Emma

We quickly pull away from each other. I scramble to my feet, my shirt slipping down over my head, my hands shaking as I try to smooth it out. 

My pulse races in my ears. Knox struggles with his zipper. Without another word, he hurries out, not once glancing back.

I stand there, my chest tight, just breathing. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to catch my breath, the air feeling too thick, too suffocating.

The kitchen is a mess. Shards of glass catch the light above, and silverware is scattered across the floor, evidence of what just happened. 

The faint, lingering scent of everything that...