At the very least, a final swim was in order.The surf held some power that evening, breaking forcefully but also quite smoothly. The turbulence beneat... the surface was minimal, and rather the waves seemed to want to push as high as they could onto land. I pressed through the thick swells, letting myself be carried a few steps backward every little while, not fighting it but still making headway.After a time, it grew too deep to stand and as such the white-topped edges could no longer develop. ”I’d lay in my room, crying, staring in the mirror at my face, with my swollen dark eyes, my pouty full lips, my long black hair, my body. I hated my body. It beckoned him. I know, because he’d whisper it was my fault as he rammed into me. Holding my throat as he said, “you’re a fucking waste with a body like this. A fucking waste.” The waste of the body was firm, petite, and supple. He’d grip it firmly in his large hands till it bruised and felt on the brink of breaking.I once tried locking. More

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