You can feel my presence.You see me come into view, walking up to you. You see a whip in one hand, a bottle of oil on the ground and a knife in my han.... Your heart races!!! You can feel it in your throat.Leading up to this moment, you have been so confident in what we have. But the look on my face and the knife and the whip makes you nervous, not knowing what is going to happen.I go behind you, you can smell my cologne and for some reason, it calms you slightly.You take a deep breath.That. I’ll die before I go back. I mean it.’ And that was the most of myself I had ever shared, and I hadn’t meant to. I stalked off into the tiny kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge, pulled the cap off and slugged a pull back. ‘Just tell me one thing,’ he said behind me. I turned and Patrick was leaning against the door jamb, looking dark and pensive. ‘What?’ ‘Why would you go into what you do, if you’re on parole?’ I pulled another beer out, popped the top, and passed it to him. ‘I got. More

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