Текст книги "Ravages"

Автор книги: R.A. Padmos

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

It’s just one finger. One single finger. It brings tears to his eyes because ...

How to explain this journey even to himself?

Daniël’s tongue; his finger.

His body has to learn all over again.

He has to learn all over again.

Daniël’s finger exploring him. His mouth, oh sweet mercy, around aching flesh.

He thinks wedding night.

He thinks Daniël.

Then all thinking stops. Only to return when he’s in his beloved’s arms, smiling back at his

smile. He notices Daniël’s still very hard cock.

“I wish ...”

“We will ...” Daniël kisses him. “We have time. But for now, indulge me?”

Steve nods.

“Fuck me with two, perhaps three, of your fingers while I jerk off?” Daniël gets the lube from

the bed table.

“One of our favourites.” Steve holds his right hand up. “Ready when you are.”

And when Daniël lies on his back, his legs spread so beautifully obscenely wide, his body open

and ready for him, Steve feels his heart shatter with joy.

Chapter 26

The contract for the house gets signed and Steve can hardly believe how absolutely not

concerned he is about this major decision. Having to say yes or no to colour schemes and drapes and

furniture, however, is giving him a rapid succession of headaches.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. You’re there, so what more do I need?”

He’s just so tired. Days are overfull, hard work doesn’t always get rewarded proportionally

despite the improvement, and he starts to wonder what it will take for Degaré to give Daniël at least a

chance with the substitutes during a game against a relatively easy opponent. The boy hadn’t been

injured, after all, he’s just out of match fitness, and how is he supposed to get that back if he doesn’t

get to play any matches? As for his own health, the visit to the hospital showed that yes, he had made

progress during the weeks after his release, but it also becomes more and more clear that most of the

still-remaining damage might well be long-term or even permanent.

Somehow, the big things are not that hard. Sharing his life with Daniël, and thus getting

married and buying a home, comes naturally to him. But it’s all the small stuff that makes him want to

hide.

“I’m sorry this is asking too much of you. Tell you what, I’ll do all the talking with the

designer and the contractor. What I like, I’ll show you and there’s no way I can’t read from your face

if you agree with me or not. I just have to see you smile, that’s all.”

Steve feels embarrassed for being so relieved and it must be plainly visible on his face because

Daniël starts to laugh.

“I’m sorry. I’m useless to you at the moment.”

The laughter stops immediately.

“Don’t you realise you’re looking at a man who half the time doesn’t know what to do with

himself because he’s drowning in joy? My days are full of work and training and organising things

and my nights are filled with holding my man. I get to take care of the man I love, counting the days

until we get married and move into our first home, instead of counting the days, and then the weeks

and the months and the years, since … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have started that sentence.”

“You can’t say in all honesty it’s that easy.”

The gentle invitation gets ignored.

“I don’t want easy, I want you. You going through the apartment with less and less need to use

your crutches. You smiling because I showed you the picture of a floor lamp we both like.” Daniël

kisses Steve before he continues. “Yeah, so life is complicated and sometimes I wish we were a couple

of years further down the line so at least we have a bit more certainty about some things, but this is

still the best thing that could ever happen to me. Because you happened to me.”

“You think you can hold me for a bit so I can get those thoughts out of my head?”

They lie on the couch for a while, Daniël’s arms firmly around Steve’s body.

“I wanted to wait till tonight, but I just have to tell you. Degaré wants me to play next Saturday

against Bolton. Well, you know the gaffer, I’ll start on the bench and with a bit of luck... It’s not a

huge game, and he probably wants Levee or Lain rested for the one against Chelsea and Neil has a bit

of a problem with his left calf muscle, but it’s the chance to prove I can handle a match again.”

Steve has to let the words sink in for a moment.

“It must be tough for you...” Daniël starts, but Steve gently places a finger on his lips.

“Hush, love, this is great news for both of us. You are part of it all again.”

“And you’re not ...”

“I said my goodbyes in that park, even before I realised I wouldn’t come out alive. I get to see

you again at Chestnut Road where you belong, on the bench first, but perhaps even playing. Allow me

my happiness.” He smiles at Daniël’s frown. “This isn’t about fair and unfair. Not between us.”

He sees Daniël’s dilemma written all over his face. So he answers the question before it is

being asked. “I’ll be there. We will face this together. And no one will be more proud than I.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s the first time, you and I during a match, you know what they

can shout and chant and sing ...”

“Most will be Kinbridge fans anyway. They’ll be excited to see you playing again. And

whatever will be chanted about us won’t be any worse than what we hear week after week about so

many players for so many reasons. No marital problem, no tragedy in the family, no wag committing a

faux-pas gets unnoticed. Or else a player is too skinny or too fat, too short or too tall. Hey, it’s not

really a secret you and I are doing it,” Steve jokes.

“Talking about doing it ...” Daniël rubs his body somewhat unsubtly against Steve’s.

“The big little boy is getting eager?” Steve cups his hand around the bulge. “I want this in my

mouth between now and ten minutes at the most.”

He considers the seven minutes it actually takes him to get up from the couch, walk to the

bedroom, get naked and feel Daniël’s velvety cock glide between his lips a very acceptable time.

*

The days before the match are being in happy anticipation. Steve watches the training during

the morning so he can be with Daniël when he hits the gym in the afternoon. The need to be in close

proximity to his lover is too urgent to ignore and instead of wondering why this is, he simply accepts

it and acts accordingly. Daniël doesn’t comment on it but he does his job with total dedication, still

sparing a smile and a little wave with his hand now and again for the man who looks up from his

magazine and smiles back, warmly tucked away in a coat and a blanket.

“You’re looking forward to Saturday?” Gabrysz asks after training and lunch.

“Mostly.” Steve nods. “I don’t want the fans and the Bolton players to hurt him.”

“How are they supposed to hurt someone that happy, that much at peace with himself? Where

would they find that kind of power?” Gabrysz smiles at Steve. “And you? How are you doing?”

“Still finding out, I guess. But I’m relieved we’ve found a house so soon and the gaffer is

giving Dan a chance.”

“We’re going to be practically neighbours. Well, I wouldn’t get the car out of the garage to get

from our place to yours and Dan’s. I’ll ask Bronia to cook something typically Polish once you two

have settled. If I offer my help in the kitchen, she might even say yes. Ask the whole Hollycroft KTFC

bunch, wives, kids and all, and make a nice Sunday out of it.” Gabrysz keeps on chattering quite

happily about shops and great little restaurants while they walk to the gym.

Steve doesn’t miss that the big man adjusts his pace, unobtrusively offering support.

Then he feels Daniël’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Danny, Kurt kept you busy? Gabrysz and I were just talking about...”

“I heard the last part of it.” Daniël faces the goalie. “You’re offering to be our Hollycroft

touring guide?”

Gabrysz smiles brightly. “On one condition... we get a guys only night, with beer, pizza and

bad movies at your place.”

“You bet.” Dan chuckles. “But now we’ve got work to do.”

After the workout, they drive to their new house to see how things are doing. Daniël shares a

few words with the contractor and Steve feels safe in the knowledge that the organised chaos will be a

home for them in less than six weeks.

“Things are going to plan. The few roof tiles that needed to be replaced have been taken care

of. The wooden floors are freshly stained, they’re almost finished with stripping the old paint from the

doors and posts, and the supplier promised the tiles for the bathroom will be delivered by the end of

next week,” Daniël says. “I bet by the time we really start believing that everything is going perfectly,

trouble will start, so let’s enjoy this while it lasts.”

It’s all fine with Steve. As long as he has a bed to sleep in at night and Daniël to keep him

company, he can’t even pretend he’s worried about paint and tiles and drapes that might or might not

be available the week before the wedding.

*

“I’m honestly looking forward to the match,” Daniël says as he lies comfortably in Steve’s

arms. “But I’m also bloody nervous. It’s been so long. And it’s going to be a night without you. Don’t

like that rule at all. That takes getting used to.”

“Not being allowed to sleep at your own place, even before home matches. Whoever thought

up something like that? Ah well, it’s all part of being a footballer’s husband. You’ll do fine and what

is nicer than missing someone for a short while and seeing him really soon? We will have different

lives, but we’ll never be really apart.”

It’s Friday morning, the day before the match against Bolton. They had breakfast in bed,

lovingly prepared by Daniël and thoroughly enjoyed by both of them. They know they will make love

later but for now, lying closely together, feeling each other, skin touching skin while they softly talk,

is enough.

Steve kisses his lover. “Thank you for letting me taking care of you, even if it’s just by holding

you in my arms.”

Daniël glides his fingers through Steve’s hair. “One of those old ladies back at the hospital told

me it’s almost never fifty-fifty in a marriage, and that’s not a problem as long as you both honestly try

to give what you’re able to. I can live with almost anything, but not having you beside me is the one

thing that would kill me.”

“It scares me at times, what I mean to you, but ...”

“You can accept it?”

“I’m learning to.”

Their kisses grow more urgent; their touches become more to the point. Soon they thrust

against each other, moaning in need.

Steve feels how his filling cock stabs against Daniël’s soft underbelly. “I need...oh please,

Danny...please.”

“What, Steve, what do you need me to give to you?” Daniël covers Steve’s face with countless

feverish kisses. “There is nothing I won’t do for you, but you have to tell me.”

“Need to be inside you.” The urge is now so strong it spins threads of steel inside his body.

“You read my mind or something? You want us on our sides, or shall I ride you?” Daniël gets

the already half-empty bottle of lube. “I won’t need a lot of preparation. Just want your cock inside me

as quickly as possible.”

“I want to try something else.” Steve gets on his knees between Daniël’s widespread legs.

“What...you mean?” Hope flares up in Daniël’s eyes, immediately followed by concern.

“I’ve worked my arse off to be able to do this. I won’t know what my body is capable of unless

I try. Please, Daniël, give me the chance to try.”

And Daniël smiles and nods his head. “Here, I’ll lube your prick so you can push right in.”

Carefully Steve places the head of his cock against the closed, but relaxed pucker. “Yes?”

“Oh yes.”

There’s the resistance of muscle, not of mind, and when he’s in and can’t go further, he stays

still with the wonder of it all. Daniël’s sweet face, looking up at him, his legs around his middle,

trying not to be a burden, keeping him close and deep.

But his body has its own needs and movement starts. Tentative at first, the edge of pain simply

there, but not really there and finally need and want and love take over and he whispers Daniël’s name

and he hears Daniël urging him on.

“Please ....”

The boy is now begging.

“Deeper, I need your cock deeper, taking me, using me, please ...” Complete surrender in his

beloved’s voice. “Yours, all of me, all yours ...”

Pain and pleasure race through Steve’s body, arriving almost simultaneously at the finish.

Burning stars are shooting with blinding light behind his eyes. His body starts to tremble. Then,

finally, his mind shuts down.

“ ... Steve ... please ... where does it hurt ... please...?”

Everywhere, he wants to say, it hurts every-fucking-where and it’s great and I love you so

much if I would say the words my tongue would catch fire … but he can’t, so he opens his eyes and

smiles and hopes it’s enough.

Daniël blushes. “I can’t say I’m sorry, because I can’t lie to you.”

“Good hurt. I remember good hurt” is the first thing he says when he’s able to say anything at

all. “You helped me to remember good hurt.”

Daniël massages and rubs all the aching spots until Steve’s mind may remember the pain, but

his body no longer feels it. There’s nothing but blissful relaxation; Daniël holding him when he falls

asleep and when he wakes up.

*

It’s the day of the match and Steve sits at what he knows to be his seat for the home games as

long as Daniël is part of the team.

“The paparazzi gave you any trouble?” Neil asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Not more than the usual, but thanks for asking.”

He understands the awkwardness of the situation. What to say that doesn’t sound superfluous

and cheap? How to express this mixture of overwhelming joy, simply because Daniël is sitting there,

with the rest of the reserves, and grief for the loss of everything he hasn’t made an inventory of yet?

Still, the sound coming from the stands when Daniël is being announced with the rest of the

substitutes is more than a polite acknowledgement, and he can’t quite remember if the Kinbridge

Town hymn has always been sung that loudly.

He isn’t ready for the match, for being there. Neil is a good lad, offering him moments of

distraction and the knowledge that he is protected and welcome, but he isn’t Daniël. Steve remembers

the crowd could be anything, from a force driving him on to heights he never before felt were within

reach, to a claustrophobia inducing human wall of hostility, but he had never felt so overwhelmed by

it that he didn’t even know what to feel.

“If the Bolton fans are trying to chant anything nasty about Dan, I don’t think he’s even able to

hear them because of the noise our supporters are producing,” Neil makes a joke.

But there will be away games ...

Not now. He must stay in the moment; concentrate on the here and now.

In his case, it means being aware of Daniël doing his obligatory runs and stretches,

conveniently in Steve’s line of vision. This is his anchor, and a damn sexy one at that. The way that

boy wiggles his arse is both a reminder and a promise.

From Neil’s reaction, he understands when something happens on the pitch that might result in

anything good or bad, but without it he wouldn’t know. It’s too foreign, too unfamiliar in all its

familiarity. He’s happy, though, when Matthew scores, and isn’t oblivious to the biting

disappointment when Bolton equalise three minutes before half-time.

Neil gets him a hot chocolate.

“You’re okay?”

Not really, but how to explain this core of being filled with joy, surrounded by something that

reminds him too much of panic to call it anything else but panic, even though he’s absolutely certain

it’s not panic at all?

Right before the second half, Daniël sits next to him for a few moments, taking Steve’s hands

into his own.

“I’m cold and a bit scared and so happy to see you with the rest of the guys. I really hope you

get to play this afternoon.”

Daniël rubs Steve’s hands warm. “Better? And I’ll ask someone to bring over a blanket and

cushion for you to sit on. I should have thought of that sooner.”

Steve smiles in appreciation. “That’s sweet of you. After a few matches, I’ll be used to it.

You’re glad to be back?”

“I guess I am but it hasn’t sunk in yet. The crowd’s nice, though. The fan club brought our

banner and even made another one to welcome us back: seen it? You heard them chanting your name?

It makes me so proud.”

A quick kiss on Steve’s lips and Daniël is back in the dugout. That will be another photo in the

tabloids, the football magazines, spreading around the internet, Steve realises, but the knowledge

leaves him indifferent.

Within minutes, Francesco Moreschi changes the one all into a lead for Kinbridge Town. Steve

can’t help but grin from ear to hear when he sees the Spaniard-Italian jump up and down like a fiveyear-

old on a sugar high while the others try to congratulate him.

Daniël is still doing his runs and stretches.

“Look,” Neil says, just after another attempt to score from the Bolton striker, “Dan’s being

called back to the bench. It looks like the gaffer wants him in the game.”

Sixty minutes, and the electronic placard goes up. Number 21 out, Number 30 in.

Daniël acknowledges Steve and touches Levee’s hand in passing, making sure the referee sees

him entering the game.

Steve feels his heart expand with pride and love.

Daniël gets the welcome of clapping and shouting and chanting and singing. For minutes, his

name is all there is to hear. Waving through the stands it forms a sea of sound. He gets showered with

affection and admiration. The love, courage and utter humanity he has shown over all those months

are being rewarded in the best way the fans know how.

And they carry Steve through the remaining thirty minutes of the game.

Chapter 27

“More?” Daniël’s voice is an open invitation; his middle finger teasing against Steve’s

prostate. “I think you’re ready for two fingers. You think so, too?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Steve tries to open his legs a bit wider, but Daniël stops him with a calming

gesture.

“Don’t do that. I want this to feel perfect for you, without even the good hurt.”

Steve nods, accepting his lover’s lead in this, joyfully giving over to the fingers exploring the

most intimate part of his body.

Two fingers means there is some stretching, but it’s ever so gentle and whatever minute hint of

pain might form gets soothed away by his beloved’s gentle tongue.

“I want to be ready to feel your cock inside me…”

“I’m just as eager for the wedding, or should I say the wedding night, as you are, but I think we

still need a lot of practise.” Daniël has a downright mischievous grin on his face.

“You think we really should wait for that one night? I’m not a virgin, remember, although it

has been more than six months since my last time ...”

“The first time you had a man inside you …”

Almost tangible knowledge moves between them, but Steve knows neither of them is able to

touch it.“

You believe I’m not ready yet to try it again?” Steve moves his body ever so slightly in a

counter rhythm to that of Daniël’s fingers. “God, Danny ...”

“Like it when I do this?” Daniël does something and it’s so subtle Steve’s not even sure it is

actually something, but it makes his body quiver with pleasure.

“Does it feel this good when I fuck you with my fingers? And I still want you to answer my

question.”

“Honestly? I believe I’m the one not ready yet. And yes, it feels that good. Why do you think I

keep asking for more?” Daniël presses his lips against the taut scrotum, retracting his fingers, but

pushing them back in as soon as Steve makes a sound of disappointment.

A few moments later, he licks the come from Steve’s belly, his fingers still as deeply inside his

lover as possible without pressing the knuckles of his hand against the tender flesh. Then he gets out

as slowly as he got in.

Steve smiles, sated and content, but not missing that his lover is still in need of completion.

“Stay on your knees between my legs and jerk yourself off.”

It’s a softly spoken order, but it makes Daniël blush in excitement.

“You got such a beautiful cock. I love the colour and the texture. Love it when it’s hard and

ready, but love it just as much when it’s resting against your thigh...Love the smell and the taste … I

love every aspect and detail …” So rarely he finds the words, even before speaking became a slow

task, too reserved as he is in the verbal expression of the sexual element of his love for Daniël. Doing

is limited only by the boundaries of his body; actually saying it in great detail is a whole different

ballgame.

“Gets me all horny when you talk dirty to me. I felt your eyes on me when I did my stretches.

Fuck, it feels great to look good for my man.” Daniël pumps his shaft a few times, his gaze never

leaving Steve’s face. Shameless lust burning in grey-blue eyes.

“I thought my heart would burst with pride when you walked on to the pitch to take up your

position. That handsome, courageous, loyal, talented guy is mine and everyone at the Chestnut Road

Stadium knows it. Everyone watching the match on TV knows it.”

“They can look all they want, but there’s only one who gets to touch me.” Daniël keeps moving

against his clenched hand, gaining speed, but not yet going for the final lap.

“Thrust your cock against the palm of your hand. Show me how you’re going to fuck me on our

wedding night. Don’t hold back. Keep your eyes open. Keep them wide open.”

The head is now wet with pre-come, peeking out from Dan’s fist when he moves downwards

and pulls the foreskin back. “Like this?”

Steve places his hand over Daniël’s moving fist, but doesn’t direct it. “Come for me.”

All the muscles in Daniël’s body seem to contract, his throat vulnerably exposed, his mouth

open in a near silent moan. His come warm and sticky on Steve’s body. But the way he crawls blindly

against his lover, exhausted and spent, trusting him for safety, is perhaps an even greater gift.

*

Sunday moves slowly and gently for them. They have a long shower, brunch with all the

trappings, take a short walk through the neighbourhood to get a bit of fresh air and talk about

everything and nothing. There are a few people who do look at them with a hint of recognition in their

eyes, but hardly anyone bothers them. There’s a complimentary remark about Daniël’s return to the

game, a shy request for an autograph from two wide-eyed teenage girls, but that’s the extent of it.

Daniël gets a call from his family about yesterday’s match. That reminds him he promised a

few friends to let them know how it went. He even takes time to update his blog.

“Want to read it? I specially used a bigger font. I’ll make dinner in the meantime.”

Steve looks at the screen.

“It looks good to read? Oh, and there’s a video of the short interview I gave after the match,

too.” Daniël kisses him on the cheek.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He reads, soon discovering Daniël not only adjusted the size of the characters, but also tried to

use short sentences with familiar words, without sounding childish or too simple. This is like the arm

his lover offered when they took their walk in the neighbourhood. How big is a heart when it’s capable

of such small and gentle acts of kindness?But that, at least, is a question Steve has known the answer

to for a long time.

He reads the entry, smiles.

I did a lot of running up and down the pitch. I also did a lot of stretching. Because it was cold.

Because the gaffer told me to. And because Steve thinks it looks sexy.

He tells about how it feels to enter the pitch, the mixed emotions, about the knowledge that

while the game was still the game, for him everything had changed.

I felt so proud because the man I love could see me play football. I felt so alone because the

man I love will never play football again.

Daniël enters the room with a bowl of salad. “The potatoes and baked salmon will be done in a

few minutes. I’m afraid the sauce won’t be home-made.”

He puts the bowl on the table and looks over Steve’s shoulder. “You like what I wrote?”

Steve nods. “Strange, how we had no idea when we played our last match together. But how

could we have known?”

“Everything could have been a last, but it wasn’t.” Daniël kisses him. “I’ll be sad for a while

longer about you not being there with me on the pitch. Even if we perhaps would have played for

different clubs against each other next season.”

Perhaps…

“You watch the video while I get the rest of our dinner ready?”

Why does he get butterflies in his belly seeing Daniël, in jeans and sweater, hair still wet from

the shower, on the screen of the laptop, when the same Daniël is busy in the kitchen, half a dozen steps

away?

What was going through your mind when you entered the game?

“It felt great being allowed to play again. I miss Steve terribly. He should have been with me

on the pitch, defending our half, but at least he was watching the match from the stands. That’s what

counts more than anything.”

You had expected this welcome from the Kinbridge Town fans? There was even some applause

from the Bolton supporters.

“I didn’t know what to expect. Of course, they lost count at the club of how many letters and

emails of support they received, so I hoped for the best. This was even better.”

What are your expectations for the future? As a Kinbridge Town defender, that is.

“You’ll have to ask Degaré about that. I hope I can stay for a while longer, proof I’m worth the

trust and support the club and the fans have put in me during the past months. I think I already showed

some of that today.”

He feels Daniël standing behind him, his fingers playing with his hair.

“I still have a fat Dutch accent.”

“I know. Sexy as anything.”

Daniël closes the laptop. “Care for some food?”

Steve’s actually famished. Over the last couple of weeks, his appetite has been returning.

Being active most of the day and rebuilding at least some of his muscles might have something to do

with that. Daniël hadn’t said much about it, but the admiring touches and looks that shamelessly speak

of lust are obvious enough.

But it’s more than that, more than a body, if not returning to normal, then at least functioning

better; healthier than it had been for a long time. It’s also that he’s looking forward to their marriage

and moving to the place that’s going to be their first home. It’s the joy of seeing his beloved boy

active as a professional sportsman once more. It’s finding his place in the world again, even if he has

no idea yet what he will do once there’s nothing left to practise, to fix or to heal. But he remembers

Death being his companion all too well to be worried about what to do with his life. He’s aware of the

huge difference between him and Daniël in just about every aspect of their lives, but they both have to

fight their own battles, even if they stand shoulder to shoulder like those warriors from ancient times.

“How’s your level of energy? You need to rest?” Daniël casually asks while he takes the plates

to the kitchen.

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“I might be.”

Steve is positively certain Daniël’s shaking his jeans clad booty on purpose when he leaves the

room.

“I have to admit, you did look edible during that interview.” Steve follows Daniël, still

luxuriating in the feeling that, with a bit of support from whatever is strong and stable enough to

provide support, he’s able to get around the apartment without his crutches. When Dan stoops to put

the dishes in the machine, he just has to cop a feel.

“Sometimes I miss the times you pushed my jeans down and then yours and you fucked me

against the kitchen sink with the help of a splash of olive oil. No planning, no talking, just two guys

fucking.” Daniël turns towards Steve and takes him in his arms. “Sorry I said that. I’m just being

stupid. Makes me sound like I’m not grateful for what we have.”

Should he be grateful? Should they?

“What about we take this to the bedroom? I know where I want your perky little arse.” Steve

grabs a handful of said arse, while he pushes himself suggestively against his lover.

Daniël is as close to giggling as he’ll ever be. “You didn’t say that ... perky little ...”

Steve just has to kiss him on the nose. “I didn’t. You just imagined it. Now, shoo, there’s a big

soft bed waiting for us.”

Daniël rides them to a sweet, glorious orgasm, leaving them sated and so drenched in love it

fills the very heart of them.

“So perfect,” Daniël mumbles, already half asleep when he finally allows Steve’s now soft

cock to slip out of him.

And it is.

*

Two days later, they get a phone call informing them the trial is about to start and even though

they had known for weeks, months even, that one day this call would come, it still leaves them silent

for minutes.

“So this is it. Crown court the day after tomorrow. You’re going to give evidence,” Daniël says

quietly. “And you’re not allowed to refuse.”

“That’s how the law works. I get that.” Steve feels so calm and detached he knows something

must be wrong.

“There will be a cross-examination and they will force you to remember everything in detail. It

will happen all over again. It’s like you’re entering that park again. You won’t run away because you

don’t know. They will hurt you again. You will say goodbye to me again. I will see your broken body

again. Isn’t what you told the police enough? What about the medical reports? What about all those

pictures? God knows what else they have, like DNA and other stuff. That should be enough to put

those bastards behind bars for the rest of their lives, shouldn’t it?” Daniël’s hands move erratically

through the air in acute panic. It’s almost like he doesn’t even realise Steve is with him, waiting until

the stream of desperate words has come to a halt.

Steve has no thoughts concerning what is about to happen, it’s simply not real enough, even

with all the preparations and explanations given by the ever-friendly and patient lady of the Witness

Service. Danny is upset, that message burns itself into his brain, overriding everything else.

Daniël clutches his arms around him in fierce protection. “I can’t even promise you that I

won’t let them hurt you without lying.”

There’s so much hopeless pain in his voice.

“Is my love going to be enough when they drag you through hell again?”