Margaret decides what my body is allowed long after she has finished checking my pulse. The examination room door locks from the inside, and I have never once reached for it.
She commands me onto the table with that precise voice, the white streak in her dark hair catching the light as she reaches for the silk. I obey because the denial she offers is the only thing that holds me together, each edge pulling me deeper into the control I secretly crave to quiet the old fears from my orphaned years.
The silk cravat waits to bind my wrists above my head, and as her touch promises another hour of edging, I realize I would risk the entire clinic's reputation just to stay here, desperate and hers.
