remember when

i showed up in high leather. skirt, boots, cleavage. lipstick. it took longer than i wanted. we reviewed the last pieces of information, side by side. i kept my boots on.

you had me read it aloud. i remember hesitating when i said your name. you urged me on quietly, reminding me it would most likely be the last time i had the freedom of saying it.

we printed it out. we looked it over, one more time.

you picked up an ink pen, and signed your name. you handed it to me. i think you said something about it being my last opportunity to turn back, but i'm no longer someone who second guesses myself, so i took then pen, leaned down over the paper, and signed.

i hadn't yet dropped the pen when your hand was around my throat, crushing me against the wall.