kristen hill

As like all the other times she spent a minute at least inhaling the scent of his crotch, but holding off on the usual tongue bath, she instead continued her climb. Her slim stomach and breasts slid along her father’s muscular and hairy chest until she was lying almost directly over him. He puffed away noisily under the tubes of his CPAP machine none the wiser, a frustrating device that prevented her from exploring his mouth as well.

I ran from my guilt, immersing myself deeper in Galvin’s lies, telling myself that my power protected me from all accountability. The things he did were even worse, the things he did to women, but he was so sure that it was his right, that any wrongdoing could be dismissed, and I wanted that assuredness. I wanted to never have to worry about what I was doing, to never doubt or question myself, because as long as I thought what I did was right, I wouldn’t have to fear failure or be afraid of making mistakes. But that was the true mistake, my greatest failure, and so many people suffered for it.”

“He—” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy, a foreign, slightly bitter taste on my tongue. “Help!” My voice was so weak and thready, there was no way anyone would hear me, not through what I was now recognizing as sound-proof padding on the walls. What had happened to me? I couldn't remember. I didn't know where I was, had no idea why I was here.