She took no pity on me and urged me to rougher heights. She spewed curses that reddened my ears. Every time she opened her mouth, every time she gasped and moaned, I felt like I was being stabbed. Over and over again. Those eyes – those asymmetrical eyes that refused to close – were the worst. They widened, making me feel like I was fucking a putrid fish cast up on dry land. Cold, scaly, twitching.

Everything happened fast. My brain went into overdrive. I thought: just finish it off and you’re free. At the end of our little role play, my face was close to hers. She smiled, cruel and content, as I caught the odour of an animal that has just died. An unbearable, bitter taste spread in my mouth. Without a chance to flee, I vomited my guts up onto the floor.

Ariah got to her feet and slipped on her robe. I was still gasping for breath when she stood over me and folded her arms. She looked as if she were faking sympathy towards a slave. She laughed hysterically, then said, ‘Not too shabby. Now go and clean up your puke. And come back tomorrow.’

—

And so it went. I kept visiting Ariah’s house, lurking in her wardrobe, then attacking and ‘raping’ her. For the whole first week, I had no appetite. The inflamed tumour of her face loomed on my dinner plate in lumps, mocking me. I threw up again and again. And wept. One night, as my wife applied the face cream that nourished her beauty, she asked what was so draining about my new job.

‘I just need to get used to it,’ I lied.

At night, I tried to make love to my beautiful wife to forget what I had been through during the day. But there was always a point when her perfect features dissolved into the revolting face of Ariah. The fragrance of my wife’s body – a soft, clean lavender – evaporated, only to be replaced by the stench of animals at market, of stagnant water churning with blood.

After the first time, I thought I would quit by the end of the week. Instead, I was surprised to find within myself an astonishing tenacity. By the second week, I’d learned self-deception: yes, her face was a horror, but my misery would come to an end once I collected all my money and found another job. I inured myself to disgust, habituated myself to rape, as though I’d always longed for such ugliness.

In the third week, I started to note major changes within myself. I started to believe in the mantra that she commanded me to memorise: Ariah, Ariah, I want to pulverise you. Not only could I perform my role as the rapist of a hideous woman without nausea, but now I could stare into her eyes, searching them for an explosive depravity.