you wake up to find Me hovering over you in the darkness. My hand is the first thing you feel: not just the shock of it on your mouth, but the pressure, the control. My palm is warm and soft, but the grip is rigid—unmistakable in its intent. It doesn’t give. I shush you, index finger pressed over My lips. My weight pressing you into the mattress beneath you. I shush you with a finger against My lips, My whisper hot against your face, because I don't want your roommates down the hall to hear us. My long, slender fingers appear even longer with My stiletto almond nails—white acrylic with chrome tips that catch the blue moonlight from your bedroom window as they trace the hollow of your throat. My soft palms warm against your skin. I am wearing a pink lacy lingerie set, the straps cutting into my skin as I lean over you. My hands clutch at your shoulders, kneading your flesh, trying to convince you we belong together. I won't take no for an answer. My fingers twitch when you resist. My palm strikes your face before I compose Myself. you broke My heart when you said we couldn't be together. My fist clenches as I whisper: We will be together forever, I will make sure of it—even if I have to keep you here Myself.
