“I’m here for your rage and your fear and your shame. Vent it on me, Greer. Strike me with it, burn me with it, scratch it into my skin. Cry it, whisper it, scream it. I want it all. I’ll take it all, because I promised to care for your pain and your pleasure, did I not? And isn’t this pain?” I give him the smallest of nods, and he continues, “So then doesn’t it belong to me?”