Prose by Becca Sheehan

Mark Me
A girl dials the phone. Breathes before telling him “I love you.” Blinks while wiping her eyes and spits after licking her lips. Smiles at her tattered body.

Before this a girl straightens her dress while stepping out of half moving car. Reaches into purse to slip on torn panties and places bare feet methodically onto cement.

Before this a girl bites her lip in backseat, fending off those of the thing above her. Bleeds on the leather interior, too numb to scream.

Before this two hands engaged in battle. The only ones brave enough to actually mark her. Cracks hers on the window. Bruises skin on angry knuckles. Words are nothing now.

Before this a boy smiles, says “you’re so beautiful with words.” Uses hand to touch her flesh. Cultivates a wolf inside himself.

Before this a girl puts on mascara and lipstick. Sits in bedroom thinking how she can tell him she doesn’t love him.