by Samantha Liu Vagelis Lnz Editor’s note: this story contains sexual violence. In the bedroom, where lacquer walls intersect Heineken traces and discarnate memories, she notices how his nails leave crescents in her hips, red moons that unfurl into blood rivers when his hands drag lower. Everything feels red and much too hot when his hands wrap around every part of her: her belt, her thighs, her skirt — her stupid leather skirt all her friends insisted looked sexy. It dawns o