By Colleen Foley
I would normally have cleansed the boy’s
perceived disgrace using sex. It masks the discomfort of my feeding.
This one’s mind would snap if I tried that.
Brow quirked, I
studied him. I could trundle out the soothing massage I sometimes used
for children and elders, but he wasn’t going to tolerate comforting. That smacked too much of “not my fault”.
He could never punish himself enough…so I did it for him. I bound him
to a wall and gave Hunger free reign, lancing guilt with bared teeth.
He screamed. But he survived, and by doing so, remembered his strength.