Her insides began to gurgle, heat building as it fueled her rage, an imposter having infiltrated her home base, mocking her with kindness and love. Spencer’s back pressed more firmly against Ashley’s chest and front, digging her heels into the indentations in the tile for leverage, forcing her back against the girl with increasing strength, anticipating the grunt of air that would escape Ashley’s lips, hot on Spencer’s neck, as the weight against her transformed into pain, her muscles constricting and grinding together, her lungs shrinking in size, panic flowing freely throughout her nerve endings.

Ashley began to stir, mumbling. Spencer stopped the act of torture, gasping a hand to her mouth, her lips pressed together, suppressing what might come out of her: a scream, a sob, a song? A thin layer of mist clouded her vision, as the part of her that needed someone to listen, to just touch her, even for a second, began to take over, forcing her to a sitting position, allowing Ashley’s body to breath.

She shifted her body around, her muscles and bones aching from hours of awkward positions. Having grown old before their time, each thrust involuntarily into a life of slavery, as Spencer’s health depleted exponentially, her knees sore and weak from night after night of tile to cartilage impact, the lining of her throat a bright red, drowning and weathering away in the acidic bile that rose up from her stomach lining.

Ash’s hair was a mess, a few hairs matted to her forehead, her shirt stuck to her chest, tiny pin-sized circles of moisture visible through the cotton where Spencer’s back had pressed against her.

One shoe lay on its side against the far wall. Ashley’s bare toe twitched. She was wearing blue X-Men socks. Spencer cautiously reached out and poked Ashley’s big toe with her finger. The toe twitched again. Spencer’s brow furrowed, the smell of pancakes and eggs permeating the bathroom. Her heart jerked into her chest, now aware that someone else was at the house. Her mind raced and she scooted backwards against the tile, her shaky legs attempting to pry her to a standing position. Looking towards the door, she noticed a big black messenger bag with a Pixies pin on the front.