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Oh god. The fantasy.

It was coming true, wasn’t it?

I wasn’t ready for double penetration yet. My butthole was too tight. I hadn’t dared put a finger up there yet. What if I farted? What if I-

Calax’s chuckle cut me off in mid-mental-rant.

“I’m thinking aloud again, aren’t I?” I whispered against his broad chest. I could feel the heat emitting from Declan’s warm body behind me. Before Calax could answer, Declan’s arm wrapped around my waist, and his legs entangled with mine. It was such an intimate embrace that pinpricks of desire radiated throughout my body. I glanced at Calax, gauging his reaction, only to find his eyes on me, the heat in his gaze lighting a path.

“You were,” he admitted. Before I could react, he brought his lips to my ear.

“And when I take you from behind, you’ll be prepared.”

Before I could reply - because, really, what could I even say to something likethat? - his teeth clamped down on my sensitive lobe. An instinctive moan of pleasure, of bliss, filled the air. Calax chuckled darkly.

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered breathlessly.

Held in the embrace of two men, I drifted off to sleep. Honestly? It was the best night of sleep I had in years.

“Are you just going to stand there with a dopey expression on your face?” Bowel Movements asked snidely, snapping me out of my reverie. I glared at the little bitch, wishing that I could punch her face...and then I realized that I was actually wishing to punch my own face.

Shit got confusing.

“I was thinking,” I snapped. B.M. gave me an exaggerated eye roll.

“Wow. That’s fascinating. You must be so proud of yourself.”

Had I really been that condescending?

Had I really been that much of a bitch?

Yes. Yes I had.

Turning away from B.M., I began to walk down the snow-covered street. The carcasses of tree branches grazed my face as I stepped off the path and into the forest the children had emerged from.

“Where are you going?” There was more disdain than actual curiosity in her voice.

“Away,” I retorted back. Twigs snapped beneath my feet, the sound drum-shattering loud in the unaccustomed silence. I realized, somewhat vaguely, that the lack of sound was disturbing and unnerving. There should’ve been critters scampering to and fro. Leaves rustling in the cold winter breeze. Birds cawing from up above. Instead, I was met with a silence that slithered over my skin like a dark, sticky tar. I rubbed at my arms instinctively, as if that gesture could somehow fight the chill that had nothing to do with the cold.

“You can’t run away from this!” B.M. called after me. I didn’t even have to look to know that she would be rolling her eyes. Knowing her - knowingme- her hip would be cocked to the side with a hand on said hip. It was a standard pose I had perfected when I was younger. The eloquent gesture spoke volumes to how many shits I gave. Namely, none.

“I’m not technically running!” I called back, very nearly tripping over a tree branch. I would like to give credit to my ninja-like reflexes for keeping me on my feet. My training with Fallon had most definitely paid off. “I’m walking.”

“You always do this.” Her voice came from just above my shoulder, and I flinched. Though her tone could almost be described as dispassionate, there was a certain coldness that thickened the air. Goosebumps erupted on my flesh.

“Do what?” I asked, though I didn’t care. At this point, I wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

As far away from me as possible.

I was beginning to associate B.M. with the girl that I hated. The girl that I used to be. Weak and selfish and with this constant pressure to be perfect and to have the world behave perfectly as well. I knew that the weight on her shoulders was suffocating; I knew, because I felt the same way even now. This was a version of myself that hadn’t survived such a drowning. She was still tumbling through wave after wave, unable to find that pocket of fresh air. Her features were hardened because of what she had been through: no love, no companionship, no guys. A slave to our parents.

Briefly, I felt pity for her.

For me.

For the girl I used to be.