>Mallory
"…Son of a…" I cursed, my hand flying to my mouth instinctively, like I could shove the rest of the words back in.
I was finally able to get up by myself and go to the bathroom without feeling like I was dying, and this is what I'd see?
I lifted the oversized shirt I was wearing, the hem brushing against my wrists. The tall bathroom mirror threw my reflection back at me with as if judging me.
My entire body visible except for the thin lace underwear covering my lower region, and every inch of my neck and collarbone—hell, even the tops of my shoulders—looked like they had been attacked. Dark, angry hickeys everywhere. Some were fresh and reddish, others already turning deep purple like bruised fruit. A few looked like the kind of marks you get from little nibbles… except multiplied by twenty.
My stomach twisted in on itself. I let out this dying-whale noise and covered my eyes with my hand in sheer embarrassment.
