"I got a little rough last night. I hope you don't mind." Zen said as he came up behind her, placing his fingers on her neck and caressing the marks.
Ramona sat in front of the mirror and held her hair up with one hand staring at his hand and then the marks on her neck, which were clearly visible. They were dark and shaped like fingers. And her skin still ached when she breathed.
She touched the bruises and his fingers lightly. They throbbed under her fingertips.
Ramona didn't look away from the mirror and instead watched the way his hand covered her bruises. The size of it. The shape of his fingers. The strength that had caused them. If only she could remember when it happened. Just how enjoyable would that be.
She frowned a little. Every time they were together, something like this happened. She never remembered the end and always seemed to black out. But she also always woke up sore and unable to recall the moment she wanted most to hold on to.
She didn't understand why.
