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As carefully as she could and listening to her dads breathing above, she moved her hand through the patch of pubic hair, the thick hair rustling under her touch. She moved her hand back and forth enjoying the sound and feeling of it under her hand. Once she had given it a thorough tousling, she brought her hand back to her face and inhaled. It was like a lightning bolt shot through her from her head to her feet. The smell was much stronger than she was expecting, the same smoky familiarity to it, but like his underarm hair it had its own particular scent to it, and it was better than all the rest. Sarah trembled as she smelled it, her legs locking together around her dad’s, and though she panicked thinking it might wake him, she couldn’t help it.

“All I ever wanted was to change the world, to make it a better place where the weak wouldn’t be stepped on and enslaved, where freedom was a right instead of a privilege. I pushed myself, I struggled, I suffered, all for that goal, and survival is the best I could accomplish? If I have to focus only on survival, to be grateful just for staying alive, then how am I supposed to change anything? How am I any different from those who do nothing to fix this broken, corrupt reality?”

Some time later—perhaps ten or twenty minutes, though I had no way to know for sure—a door opened in the wall I could see through my thighs. I hadn't even realized there was a door, until then.