“Catch!” He throws the ball at me, laughing. I jump for it, and my five-year-old hands close around it, snatching it from mid-air.

“I got it!” I feel so proud of myself, so full of joy. “Father, I caught it on the first try!”

“Good job, son.” He grins at me, and in that moment, I love him. His approval matters to me more than anything else in the world. I forget about the frequent bite of his belt, about all the times he yelled at me and called me worthless.

He’s my father, and in that moment, I love him.

My eyes fly open, and I stare blankly at the wall, still holding Nora. I can’t believe I ever loved that man. He’s been the subject of my hatred for so long, I’d forgotten there were those kinds of moments.

I’d forgotten there were times he made me happy.

Would I make my child happy? Or would he or she hate me? I told Nora I would make an awful father, but I have no idea if that’s the truth. For the first time, I try to imagine myself holding a newborn baby, playing with a chubby-cheeked toddler, teaching a five-year-old how to swim… The pictures come to me with surprising ease, filling me with an unsettling mixture of fear and longing.

With a desire for something I’ve never known.

A stifled sob startles me, and I realize that it’s Nora.

She’s crying, her slim body shaking in my arms. I can feel the wetness from her tears on my neck, and it burns me like acid.

For a moment, I had forgotten how much she doesn’t want this child.

How much she doesn’t want a child with me.

“Hush, my pet.” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I can’t help it. The unpleasant tightness in my chest is back, and with it, the irrational urge to hurt her. Fighting it, I say in a softer tone, “This is not the end of the world, believe me.”

She stills, falling silent for a moment, but then another sob racks her body. And another.

I can’t take it anymore. Her misery is like a hot knife plunging into my side—agonizing and maddening at the same time.

Thrusting my hand into her hair, I close my fist around the silky strands and pull her head back, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes, wide and shocked, meet mine. I can see the tears sparkling on her lashes, and the sight enrages me further, awakening the beast inside.

Her lips tremble, parting as if she would speak, but I lower my head, swallowing her words with a deep, hard kiss. Lust, sharp and strong, kindles in my veins, hardening my cock and clouding my brain. I want her, and I want to punish her at the same time. I can feel her struggling against me, taste the salt from her tears, and it spurs me on, heightening the twisted hunger.