She tests the edge against her thumb. A thin line of red blooms on her skin.
"Now I see everything."
I shift in my chair.
I should probably be concerned about the fact that watching Keira embrace this side of herself is doing things to me. Things that are deeply inappropriate given the man strapped to a table who I've been torturing for a couple of days now.
Then again…
Not inappropriate at all.
"You used to say I was less than nothing." The scalpel hovers over his chest. "Just a toy to use. A hole to fill. Property to be disciplined."
She leans down, close enough that he has no choice but to see her.
"Do I still look like a toy to you, Ewan?"
She makes the first cut. It's shallower than I expected—a thin line across his sternum, precise as a surgeon's.
"That's for the first time you hit me," Keira says.
"Do you remember? The night before our so-called wedding. I wasn't feeling well. I didn't want to have dinner. And you backhanded me so hard I saw stars for two days."
Another cut. Parallel to the first. Deeper this time.
"That's for every time after."
Cut.
"Every slap."
Cut.
"Every shove."
Cut.
"Every night you climbed on top of me when I told you no."
I watch her work, and I feel…pride.
Not the normal kind. Not the kind you're supposed to feel. The dark kind. The possessive kind. The kind that makes me want to drag her off that table and worship every inch of her until she understands exactly how perfect she is.
Later. She's busy right now.
Calder is making unmistakable sounds of pain.
"You know what the worst part is?" Keira pauses, the scalpel hovering. "It's not the hits. It's not the…other things. It's that you made me believe I deserved it."
She leans close to his ear.
"I didn't deserve any of it, Ewan. But you?" She drags the scalpel slowly down his ribcage. "You deserve every second of this."
Keira works with intention, not rushing. Each cut precise. Each one accompanied by a memory, a moment of pain she's finally releasing from where she's held it hostage inside her own body. I watch her transform, shedding the tentative, broken version of herself that was locked in Calder's compound with every slice. Some might call this sadistic, but this isn't just torture.
Not to anyone who can see it as clearly as I can.
Keira is reclaiming herself.
