Hurt for Me

by Heather Levy

I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end. —Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

“Hurt is temporary, but harm is long term. And harm can also go much deeper than physical pain.

Then again, she found agency by beating the shit out of powerful men, which probably equated to thousands of dollars saved in therapy costs.

She was a survivor, but sometimes she wondered at what point a person stops surviving and starts imploding.

“You won’t need that. You only need your eyes and ears. When we’re at the party, you will not speak unless I ask you a direct question. And when you answer me, you will include the phrase ‘Yes, Mistress.’ You will not interact with anyone else. If someone touches you, I will take care of it. You’ll need to take all the tough man, patriarchy shit you have and tuck it away for the night because you will be mine for the evening.”

She helped him remove his clothes, running her hands over his well-toned body and pausing at the bite mark she had made on his upper arm. She pressed her fingers into the bruising it had caused, gently at first and then harder, and Dayton sucked in a sharp breath, one of her favorite sounds.

That kind of pain was evergreen.