‘But I thought you enjoyed it,’ he said when I ultimately sought him out after a long period of silence following an intense yet impetuous intimate encounter during which he slapped me across the face. Something no man had ever dared to do. He never asked if he could; it was merely a spur-of-the-moment thing. Consent was lost in the wickedness of pleasure. I let it go because I was misled by his embrace and dazzled by his charm.
I must admit that I didn’t hate it at the moment, but I have despised it every day afterwards as a result of his indifference. He’d let me slip away so casually.
Don’t get me wrong, he was plenty sweet in the few hours we spent together. But it was all for nothing; it was a waste of my sentimentality.
Another one of the many men to contribute to the depreciation of my soul value.
She Was Sea 