We knew about things like that, of course. Men had all kinds of desires, and if you let them, they would take that desire and put it squarely on your back, making it yours to carry. They would hand it all right over to you, this giant mess you could never hope to contain or control. It would take you over, if you let it. And I knew their desire was not always in a straight line, that sometimes it could fold back on itself, eat itself alive. It wasn’t enough for them to want some of you; they needed you to want some of them, to care enough to hurt them, or let them hurt you.
