Count To Ten

She tied me to a chair and broke each of my fingers, one by one.
As she did it, she looked me in the eyes, and her smile got wider and wider with every finger she broke.
She held my hand, my left thumb slipped between her lips and she sucked on it slowly.
“Don’t!” I said.
I felt her teeth against my skin.
“This is going to hurt,” she said. And with my thumb in her teeth, she broke it clean.
Tomorrow, she will sign my casts and leave.
And she’ll wait for the day they come off again.