He wasn’t a good dancer, never had been. He moved around the room just enough so she didn’t bring her hand down on her phone. She’d opened her email application, bringing up the draft, the message that could end his life.

With one tap, she’d told him, “It will all come crashing down.”

Scott was noticing something about his wife: something that made him wonder where she could possibly take this next. She was growing tired of the games. Even her smiles, when he really studied them, seemed forced; it was like she was play-acting her sadism, the same way she’d pretended during their whole relationship.

A familiar surreal note touched him. This was his life, dancing awkwardly so his wife didn’t ruin him. He spun from one side of the room to the other, his legs aching, feet throbbing.

Casey clapped her hand against the bottle, her rings making a tap-tap-tap sound against the glass. But there was something off about the gesture. Again Scott intuited she wasn’t enjoying this. It was more like she thought she should have been. It reminded Scott of the times he’d attended plays with Natalie, clapping enthusiastically for her sake even if he’d found the performance boring.

But who was Casey performing for? Herself?

It wasn’t like he’d complain if she stopped.

After taking another swig, Casey sat forwards. “On your knees. Now.”

Scott’s instinct was to immediately obey. He remembered the pulsing agony of the Aga’s heat against his hand, the shame of Casey mounting him, of her moaning in his ear, of his own tangled grunts in the last moments. It was all too much.

He couldn’t do this anymore; it wasn’t like the long breaths punctuated by quick pain underwater. This was just drowning.

“No.”

Now she looked interested. “No?”

He stared at her as steadily as he was able. Which, admittedly, wasn’t impressive at all. He could only hold her gaze for a second. “Stop it, Casey. Just stop it.”

“This is your grand plan, is it?” Placing the wine bottle on the floor, she stood and walked over to him. “After all you’ve made me do, your big plan is to say no. And I suppose this is the part where I respect your bravery, where I develop a new admiration for you? Maybe you’ve been thinking all you need to do is show me you’re not afraid, you’ve had enough.”

Reaching up, she tenderly trailed her fingernails down his cheek. “The problem is, Scottie dear, I can see how terrified you are in every single look, in every bead of sweat on your forehead. I can smell it, even. Big tough man, big strong man Scott, scared of a tiny little woman.”

The words hurt him somewhere deep, somewhere ignored.

He groaned, thinking of the other games: handcuffing himself to the bed, what came after, as she stared dead-eyed down at him. “Surely this is enough.”

She moved her hand to his neck, tightened her squeeze, not enough to cause him pain. Not yet. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”