He nods once before hiding his face again, pressed into his arms. "I'm doing it all wrong." And hasn't he known that all along? The real punishment is remembering. What would she care that he lets strangers fuck him, hit him. That got nothing to do with her. She wouldn't care about the stabbing pain in his chest, the bruises, or his sore throat.

"How can I do it right?" Just once. He'd like that. Do something right. He shakes his head. Like he's ever going to manage that. "Fuck."