I spent my weekend in the bath with an Israeli.
The water was so hot I could feel my skin blister and burn, but when I pulled my arms out from the lavender folds of the water, they just came out pink and smelling clean.
The Israeli spoke to me. His voice rose up from the drain and he told me to kill myself. His words soaked into my pores and he left me sweating in the heat of the bathroom, so I waited.
I waited for him to stand up and hold be under, press a foot into the middle of my back, maybe tangle a hand all up in my hair and grasp my head, just to be sure I wouldn't put up a fight.
I wasn't afraid of him, so I waited.
We simmered and stared at each other, the Israeli and I, both too timid to make a move. He couldn't deal with the guilt, and I was too afraid to dive under the water alone and admit that it was my time...
I knew it was, but I stood up out of the bath and looked down at the empty tub. All that I could see was the water and me.
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