Three days had passed. Three days in which I had avoided everything—him, conversations, glances. I simply functioned. I stood up, ate, fed the animals as if I weren't really there. But no matter how hard I tried to push him out of my mind, his touch still burned on my skin, even now, days later.

The morning after was hell. My whole body ached—every muscle, every movement reminded me of the previous night. Bruises adorned my skin, my throat felt sore, but my heart ached most of all. The physical scars faded over time, but the feeling of having been used remained.

Since then, I'd avoided him. I barricaded myself...