“Jonah.”
“I’m not watching that! What’s wrong with you?”
“I suggest that you calm down. Have you ever taken acting classes?”
“Of course I have.”
“And were you not expected to watch your work so you could improve?”
I gawked at him. “Are you really comparing the two?”
“I understand that this is difficult, but I must insist.”
In other words, shut up and watch. “Can I have more wine first?”
“Wine is not soda. Drink slower.” But he still went to pour me another glass.
Back on the couch, he pressed on a remote that made Theodore’s photo slide aside, revealing a hidden television. He turned it on and played the recording of me from a few days ago, when I gave up and stopped resisting. I sharply looked away at the pitiful sight of myself naked and bruised. This was a whole new kind of torture. Not trusting The Director’s patience, I took a deep breath before forcing my eyes to return to the screen. “You want me to just sit and watch?”
“How did it usually work in your classes?”
It’s not the same thing!
“We were supposed to stop the video when we had a comment, or the teachers would stop if there was something they wanted to point out.”
“Okay. Then you will stop when you have a comment, and I will do the same.”
I took another sip of wine, glad to feel the alcohol tickling my senses. I never wanted more to be drunk in my life. “You can play it.”
He did, and I watched while gripping the glass tight enough to risk shattering it.
“Here.” He stopped the video. “You refused to look at the camera.”
On the screen, Master Derek was pounding into me while I lay on a wooden table. He was gripping my hair and trying to make me look to the front.
Sick to my stomach, I said, “The lights hurt my eyes. You made them too bright.”
“It’s a dark set.”
“Doesn’t matter. You need the right kind of light, not just any bright light. It also made me look too pale.”
“You are pale.”
“You know what I mean.” Even Master Derek, with his darker skin, seemed milky.
The Director nodded. “I see your point. We’ll adjust that. You were also trying not to shout.”
“So?”
“It made Derek hurt you more. Shouting is a part of this.”
Of course it was. I wished for more wine, but I knew he would refuse. “I’ll try shouting more,” I muttered.
He resumed the video and once more forced me to sit through hell. I tried to pretend I wasn’t watching myself, but it didn’t work.
He stopped the video a few minutes later and said, “When you start feeling pleasure, let it show.”
“There wasn’t any pleasure!”
