Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons.

I swung my hips around like I unscrewed at the waist.

I’m jealous – not of their money to spend, but jealous that, for them, going home is a simple matter of turning down the correct lane.

I had spent so much time secretly scared of rape that in that moment I was hardly even afraid anymore. Or rather I had moved on to my next fear—what happens when it’s over? Would I be left there, alone? Injured? Or worse?