Ribs covered in goosebumps. That’s all I remember. Not the sweat or shame. Not any of the convulsions. Or the broken wrist. Suffocating darkness. Just enough light to remember I was alive, just enough pain to know death was an alternative. Sudden pain. Drugs in my veins. My brain was on ice, she was the doctor. Am I insane for being wanted? Or wanted for being insane? Incapable of telling her no? Or capable of telling her, yes, I want all of you inside me.