And only when the man was broken in every way imaginable, when his body had wasted itself into nothing but a shell for a shattered mind, then, only then, she’d release him back into town. Give him a nice little job—maybe a waiter, maybe a secretary—something subservient, boring, soul crushing. Of course, she’d check in on him each week. Hopefully, if she’d done it right, there would be just enough of his mind left to remember who she was and all that she had taken from him. And he would live out the rest of his days as a pathetic scab of a human being. That was how you dealt with men like
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