“Then, five years ago,” I whisper, “she had an ‘appointment.’ That’s what she called them: ‘appointments.’ This guy was a regular, a rich one, and he had specific tastes. She would never tell me straight up, but I sort of got the idea that he liked to be really rough, and that she didn’t love it, but the money was very, very good, and she always figured she’d find a way out if it went too far.”
Like he knows I need it, Matvei’s arm tugs me even closer. I’m practically in his lap now, the rain still soaking us through to the bone.
“They were at a hotel. He was drunk and pushing the boundaries. She tried to say no, and that’s when he hit her. She wasn’t expecting it. She lost her footing, went down hard, and cracked the back of her skull on the lip of the tub.”
I’m crying again. Quietly,
