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Jill and Malcolm were now work colleagues. Working together at least five nights a week. It felt like if I agreed to this that I was opening the door to Jill spending nights with Malcolm much more often. If I was traveling, why wouldn’t Jill ask the same question? Or as I was always asleep when she got home, and she was asleep when I left, why wouldn’t she negotiate to have some of these nights at Malcolm’s place? After all, we’d not lose any time when we were both awake and able to talk or be together?But as much as the impact of saying ‘yes’ to Jill’s request troubled and frightened me, the thought of it also excited me. Since Jill had started working for Luther, I had little doubt that Malcolm and Jill had fucked on several occasions, but given our respective work schedules, I’d not managed to witness any of their couplings. And a dry addict isn’t a happy addict, so even though all kinds of alarm bells were ringing I was a man in two minds, torn in two directions, weighing up fear. ‘Take it easy, son. We’ve got court orders to take her back home. She’s been declared mentally handicapped.’ ‘But she’s not! Look at her!’ ‘It’s part of her condition.’ Her father stated, that false sadness becoming less and less authentic. ‘Let her go!’ I began to struggle against Officer Cunthead. His partner came over and fought against me as well. I could see the edges of my vision blurring and tinting red as I looked at her father, and behind him, my struggling girlfriend. Her face was torn with sadness and fear, her arms flailing, reaching out for me to come get her. Alas, I would be deterred by the lawmen. For the briefest of instants, I made eye contact with her father. I saw straight into his soul, a veritable briar patch of unpleasantness. I saw triumph, cold and brooding behind his mask of concern. He shot me a little smirk. That sent me over the edge. As I strained against the officers, I stopped really being conscious of my actions. I shouted and growled in a primitive.
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