I push him onto the bed and climb on top of him, kissing his neck. We make love on the bed. I have never slept with anyone besides R. It’s different, it’s nice.

As we go to leave the apartment, I smell something; something familiar that makes my hair stand on end. R smokes these brown cigarillos. They aren’t very common, and I just know he is close by and that he knows.

He told the truth about me never getting away. It took him less than three hours to find me. There is nothing I can do now. He is here and it’s over. Does he have someone following me around? I wonder if Simon has realised we have been found. I should never have dragged him into this.

The front door bursts open with such force I let out a yelp. One of R’s men has kicked it at the lock. R walks in and two men in black knitted masks follow behind. I smooth my clothes and hair instinctively, hoping my appearance doesn’t displease him. As if somehow that will save me. I realise instantly how stupid that is. I don’t feel like I recognise the men, but then I rarely go onsite anymore and of course I can’t see their faces.

They each grab one of Simon’s arms and restrain him as R approaches me. There is no point playing games anymore. R looks and sees the bags on the floor by the door; he knows we are running away together.

My cheek burns before I even notice R’s hand as he swipes it across my face with such force it affects my hearing. My ear is ringing. I stumble, grabbing onto the doorframe for support.

R grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me into the bedroom. The men follow, pulling Simon along with them. I wonder if R can tell we slept together.

I watch as Simon futilely begs for my safety, not for himself, which makes me sad; he doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen. I know if I say anything, if I defend Simon in any way, that it will just make things worse. When R is angry like this my protests never help.

R tells the other men to hit Simon and he instructs me to watch. R says he is making an exception for me. He doesn’t usually get involved in the dirty work, but he wanted to see how this played out.

He doesn’t look at Simon as they hit him – he looks at me. He wants me to know this is all my fault. He doesn’t need to press the point home. I already know.