“I want you to tell me how much you want it.”
His fingers tapped my tear-stained cheek. His thumb dug in the other side on my jaw. He shook my head a little side to side, exaggerating the move I already made: my shake of denial. And my body shook in want. And I was so ashamed. But I wanted it more than anything; I wanted the belt. It hung around my neck where he had left it.
“I want to hear you say it. Come on, say it.”
We walked. Him forward. Me back. Baby steps towards an undeniable wall. Tears streamed down my face.
“Say it. Come on. Say it.”
He tapped my cheek a little harder as I panted with the effort of speech.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Say you want it. Say it. Say you want me to use the belt.”
The buckle jangled a decorative promise at my throat. His shoulder loomed large, a pyramid to obscure the sky, a secret tomb through which I’d see what’s written in the stars.