Her breath caught, but slowly—obediently—she nodded. She turned her back, pressing her palm to her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut. She leaned against the wall like her knees might give out.
And that was when I moved.
I crouched beside him again, grabbed his shirt, and lifted him halfway off the floor until his body dangled awkwardly between my knees. His breathing was ragged, broken. He stank of piss and fear and fresh blood. He wasn’t even resisting anymore. He was done.
But I wasn’t.
My voice dropped to a whisper as I leaned in close to his ear.
“She begged you not to touch her. You heard her voice crack. You heard the word ‘please.’ And you smiled.”
He didn’t respond.
“You told her you didn’t care who claimed her,” I went on. “You said you’d f**k her until she learned how to be
