Page 87 of Teacher's Pet

Something I can’t name.

Her petrified expression when I came up from cleaning her up still lingers in my mind.

The way her body shook, the way she froze, as if fragile, as if she were seeing me, really seeing me, for the first time.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know what those scars meant.

She didn’t know what they turned me into.

And for the first time in a long time, something ugly and foreign swirls in my chest.

Something I don’t recognize.

Something I don’t want to recognize.

Guilt.

Every other time, I dismissed women without a second thought, watching them stagger out of my building, their bodies marked, ruined and used without a shred of regret.

So why do I feel so fucking guilty now?

"Hey."

Her voice is soft.

Too soft.

I snap my focus toward the doorway, startled, my heart tightening at the sight of her.

Ana stands there, wrapped in nothing but her own arms, her legs shaking, her skin painted in bruises and nail marks, all evidence of what I did to her.

What she let me do.

My chest tightens.

She looks so small like this. So exposed.

I didn’t even think to get her something to cover up.

Fucking idiot.

She tries to hide herself, arms pulling tighter around her body, her confidence faltering for the first time since I met her.

No.

No, Ana-

"Come here." My voice is low, steady, "Come feel the water. Make sure it’s okay."

I reach for her, my hand outstretched, but she hesitates, keeping her arms locked over her body.

"T-thank you," she stammers. "I’m sure it’s fine-"

"Ana."

Her name leaves my lips gently, but firm enough to stop her.

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