I don't remember him leaving. I don't know if I passed out from the pain or the terrible emotional exhaustion, but when I opened my eyes, he was gone. I could feel his essence slowly running from my injured cunt, and I thought the wetness on the pillow might have been his tears.
I never saw him again.
My physical wounds eventually healed. The wounds of my mind have not. The guilt has become a part of me, never allowing me to feel or give the magic of love. Images of my mother, lying broken in the street, constantly invade every night's sleep. The final night with Lonnie has blown out the light of my body's desire. The pleasures I have given and received have become only the chapters that have led to this shriveled, unhappy ending.
Mai and my father have begun their own life. They have tried to help me, but the fear that I might somehow spoil their love forced me to reject all of their unselfish attempts. In the end, I drove them away, too. At least they have a shot at finding the happiness that, I know, will never be mine.