" I saw her chest heave as she tried to control her emotions, "than risk putting yew frew it again."I was soon returned to my cell - our cell. I forgave Steve for getting me into that mess without question or need for further explanation. I knew she loved me, that she would do what she could, within her abilities to protect me. When I felt well enough again, which took several months; she gently, at first, showed me her love in ways that helped me forget the horrors of prison, of what might come, of the next time Preston ordered a full cavity search.As soon as I could, I wrote and spoke to Felicity, and waited. And waited. She'd done all he could for Sarah and I before I was goaled. Being gay too, she abhorred the fact that sexuality had been a major factor in the severity of my sentence. She had became an invaluable ally. She convinced a new and more sympathetic barrister, a woman this time, that I'd been convicted of terrorism on the basis of virtually non-existent circumstantial. At some point she noticed her face was pressed against the wall and the only things keeping her from collapsing were his hands holding her as he continued his relentless thrusting. She let out a long, ragged breath.“Stop. No more. I can’t,” she whispered, her lips practically kissing the wall. He eased himself out of her. She started to fold. She wanted to. The floor sounded nice. Somehow, she ended up scooped into his arms instead. She lay her head against his chest and let the tears flow.He stood there and let her tears run their course, holding her, keeping his thoughts to himself. It was not his place to judge, or even to try to soothe. He was there to serve and he knew her well enough to know that trying to offer comfort would not be received well.In a rare moment of proactive choice, he laid her out on the bed carefully. She looked up at him. “You are too good to me,” she said, her words slurred like she was drunk.“One of us has to be,” he said, a small smile coming to his.
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