The moment the door clicks shut, I know this is it. Lessy, in her innocent schoolgirl uniform, stands in the hallway, her eyes glistening. She’s supposed to be saying goodbye to her parents, but the way she bites her lip as they hug her tells me she’s thinking about what’s really coming. Her father’s hand lingers on her waist a second too long, and I see her shiver. The mother is oblivious, fussing with Lessy’s collar, but I catch the slight tilt of her daughter’s hips as she presses against him. This is a family that hides dark secrets behind closed doors.
When they finally leave, Lessy doesn’t move. She stands there, breathing heavily, as if waiting for a signal. I know she’s been trained for this moment. The way her fingers trace the edge of her skirt, the way she licks her lips—it’s all part of the ritual. She walks slowly to her room, and I follow, my heart pounding. She knows I’m watching. She wants me to see as she unbuttons her shirt, revealing her smooth skin. But it’s not for me. It’s for the memory of her father’s touch, the way he made her feel dirty and wanted.
I can’t hold back. I step into the room, and she doesn’t flinch. She turns to me, her eyes dark with a hunger that matches mine. “He’s gone,” she whispers, and I know she means her father. But in this moment, I am him. I am every man who has ever taken her. She drops to her knees, her hands already reaching for my belt. This is the farewell she’s been rehearsing—not to her parents, but to her innocence. And I’m going to take it all.
