock. Knock. Knock.
No.
No no no. froze.
Again.
This time on all fours.
And then I heard her voice.
“Lyra? Hey, have you seen my dad?”
My soul left my f*****g body.
She was right outside my door again.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.