Текст книги "Ravages"

Автор книги: R.A. Padmos

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

suddenly, the phone is pressed against his ear. “They want to say hi.”

A female voice, heavily accented and speaking in high-school English, greets him.

“Congratulations Steve. I’m so happy for the both of you. Daniël told so much about you in the last

months; it is as if I already know you. But I am sure we will meet in person before the wedding.”

After her a male voice with the same accent came on the line. “Be good to my boy, that’s all

I’m asking of you.”

He says something polite in return. Are they really okay with their eldest child, their only son,

sharing his life, and his bed, with a man? A man who was picked up by an ambulance in a

park...cruising...he hadn’t been cruising...but the press...the internet...

He’s too tired to keep his thoughts in line. Sleep comes easily enough, but with a fitful edge

and when he wakes up with a shock Daniël has to reassure him that he’s just having a bad dream.

Not long after the morning rituals of having a wash and eating breakfast, a mountain of a man

enters the room with (Steve soon learns) hands that make him feel muscles he can’t remember he ever

possessed, and make them all better again, almost within the same touch.

“This is just preparation for the real work. Your work. For now, your muscles have to wake up

to their task or else we do more harm than good. So I’ll start with giving you a daily massage. I will

also give you instructions for some light exercises you can perform while staying in bed. Just as

important, your brain needs to learn to do its job again. Restore the connections where possible. Work

around the damage if there’s no other choice. And they will. Trust me, they will.”

The big, big hands feel their way over muscles and tendons and joints.

“I can only do so much. You are familiar with your own body ...”

Steve shakes his head. “I was.”

“You will be again. You have my word on that.”

Steve knows this is true, but he’s not certain he wants it to be true. He will learn the difference

between the pain that is simply always there, and the out of the ordinary signal that something is

acutely wrong. He will remember that he could perform certain tasks that he’ll never be able to do in

quite the same way. And still he will perform them. It makes him wonder if there was an exact

moment when he said good-bye to his old body, or if that moment is still to come.

Later that day, Arnaud Degaré visits him, before all others, as is right and proper, since

Matthew obviously couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Daniël is out for a cup of coffee and so Steve has the

chance to ask the gaffer, once again, for a favour.

“He’s very welcome at the training. No need to ask. Anthony Levee has a slight problem with

the tendon of his left knee. I’m sure he’s happy to stay with you for a few hours. And Daniël will get

used to leaving you for a few hours in the hands of the hospital staff. We’ll just have to give him a bit

of time, oui?”

“I sent him away, gaffer, yesterday.”

“To save him.” It’s not a question. “And, was he grateful?” This is a question and a good one

too.

“No.” Not much more to say about that.

“Why did you try it?” The mild, non-judgemental tone of the voice almost breaks him.

“They still want him with the club?” He has to ask it.

Degaré smiles. “It seems our young Daniël discovered his main priority. It’s not easy, is it,

knowing you are that priority?”

Steve blushes warm enough to feel the heat on his skin, a reaction he can’t quite explain to

himself. Degaré stands up from his chair, bows lightly towards Steve, and gives him a peck on the

forehead. “Don’t try to give him what he doesn’t need.”

*

Later still, he does his exercises. They will decide the rhythm of his day for the coming weeks

and months. Since life has been given back to him, since Daniël thinks he’s worth the risk of a sea of

time unimaginable for someone hardly in his twenties, it’s the least he can do. He has to make his best

effort to be a husband who’s as healthy and mobile as possible; anything less would be unacceptable.

There is no debt between them, Steve knows that all too well, but in the end, love weighs so much

heavier than duty.

So he sets his first goal: get into that wheelchair. That’s easy enough. Takes him a day’s worth

of energy, lasts all of five minutes, but what glorious minutes. Getting on his feet will be, doubtless, a

whole different story. But he’s been out of bed, and he’s got to start somewhere. His lover’s smile is

worth every single painful step on the long road he has to travel. If he never walks again, it’s because

he’s truly defeated.

Talking Daniël into going to training again isn’t as hard as Steve feared.

“Anthony and you will have so much to talk about.” Daniël leans his face very closely against

Steve’s. “You love it, don’t you, when I get back and smell all nice and sweaty. If you promise to do

the exercises for your legs, I promise to skip the shower after training.”

He kisses Steve’s lips. “God, I miss it so.” There’s a hint of sadness and shame in his voice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ....”

“What, sweetheart, what didn’t you mean?”

“You know, put pressure on you.”

“You don’t think I miss it too? Miss holding you and touching you and being touched by you?

It meant so much to me, when you got into bed with me. It’s what I needed more than anything.”

“Your skin under my hands feels all warm and dry. Or sometimes cool and wet when you come

out of the rain. Your lips and tongue are making a trail from my neck to my tail-bone. I’m falling

asleep with my face against your belly; your face against my belly. In the early morning, we wake up

in the same position and continue where we left off.”

“I’m so sorry.” Steve breathes the words against Daniël’s mouth.

“Don’t even think it. You were no longer in immediate danger, but still so very far away from

me. I didn’t know what to do with myself, with my hands. There was so little I could touch, except for

this tiny part of your arm.” Daniël kisses Steve’s arm before he continues. “Sometimes I was so

desperate for any kind of contact that I would get my face really close to you without actually

touching, so I could get as much as possible of your scent. I had to know it was still you, under the

stink of disinfectants and infections.”

Steve starts to stroke Daniël’s hair. Melkboerenhondehaar the boy calls it, hair of a milkman’s

dog. Too dark to be blond, too light to be brown and very comb-resistant. How could he not love it?

The boy leans into the touch. “I’m not a saint, you know.”

Steve tries to keep his voice calm and accepting. “I won’t blame you if you might have found

distraction, comfort perhaps, in the arms of someone else. I can imagine, with you being here all the

time, and some of the pretty nurses, or perhaps a visitor ...”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one for me and that’s that. I didn’t ask you to marry

me because I think it’s romantic. It’s just that at night, when I hear you softly breathing and it’s all

quiet and I know you’re in the other bed and I can’t even touch you and at such moments, I get so fed

up with my own hand. I sometimes feel so impatient and needy and goddamn horny and I’m so sorry.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, because he doesn’t know what to think. The words he hears

are precious, like the one saying them, but he has a hard time getting his head around them. Being

loved by this generous soul is something he can understand, even if he thinks it has mostly to do with

the way Daniël simply is and not as much with being deserving of that kind of boundless affection.

But being desired on such a physical level by someone attractive enough to have all the choice in the

world is a whole different tale. It’s not that he doubts the sincerity of his lover’s feelings, but it’s just

so easy to imagine it could have been someone a lot more handsome.

“Anthony will be here in a few minutes. You go and have fun. And I’ll do my exercises.” He

can’t help but notice Daniël’s watch still lying on the table ever since he took it off, because time

pretty much lost all meaning.

Daniël sees the direction of his stare. “You leaving this hospital will be the moment I’m going

to wear my watch again.”

A head peeks around the corner. “I’m here, lads. So keep yer hands above the blankets.”

Anthony smiles brightly. “I need coffee. Oh, and Dan, is it alright if I use yer laptop?”

“Good morning to you, too. There’s a Thermos of coffee on that table. One of the nurses

brought it specially from home, and it’s halfway decent. And yes, you can use my laptop. There’s a

guest account, so go ahead.” Daniël turns to Steve again and kisses him with unhurried tenderness.

“See you in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t forget what you promised.”

Daniël looks back from the door, “About skipping the shower? I won’t.” He gives a wink, and

is gone.

Anthony pours some coffee, sits down and clears his throat. “How did it happen? You and Dan,

I mean. I didn’t know we had men like yer two in our club. In any club, for that matter.” The question

is blunt in its honest curiosity.

“I fell in love with him. He fell in love with me. We somehow managed to get the message

across. And if you’re very curious, he kissed me first.”

“Now that doesn’t surprise me one bit, with yer being quiet and invisible most of the time,”

Anthony reacts. “But with Dan being all skinny and boyish, don’t yer miss curves and, yer know, girly

bits?”

“Don’t you miss hard muscles and, well, boy bits?”

Anthony breaks out in roaring laughter. “Point taken.”

“Sorry you had to hear it this way, like we didn’t trust you and the others.”

“With the jokes we made in the dressing room and the chants from the stands, it’s not like we

were exactly giving you and Dan the idea it would be okay to hold hands during half-time break.”

Anthony takes a swig of his coffee. “I read what Dan wrote in his blog about what happened in that

park, that yer were just walking there, not to you know what ...”

Steve feels himself getting silent and withdrawn. Anthony seems to notice the change and

hastens to say: “Those fuckers had no right, even if yer had been trying to pick up some guy. And I

believe yer that yer were just walking there. I might have been in that same park meself a couple of

times as a kid. I had no idea the Queen Elizabeth’s that sort of place. Hell, if they would do the same

thing to every player in the league who’s cheating on his wife...Yer know what I mean to say. Yer

don’t go around beating people halfway to their graves because yer don’t like what they’re doing with

their pricks.”

Steve feels pity for the man trapped in his own good intentions that are somehow going all

wrong. “It’s alright. Really, it is.”

“Just want yer to know I’m happy for you and Dan. True gold that boy. Makes yer wonder how

many of the wives and girlfriends would do the same thing if it happened to one of us.”

“Surely ...” Steve tries, but Anthony cuts him short.

“There are some good, solid marriages, make no mistake about that, but how many of the

pretty birds would even look twice at us if we had been on the dole or with a dead end job?”

Steve nods. There’s no denying the facts.

“I saw him, when all of us had a hard time believing yer would stay alive. Sorry about that. I

hoped you were in some sort of better place. But that boy...It broke me heart, it did. The gaffer made

sure every day there was one or two of us checking on the two of you. He sat there, talking to yer. Like

yer could hear it.”

“I could. Not at first, and for a while I only recognised his voice, but nothing of what he

actually said, not even what language he spoke.”

“Can’t even imagine what happened to yer.”

“You think I can?”

“I guess not.”

Silence moves between them in a quiet, not unpleasant way. Steve leaves Anthony with his

own thoughts for a while. He’s starting to comprehend there are others, too, who somehow have to

learn to live in a world that isn’t quite the same any more. Some might hang onto the illusion that it

couldn’t happen to them, because they are not ‘like that’. Others might feel hurt for being kept out of

the secret. Some might feel aversion, and in turn feel guilty about that. All will have to deal with a

theoretical question that has become reality. No longer are they talking about some imaginary guys

who might not even be there. Now it’s about two of their own. Blokes they trained with. Shared the

highs and the lows of the season with. Shared dirty jokes with. Shared a changing room with. And it

would be terribly naive to think it stops at Kinbridge Town Football Club. Somewhere, in clubs no one

would ever guess at, some fully inconspicuous men are very, very scared.

Should he have said something to Gael, the last time Daniël went training? But how do you put

into words the lost ability to hear between sounds that had absolutely no meaning other than simply

being human? About how something in Matthew’s voice and Gael’s voice changed when they talked

to each other? How he thinks it still happens, but no longer is able to hear it because language has

come back to him? Are they even aware of it themselves?

Anthony’s voice shakes up his thoughts. “Didn’t Daniël say something about exercise?”

He’s grateful that for ten or fifteen minutes, he can fully concentrate on putting his leg muscles

to work. It looks like nearly nothing, those small movements, but it’s just as necessary as the more

spectacular job waiting for him in the physio room.

A nurse brings a healthy snack. Every few hours, he’s supposed to eat or drink something to

get enough proteins inside his body to make the hard job of growing muscle and being mobile again

possible at all. His body is starving, but that doesn’t mean he feels like eating. Still, spoon after spoon,

the custard with added vitamins gets eaten.

After that, he’s so tired that half of what Anthony tells him doesn’t even register.

“I guess I’ll leave yer in peace for a bit.” He opens Daniël’s laptop. “I’ll keep meself busy.”

As always, Steve isn’t aware he moves from being drowsy to actually falling asleep. But a

sharp, angry voice wakes him up.

“Don’t they have a fuckin’ heart? Bleedin’ pictures ...”

Fear creeps in. “Daniël?”

A gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing, lad. Just me getting a bit worked up. Yer fella’s

back in a good hour or so. Yer need a nurse or somethin’?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’m alright. You said something about pictures?”

“Yer know … the usual paparazzi stuff.” Anthony closes the laptop just a fraction too hastily.

He’s as close to blushing as Steve has ever seen him. Steve knows he’s lying, but doesn’t say anything

about it.

It’s time for another cup of whatever it is he’s supposed to drink. After that, he tries for a few

more minutes of exercising his leg muscles.

“Yer set a date already for the wedding?” Anthony asks while Steve stretches and relaxes his

feet.

“From what I understand, Dan needs to do a bit of paperwork, because we can only get legally

married in Holland and officially he lives here, in England,” Steve explains. “But he’s a Dutch citizen

and for me EU rules apply, so it should technically be okay. Recognition in England is another matter,

but we’ll deal with that later.”

“You’re right about wanting the real thing and not some stupid compromise to keep the

religious people happy.” Anthony doesn’t need two seconds to have his reaction ready.

Steve appreciates it deeply. “We haven’t really talked it over yet in detail. It was kind of

unexpected for both of us.”

“Yer just get out of hospital first. I can imagine yer not being up for some huge party.”

Steve doesn’t care either way at this point. He just knows he wants to be with Daniël. A short

ceremony in front of a civil servant, putting their signatures on the dotted line and going to their

shared home. Unnoticed by everyone. But that’s probably not quite how it’s going to happen. Not with

their relationship no longer being their own private business.

Daniël steps into the room with a bright smile and warm kisses. He smells so wonderfully of

fresh air and grass, Steve can’t stop himself from pressing his nose right into the crook of his

beloved’s neck.

“Now yer behave, lads, till I’m gone.” Anthony’s eyes have those little lights that tell he’s

actually having fun with the whole situation. “Before I forget, Neil and Dag are planning on visiting

you tomorrow after training. They’re asking if yer want them to bring something specific with them.”

“They told me, yeah.” Daniël nods.

“And, thanks,” Steve adds.

“For what?” The other man looks sincerely puzzled.

“Everything.”

Anthony shrugs, obviously not sure how to react. “I’ll see yer both next week or so. Oh, and

Dan? We could do with another defender. Heard yer any good, so yer available by chance?”

“Liverpool gave you a thrashing last Wednesday. Four against one? Painful.”

“Don’t remind me...” And he’s gone.

The door hasn’t even closed when Daniël kicks his shoes off and gets in with Steve. They

snuggle close together, finding places for arms and legs, their bodies heavy with desire.

“You smell so nice,” Steve whispers, tasting the salty clean sweat.

The kisses Daniël gives him taste better than any food ever could. He decides to stop worrying,

at least for today, about the gap where teeth should be, about bones sticking out or about how there are

enough scars to form a language of their own. Instead, he concentrates on the velvety glide of his

lover’s tongue over his lips. The soft puffs of Dan’s breath against his cheek. The soft moan when he

answers his kisses.

It gets all warm and fuzzy in his belly, and feelings that are not forgotten – never that, but

perhaps he should say they are ‘stored away’ – start bubbling up again. The way Daniël’s breathing

changes, the way he moves against him, tells him it’s exactly the same with his lover.

“Time for your snack Mr Gav...oops, excuse me.” The nurse carefully places the plate with

pieces of diced fruit and some yoghurt on the bedside table.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, we didn’t mean to...” Steve tries. A fear that he doesn’t quite

understand is tightening his chest.

Daniël seems to notice something is wrong, because instead of getting up at lightning speed, he

wraps his arm more tightly around Steve’s body in a gesture of protection, like he’s shielding him.

He’s totally focussed on his lover, all but ignoring the nurse.

“You’re not the first patient who needs a good cuddle, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. But

perhaps it’s best when either you or Mr Borghart give a word to one of us, so we can give you a bit of

privacy whenever you want to talk or something. We need to be able to do our work, of course, and we

appreciate common decency, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. The first of the nursing staff saying

anything bad about or to you for showing affection has some answering to do.” She smiles in

reassurance and is gone.

Daniël keeps close to Steve for a few more minutes before he gets off the bed again. “You’re

okay?”

Steve nods, while tasting the first piece of fruit his lover offers him with his fingers. Tinned

pineapple. Quite nice, actually, both the fruit and the way he gets to eat it.

“Is it okay if I take that shower now?” Daniël asks and fifteen minutes later, he sits nice and

clean next to Steve’s bed. “I bet you and Anthony had a lot to gossip about.”

Their hands find each other on instinct while they talk about the day. It’s all relaxed and calm,

almost like they’re sitting in their own living room, simply enjoying an hour of each other’s company

before it’s time to go to sleep.

Steve has no idea why he says what he says; he only knows he doesn’t stop himself. “Anthony

said something about pictures on the net. I heard it when I was half asleep. He sounded so angry. I

asked him what made him upset and he lied to me about it.”

Daniël weighs his words carefully; Steve sees it in his face. “I don’t want to lie about it, too,

even though I understand why he did. But I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please, wait until

tomorrow?”

Steve thinks he already might have an idea about what Daniël is going to say, about what he’s

going to see. Yes, it can wait until tomorrow.

Chapter 15

Tomorrow becomes another day and then another. Days full of hard work. Work outside the

walls of the room he’s been dying in, living in, for weeks, months on end. It’s not as scary as he had

feared it might be, sitting in the wheelchair and being wheeled through the corridors. He has been in

hospitals before. But behind this, there’s outside and for the first time since that night, outside

becomes more than a vague dream about the future. Outside also visits him in the form of a man who,

with practised ease, gets a camera in front of his face and snaps a few shots of Steve in his wheelchair

and Daniël walking next to him. The man doesn’t wait until he’s thrown out by security.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Gavan, Mr Borghart,” the nurse accompanying them says, visibly

embarrassed by what happened. “We’re trying so hard to keep those people out. I shall report this

immediately to the head of security.”

“At least you’re wearing that nice new dressing gown I gave you two days ago,” Daniël jokes,

although his eyes are flashing with anger. “But you’re okay?”

Steve shrugs. It’s unavoidable. This will be the first published photo of them as a couple. No

doubt with an article that’s a handful of speculation, based on a more than generous interpretation of

the truth. And faster than you can say ‘cheese’, scans of the article will be spread all over the internet.

So much for trying to live an unobtrusive life.

For a fleeting moment, he’s reminded of the pictures that made Anthony curse and Daniël look

so unhappy, then all of his concentration and energy is taken up by the daunting task of making his

body his own again.

He feels like a stranger to himself. All the things he did because he simply did them, because

his mum and nan had taught him to, because teachers and coaches told him so, because only months

ago he had still been wired to do so, have to be relearned. He knows about injuries and being ill and

having off days, but this is not like all those times his mind and body weren’t quite on the same page.

This is learning a language that he used to speak fluently, but has all but forgotten, all over again. At

an age that most professional players at his level, however reluctantly, start contemplating how to

slowly wind down their career, he has to start at first principles.

One day, he’ll watch the videos made during dozens of matches and see with his own eyes the

man he used to be, and still the memory of his body will be no more than the words from Daniël’s

mouth, the look in his eyes. He knows he’s the man running there, trying for the net, passing the ball

to a team-mate with better chance of scoring, tackling an opponent, arguing with the ref, going down

and getting up again. That’s in another part of his brain, which has no knowledge of the memory of his

body. It’s like looking at photographs of his first baby steps. He knows it’s him, but it’s just from

hearsay. Daniël will tell him how it was, and those words will have meaning.

Daniël once said, “You have your own special kind of walk. Whenever I see that shuffle, I

know it’s you, even when you’re a tiny moving figure on a TV screen and I can’t see your face or shirt

number.”

Steve also remembers how Daniël, during one of the training sessions, was standing next to a

goalpost, observing him for minutes on end. Not saying anything, not even pretending he wasn’t

watching. When Steve, in the privacy of his home, asked him what he had been doing, the boy smiled

and said, “Enjoying the view.”

He wants to get up, take his beloved by the hand and walk out of the hospital, like nothing bad

ever happened. But if it ever comes to that, them walking out of the hospital, holding hands like a

couple of teenagers in love, it will be exactly because something bad has happened to them. Honestly,

would they have had the courage, the imagination otherwise? Or would they have waited until later,

later, later … only to see their love slip away, with the next transfer window as the deathblow? But he

still wants it, holding Daniël’s hand and walking out of the hospital, and that’s a feeling he’s not

willing to let go of any time soon. It makes him work harder, try one time more than he thinks his

body is capable of.

It also makes him extremely grateful for sitting on his bed again, leaning into the pillows,

sipping on yet another protein– and vitamin-spiked shake.

Daniël opens his laptop. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to write in my blog for a bit. Your

fans have to know how hard you’re working. When you’re a bit less tired and you feel like it, it might

be fun to take a look at some of the things they’ve written about us, and to us. You know they even

made a few songvids? I usually pretend it doesn’t exist, but Ray Portland told me a few days back

there’s some really nice stuff around. Must be, if it’s got you in it. Some are a bit sentimental and

sweet enough to break the enamel of your teeth, but...yeah...they mean well, other people. Perhaps not

all of them, that would be a bit much to ask, but so many more than we feared seem to be genuinely

accepting we are a couple.”

“That’s good to hear. Perhaps, in time, it’ll be a bit easier for others. So a handful of guys can

stop pretending being happy with a trophy wife.”

Steve remembers Anthony’s anger, Daniël’s promise. “And those other pictures? What are

they about? Something from inside the hospital? That’s it, isn’t it? Someone has taken photos of you

right after Degaré called you. When you were in distress. Of me when they brought me in with the

ambulance. How did they even know it was me? Police radio?”

Daniël’s hopeless shrug gives Steve an indication it’s even worse than that. An idea forms

inside his head, but he dismisses it as nearly impossible. “I don’t remember seeing anyone using their

phone to take pictures. They were too busy breaking my bones and...well you know.”

Daniël takes a deep breath. “They did take pictures. A few minutes of video too. At the very

end, when you were no longer able to ...” His voice wavers. “I assume they wanted to watch their

happy memories together and be proud of their hard work. And if they uploaded it on the net, other

people could also enjoy the results of their efforts. Although several of the guys told me there were a

few discussions on message boards and blogs if it might be a very clever hoax. Some elaborate sick

prank.”

The boy pauses for a few seconds before he continues. “After making their masterpiece they

went away, leaving you for dead. I’m trying to understand the way such people think. Did one of them

simply take out his mobile phone and take pictures? Or did someone suggest they all should use their

camera, like, for fun and keepsakes? I’m willing to believe they kept on kicking you out of blind rage,

long after you were down. Because they smelled blood. Pack frenzy, or whatever it’s called. But what

possessed them to look at a suffering human being and take photos, even make a video of it? They’re

good quality pictures too, so there were no shaking hands and they were not in a hurry. The one with

the camera in his hands even took care to make sure not even the nose of one single boot got on a

picture by accident.”

Daniël looks so helpless in his effort to comprehend the incomprehensible. He talks and talks

because he doesn’t seem to know what else to do. But his face betrays that he doesn’t understand his

own words.

Steve reaches out to take his beloved’s hand. “That must have been so hard for you, being

confronted with such images. And poor Anthony. Who else has seen it?”

“You should rather ask who else hasn’t seen it. They tried to get it banned, the Kinbridge Town

lawyers, but it’s impossible. If it had stayed local it might have worked, but the pictures and the video

were spread all over the net before we even realised what was happening.” Daniël pauses again. “The

days after the photos and the video became widely known, the mailboxes of the club crashed. It was

all over the news. Everywhere. There were Dutch and Irish journalists coming over to ask the gaffer

and Matthew about their opinion on what had happened. Mum, dad and Naomi could hardly get a foot

outside home without being pestered. I heard from the others every football forum, fan group and

what-have-you went crazy. As if they finally understood it was real pain happening to a real person,

not some horrible story they could choose to play down. Matthew and Degaré made an appeal to our

fans to please no longer make those pictures available. From what I heard, the fans of most other clubs

spread the word as well. Same goes for the national teams. It worked somewhat, but Anthony saw it

had been uploaded again on yet another site. Server could be anywhere in the world. He got so angry

about that. And you know Anthony Levee when he gets worked up about something ...”

“Can you show me those pictures and video, please?”

Daniël shakes his head, his eyes pleading with Steve. “I don’t want you to look at them. They

will hurt you as much as they hurt me. And I want to keep you from hurting as much as I can. Isn’t it

enough knowing they exist?”

“You shouldn’t have to carry this alone. Besides, what’s the alternative? Never read another

paper or magazine for the rest of my life, because of what they might have published? Not using the

internet ever again because you’ll never know what might be behind the next link? I tried so hard to

stay invisible and you can see what good it did to me, to us.”

The first things he notices are his shoes. Specks of blood on them, but still the shoes he wore

when he took that walk through the city. The jeans are torn, dark wet with blood, as are the jacket and

shirt. Bruised flesh on display. The man, and on a rational level he knows he is that man, is lying on

his back, limbs spread out in grotesque disorder. There are several photographs from different angles.

All being variations on the same theme.