I always knew it was over when the volume read 15 on the T.V. “That 70’s Show” would be rerunning; Fes was still funny after all those years. It hurt to laugh and crying didn’t help much either. He clapped his hands in front of my face.

His zipper was caught again. Why did he insist on wearing those pants? I always would have to zip them back up for him, touch him, and have his breath on me. The warmth crawling down the nape of my neck and creeping further down my spine. Once his pants were zipped, he patted me on the head. Opening the door, he started to leave, yelling down the stairs “ Can I come over again tomorrow, babe?”
   

  “ Of course,” my mom giddily replied. She yelled for me to come down too and see him off. But I was in the bathroom, making sure the water was hot enough to scold away his fingerprints. My phone vibrated on the sink. It was my sister.

“He gone?” it read.

“No,” I replied, “ I’ll text you when it’s safe.”

“Alright I’m going to his house again.” I didn’t reply after that. I knew his was just another term for anybody who’d be there for her.

I stripped and entered the tub. Letting all of the evidence rise to the top. I looked at it this time and pulled it out of the water. It felt alive; as if, moving on my fingertips, trying to scurry up my arm, and nibble on my mouth. His favorite part.

Sis’s shaving razor looked nice right then. Picking it up I traced my wrist with it. My eye’s began to water, breath became haggard, and the world went out of focus. The razor pulled the rind off of my body. Blood started to fill the tub.

My phone started vibrating.