~Lyra~

I held the photo tighter.

Tighter than I meant to.

My fingers were actually trembling, and not from the sex. Not from the ache in my thighs or the cum still dripping down my leg or the fucking bruises on my hips. This was different. This was rage. This was realization. This was the sick, stupid silence that came with remembering something you should’ve remembered but were too busy getting ruined to think about.

I let out a laugh.

Dry.

Sharp.

...