My dear readers, this chapter is a though one, I have to admit.
Warning: it contains torture, humiliation and mutilation. If you don't want to read it - it's not required for the story - just jump down and read the last few lines.

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The words just won't come out. I'm unable to speak, unable to say it out loud, unable to find words to describe the things that have happened.

Audrey is standing in front of me, expectantly, awaiting an explanation, why I'm so reluctant to let her get even closer. No, it's not what you think it is, Audrey. It's not my HIV infection. That doesn't change a thing. Even if I hadn't become infected, you'd also not get that intimacy with me that you're longing for.

She still sticks to the promise that she has given me a few days ago: she doesn't ask. At least not aloud.

I still hold her arm back. Her hand lies at my belly.

Her green eyes stare into mine. She expected something good to happen when she brought me out here, but now I need to break the news to her that it's gonna be right the opposite.

I let her hand slide down a little, an inch, two, then a little bit more.

Watch, how her features change. Her mouth opens up, for a mute breath.

I feel that her hand down there almost doesn't move. She doesn't dare explore what I show her. Is that decency? Courtesy? The fear of going too far, because she clearly sees that I'm on the edge already?

What happened to you… she breathes.

Damn it, Audrey, I hoped you wouldn't ask. Isn't it enough that you know now, what the result is? Do you really want me to go back there, get my memories out and see it all again in front of my mind's eye? I've tried to push this away, for months now. Four months, I was even pretty successful in not thinking back.
Until the moment when I realized that you wanted me to get closer to you. I've tried everything to keep you away. I just didn't have the heart to treat you badly… then you would've stayed away.
For a few days I believed that telling you about my HIV infection would help me keep you away… at least far enough away that we'd not reach this point.

Jack… what happened to you? She asks me again.

She tries to pull her hand back, but my grasp around her forearm is still tight. You asked me. You wanted to go there. Now don't think you'll have an easy way out. There's no way out of this, Audrey.

For me, there never was. The moment I ended up in their hands, they had already drawn up how it would end for me. I didn't know what would await me, when the Russians threw me into that sea container and shipped me to Africa. I expected… no, feared a lot. But not that.

When the hatch got opened up, the guy told me that the day would come when I'd beg him to kill me. Do you know how many times I had already heard that sentence? And not believed in it? Because any time you go through this, any time you end up getting beaten, electrocuted, lashed or shot or something else… if you survive it, you think you've seen it all. That it won't be any worse. The mind has no memory for pain. You can't even imagine that there are worse things out there because you've already been at your personal maximum.
I thought I was strong, because I had seen so many bad things already.
Bullshit.
Maybe I was cocksure of myself.

A week later, I finally begged him to kill me. The worst hadn't even yet come. They were out for revenge. There are so many ways you can torture and humiliate a person… even if you're obviously not allowed to kill your victim.

Close your eyes. No, better don't, it'll only let the pictures come back. Open your eyes. There she is. Still expecting me to say something. Look up into the sky. There's just blue and the sun that stares down mercilessly.

I'm back in the middle of that square, bound to that pole. That's the same sun, which almost burned me to death four months ago. After the fifth day I only hung in the shackles, because I could take no more of their beatings and the poisonous scorpions. The African sun was merciless, almost their partner in crime.
By the sixth night, I was barely conscious, but they didn't let loose, gathering the whole town… I still see the pair of black boots coming towards me, carrying that bush knife.

Jack, you're hurting me.
Audrey's voice sounds like it's far, far way. Sorry. My grab around her arm was getting too tight. I let her go and yield a step back.

Nobody will ever be able to understand how it feels to hang in the chains, head down, almost drowning in your own blood that runs down your body, into you mouth, nose and eyes.
The smell of blood is nothing new to me. But that amount got even me sick. That makes it only worse. The vomit mixed with the blood as it squirted out of my mouth, it burns in your nose and your sinuses. It's like fire in your eyes, when you have no hands to wipe it away and the blood and vomit just keep coming until you finally collapse into unconsciousness. It took way too long.

I'll be sick. Now.

I push Audrey away and turn around as I throw up.

There you are, you pathetic remains of a man you once were. Standing in the middle of the water watching your vomit float in the waves of the water. Is that what's left of today's chili, or is it blood from the stomach ulcer that I surely have?

Jack…. I hear her voice. She's concerned.
Not now, Audrey. I can't have you here, not right now.

Go away. I tell her.

Jack, she starts again.

Go away! How much clearer do you I need to be? I bring a few handful of water to my face to wipe my face clean again.

I want to…

Damn it. You're either too blind or too stupid to understand.

I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY! Is shouting the only thing that she'll understand?

She jerks and yields back a few steps, covering her naked upper body with her arms. I should have stopped then, damn it. It was wrong to keep shouting at her, though in these moments, it was the only thing that came into my mind.
I called her names. I shouted at her, asking if she thought I'd be able to stand everything and anything without ever freaking out. I gave her hell for even trying to make me talk about these things that have happened. Thank god, she was a few yards away, thinking back I must admit that I've been on the verge of beating her.

I let my rage out on the wrong person.

A few minutes, she just stood there, thunderstruck, trembling. I should have stopped. I didn't. She somehow endured it, not saying another word, although she yielded further and further back, until my screaming and shouting finally stopped.

There we stood, looking at each other. Now what are we supposed to do, Audrey? After all that we've been through? Everything that felt so right just an hour ago suddenly feels so wrong. I should have never let you get so close.
All you do is break me. They broke me, four months ago. All that's left of me is a broken part of the one I once was. I will never recover, don't you see that? I'll take you to Venice, then to Munich on next Thursday and that'll be it.

She finally turned around and went back to the beach.

I stayed there, standing in the water, it feels like that pool of vomit still floating around me but maybe it's only a pool of humiliation that I only I feel to be there. The sun is burning down. Like back then. I deserve this, nothing better. Let it burn down, until my skin starts weeping again.

It takes me a while to decide what to do next. Go back to the beach? To her? I don't want to. The ocean has a magic pull. I could start swimming, out of the bay, past the boat, until I run out of power.
It is a tempting idea, but no.
I look over.
There she is. She has put on her clothes again and sits under one of the trees, a few yards up the hill, having hugged her knees with her arms.

I'm so sorry, Audrey.
I shouldn't have freaked out like this. I don't know why I did, but I'd give a lot to make it undone what has happened here. I'd give such an awful lot more to make undone what happened four months ago. I'd so much want to be the one that you think I still am, the one that you're in love with, but I'm not. Stop having illusions.

I need to go back to the beach, though I really don't look forward to the conversation we'll be having.
She has every right to be mad.
I hope my actions haven't caused something even worse – like her being back in that catatonic state or not trusting me even that much to be on the same boat with me again.

The way back through the shallow water feels endlessly long. Are you watching me, Audrey? How I try to wash the remains of the humiliation off my body, just to be sure that there's no single possible trace of it anywhere?

I better take the bag with the transponder – still lying there – out of the sun. Put on my shirt again.

Over there she is. About twenty yards away, sitting in the shade of that olive tree.

Hesitatingly I come closer, but after half of the way, I stop and just sit down in the sand.
I need to bring my thoughts back in oder again. There must be a way to prevent myself from freaking out like this again.

For I don't know how long, she remained sitting under the tree.
Then she came over.
She crouched down in front of me, really close, telling me that I should get out of the sun.

Do you see my cried out eyes, Audrey? Do you? Getting out of the sun is the least one of my problems right now, we both know it. But you had to find a sentence to start with.

Hesitatingly, she puts her hand at my shoulder and just looks into my eyes.

Do you think I can just take everything and anything… and never break? I ask her. Silently, this time, not shouting it into her face.

She answers nothing. Instead, she just slips a little bit closer and leans her forehead against mine. It's better that you don't answer, Audrey, because there's no good answer to this question that I've been asking myself over and over again.

As I arrived in Sengala, that guy told me that I'd beg him to kill me. I didn't believe him. They left me out in the sun, for a whole week, until I was so burned up that every move and every touch hurt. Every other night they came back for beatings. The used poisonous scorpions to keep me under constant pain and I almost couldn't breathe, for hours. After a week, they gathered the whole town, I thought they'd finally execute me. I begged him to kill me, but I didn't know that they had that deal with the Russian prison guards. They were not allowed to do anything to me that would leave obvious traces. The Russians still wanted to keep the impression that I was just locked up there and show me to the photographers, if they'd ever need to. First they beat me, like always, then the hung me from a pole, head down. One of them took out a bush knife and told me he'd cut off my testicles. I didn't believe him, thought it was only a bluff and I even laughed at him. He cut off one of my toes first and then I knew he'd really do it. They couldn't kill me, but they wanted to at least humiliate me in any possible way. It took him a while, he cut slowly, to make it even more painful. The blood just gushed out and ran down my chest and over my face. I almost drowned in my own blood and vomit until I finally passed out from all the blood loss. Two days later I woke up in something like a hospital bed. They stitched up the wound somehow and gave me blood transfusions. He stopped by and let me know that this weren't regular blood transfusions. They have an HIV rate of more than forty percent in Sengala. I think it was the blood of one of his mercenaries. He had picked that on purpose because the other thing hadn't even been enough for him. The Russians wouldn't realize, he thought. Or maybe he thought they'd believe I caught the infection somewhere else. Anyway, he wanted to make sure…

That's it. I stop in the middle of the sentence because I'm out of words.

Audrey said nothing, the whole time. Not even now. She's sitting there, right before me, looks into my eyes and doesn't move at all.
Well, she has already known how the story would end, as half an hour ago, I took her hand and let her feel the scar between my legs.

Thank you, she silently says and puts her other arm around my body.

What for. I didn't do anything.

For trusting me enough to tell me.
At least she knows how much effort is has taken me to talk about this. Somehow, I have the feeling that she'll be the first and the only person I'll ever talk to about this. I didn't even want to show that scar to her, so why show anyone else. Hell no, this will be between you and me only, Audrey. I'll take this secret to my grave.

I love you, Jack, no matter what, she whispers and holds me close.

I can't but break out into tears.
How can you only say that.
There's nothing left of me to love.

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