I turned for what felt like the millionth time, curling into myself as a sharp pain twisted in my lower abdomen. "Fuck," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the silent room.
This was hell.
I could already tell that this was going to be one of those nights—the ones where the cramps would be unbearable, where I would toss and turn until exhaustion finally forced me into a restless sleep. But sleep wasn’t coming.
Another sharp wave of pain hit me, making me wince. I let out a shaky breath before forcing myself to sit up. Lying in bed wasn’t helping, and I needed to put on a pad before I stained these perfectly white sheets. That was the last thing I needed.
Some men were disgusted by periods, and I had no idea how Heinrich felt about them. Maybe he was one of those guys who acted like periods were some kind of horror movie scene. Or maybe he didn’t care. Either way, I didn’t want to find out.