June's POV:
(Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of sexual abuse. Reader discretion is strongly advised.)
He would know if I didn't shower.
He always knew.
And if he knew… the punishment would last longer.
So I showered. Even though it didn't wash anything away.
Even though it never does.
I kept my movements robotic, practiced, like muscle memory.
Because praying he wouldn't be home? That was useless.
He's always there.
Waiting.
Ready to take whatever he wants.
A horror so routine time itself bows to it.
It comes like a tide. Inescapable.
So I stopped trying to escape.
Now, I just wish it doesn't last long.
Earlier, Justin kept asking me what was wrong.
His eyes were so damn kind, it made something in me ache—
Made the truth rise like bile in my throat.
But I couldn't tell him.
I couldn't.
Because if I told him…
He wouldn't touch me again.
He'd look at me like I was filth.
He'd know what I really am.
So I smiled that smile he hates—
