87

When I wake up from my induced sleep, I refuse to open my eyes. I feel Damon's body next to mine on the couch, but this is a reality I don't want to face.

I don't want to have to ask what happened, and I don't want to look at the world as it is now.

I miss my overcoat, I miss my shirt, and I feel my skirt lifted above my thighs. I really don't want to know what happened in the time between my last memory and now. I don't want to find out the shit I did.

I remember feeling bad until a blackout took over my mind. I remember seeing things that were too fanciful to be true, but this is more like a dream. I can't say that I lived what I remember.

However, the remnants of hope ingrained in my brain tell me to open my eyes when Damon stands up. His warm body is removed from mine, which is frankly a relief.

"what did you do to me?" I manage to whisper.

"oh, you're already awake"

I open my eyes to contemplate my fear. Damon is shirtless, buttoning the top button of his pants. He has messy hair