His Private Swim Sessions - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading His Private Swim Sessions, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of His Private Swim Sessions.
His words turned my stomach. I should've known Vincent Roland was a snake—all charm in public, venom in private.
After a few hollow goodbyes, Luna Valentine disappeared into the night, leaving me alone with him.
Vincent slammed the shower room door shut, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's get one thing straight. You don't talk. Not to friends, not to cops—nobody. This stays between us."
He flashed his phone like a weapon. "Cross me, and those little secrets of yours? They won't stay secret for long."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. My head bobbed in numb agreement, begging silently for this to be over.
Finally—after an eternity of threats—he let me go.
I didn't breathe until I was outside, sprinting down the empty street, my bag clutched to my chest like armor.
Midnight. No cars. No people. Just the echo of my footsteps and Vincent's voice looping in my skull.
By the time I stumbled into my apartment, every muscle screamed.
I didn't stop moving.
The shower blasted ice-cold, but I barely felt it. I scrubbed until the loofah frayed, until my skin burned raw, until the water ran pink.
Only then did I collapse.
Curled in the corner, shaking, I let the sobs rip through me. The water drowned my cries, but nothing could drown the war in my head:
Call the cops. He'll hurt someone else.
Don't. He'll destroy you.
My phone weighed a thousand pounds. I grabbed it. Put it down. Grabbed it again.
The cycle didn't stop.
After a few hollow goodbyes, Luna Valentine disappeared into the night, leaving me alone with him.
Vincent slammed the shower room door shut, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's get one thing straight. You don't talk. Not to friends, not to cops—nobody. This stays between us."
He flashed his phone like a weapon. "Cross me, and those little secrets of yours? They won't stay secret for long."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. My head bobbed in numb agreement, begging silently for this to be over.
Finally—after an eternity of threats—he let me go.
I didn't breathe until I was outside, sprinting down the empty street, my bag clutched to my chest like armor.
Midnight. No cars. No people. Just the echo of my footsteps and Vincent's voice looping in my skull.
By the time I stumbled into my apartment, every muscle screamed.
I didn't stop moving.
The shower blasted ice-cold, but I barely felt it. I scrubbed until the loofah frayed, until my skin burned raw, until the water ran pink.
Only then did I collapse.
Curled in the corner, shaking, I let the sobs rip through me. The water drowned my cries, but nothing could drown the war in my head:
Call the cops. He'll hurt someone else.
Don't. He'll destroy you.
My phone weighed a thousand pounds. I grabbed it. Put it down. Grabbed it again.
The cycle didn't stop.
End of His Private Swim Sessions Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to His Private Swim Sessions book page.