“Because you don't know how much I want you to torment me right now,” I say in a voice that sounds like someone else’s. The words leave my mouth, but it’s the darkness who has emerged. “It hurts to be stuck in this position … but I like that it hurts.”

Nas flinches, his head slightly jolting back just enough for me to see it. He looks at me with a strange expression that I can’t read, and I’m suddenly worried. Is that fear? Dread? Regret? His eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

“Alina,” he finally says. “When you think about BDSM, how much of your focus is on the pain of it?”

The word pain reverberates in my head, making me feel weak and warm all over.

“All of it,” the darkness answers, revealing my truth. I swallow hard as Nas raises an eyebrow, his expression finally settling.

“Wow,” he says. “You’re a masochist, aren't you?”

“What?” I say. “This is BDSM, so don’t I have to be?”

“No, your desire is more than just BDSM. You like pain specifically. Everything else on the BDSM spectrum is just icing on the cake for you, but the foundation of it all is pain. By definition, you're a full-blown masochist. Wow.”

I think about what Nas just said, and I don't know how to react. Is that what the darkness inside of me is? The voice in my head is my masochism, begging to be defined, accepted, and allowed to roam freely? I never had it defined for me, and just hearing the word makes me feel … better.

“Masochist,” I say, just to hear it come from my own mouth. “I’m a masochist. This whole time, I didn't know what it was, but I get it now. I crave the pain. I like to be hurt, I want to be bound and tortured. I love being hit, slapped, choked—anything that causes me pain. It’s true. I’m a masochist.” I look up and find Nas staring at me with an amused, joyful grin. “What? Is this a problem for you? Is it bad?”

Nas’s grin transforms into a complete smile that reaches his eyes. “A problem for me? Alina, you're like a dream come true. I’ve met plenty of people who were into kinky things, but never a true masochist. It’s like you were made for me.”

I exhale a loud sigh of relief. “Really? You don't think I’m fucked up?”

Nas grins as he straightens his back, his entire body full of confidence. “I do think you're fucked up, and that’s what makes you special. I’m fucked up, too. The world’s most interesting people have always been a little fucked up. Let’s see just how fucked up we can be together.”