And he drove.
PAAH.
Single stroke.
Half depth — measured, committed, the first half of something irreversible delivered in one clean motion, and the daughter received it with every nerve ending she owned.
The hymen.
Gone.
Blood moving through pool water from the ledge — thin, warm, dissolving red spreading away from them in the current, visible in the chamber light for a moment before the water took it.
She screamed.
"—AAAHNNNN~~~~~!!!!—"
Nothing like her previous sounds.
This was the sound that lives beneath all the other sounds — the high, full-throated, real-pain scream of a body encountering the singular, irreversible event for the first time, with nothing left between her and the full weight of it.
Her spine went backward off her mother.
Both arms flung wide, reaching for something that wasn't there, the arch carrying her whole torso up before her mother's arms dragged her back down.
