*Rosalind*
Without another word, he leaves me. I am sprawled on the bed in a heap of sticky, blood-spotted skirts, the room echoing with the crash of the door slamming in his wake. I am surprised it remains hinged.
The burn of tears hurts worse than the burning between my thighs. I've never felt so alone, so abandoned, so hopeless.
Struggling, I sit up and try to secure my bodice with the few buttons remaining. Is he done with me? Am I supposed to stay now? Does my virginity alter the deal?
Surely not. I won't stand for his reneging on our agreement. The money is mine, even if he never wants to see me again. Why is he so mad about it, like I have done something awful? I thought he would be pleased to know that no other man had ever come before him. Isn't that what men want? What they v
