Page 29 of Oh, Sacred Dark
That, at last, made Roman pause. The memory choked in his throat—the last time Jeremy had put him on his knees, slapped him so hard and so long both his eyes had swollen shut.
What if the doctor asked about the details? Roman would have to admit how bad he really was. What kind of scenes he needed to be kept under control.
The silence stretched, eventually broken by Dr Elise. “That’s okay. Tough subject, right? Unfortunately, this is an important one, so let’s just go by months. More than one?”
Roman nodded.
“Three?”
Another nod.
“Six?”
Another.
“Nine?”
His chest feeling like it was going to explode, he shook his head.
“All right. Roman, thank you for answering that. Another tough one now, maybe, but just take your time, okay?”
Roman was trying not to start trembling again. He felt hazy all over.
“Before these nine months, when was the longest you spent without a scene after your first Drop?”
He didn’t want to admit it, how often he needed to be corrected, but he didn’t want to engage in another hellish guessing game. “Three weeks.”
“Thank you. How are you doing? Should we take a pause? Do you want to have Tyler here, or someone else?”
“No. No, I’m okay.”
“All right. Let me get you some juice, okay?”
Roman sat as she fetched him a little carton of cranberry juice, sipping dully at the tasteless liquid, mouth dead from all the talking, the reliving of awful things.
“We’ll be done soon, okay? Just one more thing regarding scenes. After them, how do you feel?”
Roman blinked slowly. Sometimes, in dreams, people would talk to him, noises that sounded like real words but made no sense. They’d talk and talk, getting angry when Roman couldn’t reply, but they never made anysense.
This question reminded him of that.
“I…” How was a sub supposed to feel after a scene? Good subs felt good, probably. But bad subs? “I don’t feel anything.”
“Nothing? No…anxiety? Or relief? Or upset? Anger? Fear?”
Roman shook his head. He didn’t feel anything, just an emptiness that got bigger and meaner and darker every time.
“All right. Okay, just a few more questions, easier this time. How is your diet?”
“Good. I eat in the Main House.”
“How many times a day do you usually eat?”
Afrissonof unease tightened his shoulders. “Three, but Tyler gave me permission.”
There was a small pause, a little surprise around the doctor’s eyes, and the unease metastasised into panic.
“I swear. You can ask him,” Roman pushed.
