I’d almost forgotten entirely about the marks he’d made on me until later in the shower. I spent most of the time trying to scrub at the ink on my arm, when suddenly I remembered to look at what he’d written lower. I hadn’t thought much about it, assuming he’d written something else that had to do with Japanese culture. Now when I examined the marks, I saw they were actually English and they formed two letters—D K. Donovan had written his initials on my flesh.
