”At first I see an open wound
infected and disastrous
It breathes chaotic catastrophe
it cries to be renewed
Its tears are the color of anger,
they dry to form a scab
To the touch, its stiff and resilient,
underneath, the new skin breathes
As outwardly cliche as it may seem,
yes, something under the surface says,
"C’est la vie"…”

The morning after, when Shane woke up, Jenny was still resting over her chest.

Shane lifted her head from the pillow and felt the embarrassment fill her up like a disastrously violent wave. She rubbed her eyes, blushing slightly, and uttered a heartfelt “shit” under her voice.

Jenny’s fingers, her varnished nails lingered on Shane’s nipple as soon as she opened her eyes and Shane repressed an uncomfortable chuckle, turning her head, staring at the ceiling, hoping to be swallowed by the monster under the bed immediately.

Then Jenny spoke those few words and Shane froze.

“I’m glad we fucked”.

They came out in a whisper, they were accompanied by long, flapping eyelashes and a sly smirk and Shane felt it again. The shame. The blurred feeling of void, that “I’ve fucking crossed the fucking line” thing. And her body tensed.

Shane had always been less than romantic. She should have been used to words like those, but that morning they hurt her and made her feel like shit. There was something definitely wrong in what they had done for the whole night, in the way Jenny was looking at her and smiling, and something wrong in those few words that had just been spoken.

They were wrong and Shane felt filthy.

She untangled from Jenny and sat up, her naked feet resting on the cold floor. She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

“No… no…”, she mumble, huskily.

Jenny propped on her elbow and raked her hand through her dark hair.

“No? No what?”, she whispered.

Shane glanced back, briefly, caught a glimpse of Jenny’s naked thighs and grimaced. And a new horizon of feeling hammered against her soul: incest.

“We shouldn’t have done it. It’s wrong”, she mumbled.

Jenny’s hand brushed her shoulder and Shane jolted, standing up, suddenly ashamed of her own nudity. She grabbed her boy shorts from the floor and put them on hastily.

“I gotta go”, she croaked.