Page 31 of The Secretary Volume II

The spoon hangs loosely between her fingers, but she doesn’t seem aware of it.There’s something unsettling about the way she stands, too still, like a marionette waiting for someone to pull the strings again.

I should leave it alone.

I don’t.

Because right then, something shifts.A flicker of movement in her hand.A small slip of paper, it looks like a receipt.She studies it for a long moment.Then, with eerie precision, she crumples it into a tight ball, tosses it into the trash, and walks out.

No hesitation.No second glance.

Curiosity gets the best of me.

I glance toward the door.She’s already gone.

For a moment, I tell myself to be normal.To get my coffee and go back to work.

Then I take a step forward.

The note is still warm when I fish it from the trash.

Crumpled.Wrinkled.Handled.

I smooth it open.

Her handwriting is messy, frantic.Like someone trying to pin something down before it slips away.

I scan the words.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had to write this.

They’ll probably make me rewrite it again soon.

They love to make me forget.

The first time, it felt inevitable.

Like a weight I knew would crush me, and still, I let it.

He knew what he was doing.

The way he touched me.

The way he held me by the throat.

The way he made sure I’d never be the same after.

I told myself I wouldn’t let him win.

I told myself I’d remember.

But I don’t.

Not all of it.Not enough.

Only pieces.

I remember heat.Hands.His teeth digging into my collarbone, him telling me I was already his.

I remember wanting it.

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