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Summary
For Carol, the next best thing to being good was being put in her place. If she couldn’t allow herself surrender, too preoccupied with her worthiness to let go enough to succumb, then she’d let Helen make her.
Helen scoffed, scowled for a split second that stretched. Then, movement, “Brat.”
Pain, sharp and biting. Carol’s cheek stung, smarted in the shape of Helen’s palm. Carol whimpered like she might cry, and maybe even felt tears well, but there was no true upset. Not like this.
(carol receives an email; helen picks up the pieces)
