Sienna~
I woke the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee drifting up from downstairs.
And my throat still burning like I'd swallowed fire.
I tried to sit up and felt my body protest—the soreness between my legs, the ache in my jaw, the throbbing in my throat that made even breathing uncomfortable.
I swung my legs out of bed slowly, testing my limits. Everything hurt.
I made my way downstairs, each swallow agony, and found the kitchen empty except for a single coffee mug sitting in the sink.
He'd already left.
A note was stuck to the fridge with a magnet:
Working late tonight. Don't wait up.
Seven words.
That's all I got. Seven words after degrading myself, after letting him hurt me, after accepting pain and humiliation in exchange for scraps of attention.
I crumpled the note in my fist and leaned against the counter, my vision blurring with tears.
