Honeyed Pasture baby, come give me something new.

Feel free to interrupt :)

Remember— Strangers hurt me for a long time. She thought about the other girls, and the men who had enslaved them. I never said anything. Throughout their exploitation, Ying had remained silent, complacent; she had chosen to remove herself from the trauma, experiencing the emotional and physical pain from a safe distance.

I pretended this never happened, and I stopped talking about it. Ying wondered if the twins had done the same, or if they still whispered in private about what had transpired. She decided that it was unlikely, but couldn't completely shake the thought from her mind. 

She turned back to Astaroth, but quickly shifted her gaze to the ground. Sometimes, I let men touch me, because I feel in control, she explained. Her goal had been the reclamation of her sexuality, but it had been in vain. Rather than healing, Ying had opted to continue adding fire and salt to her inner blaze.

But this time — inhale, exhale — I'm not in control now, and I remember the things I don't want anymore. I feel it all happening at the same time. Constant, inescapable discomfort; when would it end?

I don't know what to do.

Her tear-brimmed eyes lifted again to Astaroth, and suddenly overtaken with guilt, she continued. Maybe, I am not good at loving things, because no one wants me. It is like, maybe everyone can see I am dirty and they are afraid. So why aren't you? It had been that way with Aningan, with Arcturus; surely, Astaroth felt the same. I am afraid, too.