The Institute, Daddy Issues(82)

He nod­ded gravely. “Very well. Then let us be­gin.”

“What—now?” I shif­ted un­com­fort­ably on the pad­ded exam table.

“Do you have bet­ter time in mind?” he asked, rais­ing one eye­brow. “Berkley is wait­ing to see how we leave this room. Wait­ing to see if I have done this to you.”

“Yes…yes, I know.” I took a deep breath, try­ing to still my pound­ing heart. God, I couldn’t be­lieve I was agree­ing to this and yet, what else could I do? I didn’t want to flush the whole case down the drain—I felt like we were close here. We had a moral ob­lig­a­tion to keep go­ing and bring Berkley and every­one who was work­ing with him to justice.

But there was an­other, darker reason I wasn’t will­ing to leave the In­sti­tute yet. I knew that once Salt and I left here, we would go back to our nor­mal work­ing re­la­tion­ship. He would just be my part­ner and my friend—noth­ing more. And as sick as it soun­ded, I found I liked be­ing mishka and hav­ing Salt as my Papa.

Maybe “liked” wasn’t the right word—maybe it was more like I needed this. It was as though Salt was filling an empty place in­side me and giv­ing me some­thing I had been look­ing for since the age of nine when my bio­lo­gical father left. A strong man—one I could de­pend on. One who loved me more than any­thing else in the world. I knew it was an il­lu­sion but I didn’t care—I wanted the fantasy to last, at least a little bit longer.

And so, when Salt asked me if I was will­ing to do this—will­ing to let him do what had to be done in or­der to stay—I agreed. I prob­ably would have agreed to any­thing to keep him as my Papa just a little while longer. Just to keep be­ing his darling little mishka. I knew it was wrong but the feel­ing of be­ing a Little to his Big was just too ad­dict­ive—every bit as ad­dict­ive as the drug we had come here to stop.

Are you crazy? whispered a little voice in the back of my head. Are you really go­ing to do this? How will Salt feel about you when this is all over? How will he look at you later if you let him do this to you now? Won’t you lose his re­spect? How can he trust you to get his back in a bad situ­ation if you’re weak enough to need to be the sweet little mishka to his big strong Papa?

I knew the voice had some valid points, but I couldn’t help my­self. I didn’t want to lose Salt. At the same time, though, I wanted to stay at the In­sti­tute and chase this feel­ing just a little while longer.

I made my de­cision.

“Do it, Salt,” I said again, lift­ing my chin. “Just hurry up and do it.”

“No.” He frowned at me. “I do not wish to hurt you—we will go slowly. As slowly as you need.”

I shif­ted again, mak­ing the white pa­per of the exam table crackle. I was try­ing hard not to think about what was about to hap­pen, try­ing not to dread it…and I was fail­ing miser­ably.

Are you really go­ing to let him do this? whispered an in­cred­u­lous voice in­side my head. Are you ser­i­ous? Have you seen the size of that thing he’s about to put in you?

“Mishka?” Salt mur­mured, look­ing down at me. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know—I’m try­ing to be,” I said hon­estly. “I just want to get it over with. But Salt—”

“Call me Papa,” he said firmly. “While we do this, I am Papa and you are mishka. Is bet­ter that way. Easier to sep­ar­ate this from…the rest of our lives.”

So he had picked up on how the names changed the game too. I felt a little shiver run through me.

“Now start again,” Salt said sooth­ingly. “Tell me what is wrong, but tell me as mishka would.”

I closed my eyes for a mo­ment and took a deep breath. When I spoke again, my voice soun­ded higher in my own ears. Younger.

“I’m scared, Papa,” I heard my­self say. “Scared that this will change things.”

“Change things how, my little mishka?” he mur­mured, strok­ing my hair.

“Change…change how you feel about me,” I ad­mit­ted. “Change how we are to­gether.”

“How we are to­gether is good—per­fect,” Salt as­sured me. “And noth­ing will change that.” He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. “Noth­ing could make your Papa stop lov­ing you, mishka. You know this.”