“What the hell are you playing at?” she shot at him harshly as he held her wet clothes from her skin crossly. He came out of the cramped confines ...f the cupboard and on seeing her alarmed expression he began laughing. He too was soaked through, his hair stuck to his head. Far more alarmingly though, his snug white polo shirt was now transparent, revealing every ripple of muscle that lay beneath. Tiny droplets ran off his face and she was once more struck by him. Far from being a childish boy,. His cravings, longings, musings were something he’d come to hate. He’d hear her voice and his insides would melt, butterflies would fill his stomach. ‘Catharine,’ he spoke into his empty cell, ‘I love you, I need you, please, please come to me!’ Sometimes he thought he heard her laugh, light and sweet, other times he was certain he’d become delusional. She’d left him a note pad and a pen, on which he scribbled love notes, and occasionally sketches of Catharine. He’d tear them out and send them. More

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