19
Sara
I expect Peter to f**k me then, right there in the shower, but he releases me and steps out of the stall, jerking a towel off the rack and wrapping it around me as I follow him out. He dries me with brisk motions, and then he grabs a towel for himself. His movements are rough, uneven, his eyes glittering darkly as he finishes toweling off and throws our towels back on the rack.
He’s angry or hurt or a combination of both, none of which bodes well for me.
Clasping my elbow, he leads me to the bedroom, and when we get to the bed, I fall onto it, my legs refusing to support me for a second longer. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me, my stomach growling with emptiness, and I realize I haven’t had anything to eat since those peanuts on the trail.
Peter must realize that too, becaus
