The seat is leather and within minutes my back is damp, and my t-shirt sticks to my skin. I am shaking. I see through blurred eyes, as Phil holds me to his chest and does not let go. The doctor is mumbling, but I do not hear or care. Phil will tell me later that for him, it is a relief. That he will always have me to himself. That he wouldn’t want to share me with anyone else anyway.
All I hear is that I am to blame.
All I hear is that I am to blame.
