Yes, it happened again and again and again.
Every morning, I would step out, and somehow, Rex would always find me. It didn't matter how early I left or how carefully I moved—he always did.
Without a word, he would drag me to some secluded place, far from prying eyes, where he would take me until my legs could barely hold me up.
Afterward, I would clean myself as best as I could, scrubbing at my skin, trying desperately to erase his scent before anyone noticed.
I would return and go about my day as though nothing had happened, as though my life wasn't quietly falling apart around me… as though he hadn't left himself buried deep inside of me.
At first, I held on to hope.
I told myself I could escape, that there had to be a way out if I just tried hard enough. But that illusion didn't last long.
The more I paid attention, the more I realized how impossible it truly was.
