Aurelia

​With the grocery bags pressed to my chest, I take my time strolling down the idle street, it’s empty, understandable at this time of the day.

The more I think about everything, the more insane it all becomes.

The fact that less than twenty four hours ago I was putting on the show of my life with a mask on my face and a different name, for men who’d paid a fortune just to see me in that light. For my step-brothers.

There’s a massive difference between writing fantasies about them on paper, a whole other world from everything that happened last night.

I want to hate myself for it.

I want to not replay the memories back in my head as often as I do.

I want to never want a repeat.

But I can’t. No matter how hard I try.

It feels like a horrible itch I’ve only now been able to scratch. The dirtiest, most demented parts of me coming to life and relishing in the dreams that have now become my reality.

If I had the chance to go back, I know without a doubt that I’d do it all over again.

And it