“Is that hard enough for you?” The next blow cut her other thigh. It was equal in intensity, and she had to work not to cry.

“No,” she said.

This time it caught her squarely across her backside, and she thought she had been cut to the bone. This is a punishment, she told herself, but she could feel the heat between her legs. “Not hard enough,” she said. She heard him bring the belt swiftly back, and she wrapped herself around that sound because she knew, to tolerate the next, she would have to cling to something, and then she felt the air rush around her shoulders and the wind knocked out of her body. She sucked for breath and instinctively tried to pull out of the ropes, but he had tied her tightly, and she could do nothing but let the blows fall swiftly on her body. She could hear each cut through the air, again and again, but worse were his soft grunts, how hard he was working to beat her. The pain was intense, and she tried to focus. This is what you almost did to Tyler, she told herself, but soon it was just pure pain and with each blow she cried out until she was crying, real tears, her body being thrashed, his body thrashing hers, harder and harder and harder.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. He dropped the belt and walked out of the room.

She stood there and suddenly felt more alone than she had ever been. She slid to the ground, her wrists still tied tightly to the bedpost and cried. Her nose was running and the tears mixed with her snot and saliva, and she couldn’t wipe her face. She sobbed and pushed her forehead into the hard wood.

It was a long time before he came back, and when he did, he bent tentatively beside her and rested his head heavily on her shoulder. They stayed like that for what seemed hours. There was nothing to say or do except breathe, and when he finally spoke, his voice seemed far away and unfamiliar.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t … please.”

“I …”

“Please, Devesh, please.”

He nodded and untied her wrists, and she realized she must have been pulling hard on the ropes because her skin was red and rubbed raw along the circles of bone. He pulled a blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her, and pulled her close to him. He reached from behind her and intertwined his hands in hers. His arms were the same dark brown, his fingernails the same milky white. Nothing had changed, and she realized that the world which she had hoped to tip had barely quivered.