In the middle of the night, the bomb went off in Joe’s head again and he opened his eyes, looking into the dark cell.
Surrendering, he let out a long sigh.
He couldn’t fight it anymore.
If he didn’t touch Dubois tonight, he’d go mad.
Joe sat up, and then rubbed his face, trying to restrain himself. He didn’t want to hurt Dubois, but he was afraid of his own urgent need. He’d go to him. Yes, he’d climb in next to him.
Whatever Dubois did then, he’d allow it.
Joe swallowed the little spit he had left in his dry mouth and rested his feet on the ground, sitting stiffly on the edge of his cot. Dubois stirred in his sleep, and Joe stopped breathing. Was Dubois waking? No, he was still asleep.
Joe glanced over at the gate―it was too dark for anyone to see inside their cell. He was thankful
