"Patrick, seriously. I'll do whatever you want," she says. "If you don't want to go to dinner, we won't. I mean-"
"It's okay," I stress. Something snaps. "You shouldn't fawn over him . . ." I pause before correcting myself. "I mean . . . me. Okay?"
"I just want to know what you want to do," she says.
"To live happily ever after, right?" I say sarcastically. "That's what I want." I stare at her hard, for maybe half a minute, before turning away. This quiets her.

Later, predictably, she's tied to the floor, naked, on her back, both feet, both hands, tied to makeshift posts that are connected to boards which are weighted down with metal. The hands are shot full of nails and her legs are spread as wide as possible. A pillow props her ass up and cheese, Brie, has been smeared across her open cunt, some of it even pushed up into her vaginal cavity. She's barely gained consciousness and when she sees me, standing over her, naked, I can imagine that my virtual absence of humanity fills her with mind-bending horror.

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