Name it.
I throw out a figure, padded and tripled. He doesn't even blink so I shrug and say I'm trying to save my family too.
Done. But the caveat is you go home with the sun.
I nod. He's grown intemperate over the past little while, always wanting me to stay through until sunrise as if he is afraid of the dark.
Who isn't?
I'll double it if it makes you feel better.
Yes, please.
He twists my hair up in his hand and puts his other hand under my chin, cupping it, lifting my head up so I have to look at him. What would make it better? Name it.
I don't know, Diabhal. Just be nice.
Sometimes it can't be helped, Babydoll.
Try for me? Please?
He doesn't answer because he needs a kiss and then I am pushed to the ground. When he is happy enough I am hauled back up by my arm. He wipes off my mouth with his hand and backs me over to the bed, grabbing a velvet box from the nightstand. I am turned and pushed down face-first. I wait as he leans down and fastens something around my neck and then I am turned over again. I pull my hands up to touch it. It's a necklace with a charm. I can't tell what it is but he won't let me up to look in the mirror.
When I wake up in the morning, crawling out of his hold, the first thing I do is cringe at my reflection in the mirror. I look ruined and wild. Destroyed but not a write off. We can rebuild her, I think. I lean in and look at the pendant. It's a gingerbread man made of white gold. A visual reminder for him to listen to the safe words. A marker for the future. I leave it on the bureau in the tray beside his Breitling as I dress quickly.
He protests from his dreams. Stay.
Going.
I love you. I'll transfer the money when I get up.
Keep your money, I tell him, but he doesn't listen. By lunch time the money is there. I get an email from the bank to tell me. I go and log in and it's five times what he promised (and thirty times more than I needed) which was already far more than I have decided I am worth.
