Stefano
I love the sound of Corey calling out my name just before she comes.
This time I’m the one who feels like crying afterward.
Not that I know what it is to cry. I had that urge beat out of me before I hit the ripe age of six. But my throat and face are tight with what can only be described as sorrow.
I’m wrung out. Maybe it’s guilt from the whipping I gave her. Maybe I can’t stand that she tried to leave me.
I rise slowly, barely fitting between the wall and Corey’s body. I cup her face. “What am I going to do with you?” I ask sadly.
She nuzzles her face against my hand. Her head’s lolling like her neck can’t work to hold it up.
I peer up at her hands and reach behind myself to pry the tape off. Then I tug her to a chair and pull her onto my lap. She comes willingly, leaning h
