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.It doesn t matter if you begged for cock. He put a hand onLee s shoulder. And it doesn t even matter if you meant it.Lee flushed with shame. So you meant it, Shaw said in an even voice. Why wouldn t you, if it stops thebeating?He wondered if Lee had seen it yet, or if he was so desperate to spill his guts toShaw that he hadn t realized.Nothing he said had horrified Shaw, and nothing would.Lisa Henry | The Island 61Shaw wasn t his salvation.Any consolation he offered was empty.Shaw livedcomfortably in the hell where Lee had been tortured. Anyone would beg for it, Shaw told him. That s the point.Lee frowned slightly. Yeah, he said, and Shaw knew he didn t believe it.It wasthe truth, but it hadn t reached him. Yeah.Shaw remembered the way Lee s eyes had shone with hope that afternoon.Shawwondered if he missed seeing it, but it wasn t a bad thing that it was gone.Lee neededto know where things stood.Shaw wouldn t hurt him, but he wouldn t prevent himfrom being hurt either.It wasn t much of a moral distinction, but Shaw had alwaysoperated in the gray areas.Shaw made decisions every day that would entangleethicists for years in debate.Shaw didn t have the luxury of time.He made a decision,stuck to it, and stretched the morality to fit it later.Square pegs into round holes;everything could be made to fit in the end with a little mental dexterity.Shaw was very good at that. We ve all done things we re not proud of, Shaw said and regretted it at once.Lee looked so grateful that it made bile rise in Shaw s throat.Lee s tears for the camera were real that night.Shaw positioned him on his handsand knees on the bed, and if he raked his fingers down the kid s back to make him cryout in pain, what did that matter? He was tired of rubbing himself against Lee like adog in heat.He was tired of jerking off furtively and making it look like rape.The longer Shaw stayed on the island, the more he lost his focus.The longer hestayed with Lee, same story.Why should Shaw be the only man on the island with afucking conscience? Why shouldn t he take what was offered, the same as the rest ofthem? Shaw hated himself for what he was becoming, and he hated Lee for holding upa mirror to his ruthlessness.He wanted to punish Lee for that, just a bit.Afterwards, when Lee was crying into the pillow, Shaw took his hand under thecover of the sheets and held it.He was no better than Vornis, probably.The small secret signs of affection werejust another form of torture.Why didn t Lee see that he was nothing but a cold shell? Itfelt strange when Lee slept deeply that night and sighed when Shaw entwined hisfingers with his own.* * * *Shit.Shaw stood at the edge of the water, his feet sinking into the wet sand.He staredout into the black Pacific, he listened to it, he demanded it work its magic.Nothing.Shit.He was at the end of his tether here.He hated his.He hated that Lee trusted him,because it came with a hopeful expectation that Shaw was in no position to fulfill. You re going to die here, he told the ocean, told Lee.Would have told him,except he d left him sleeping in bed. You re going to fucking die here.Lisa Henry | The Island 62Shaw was on his third beer, and that surprised him.He didn t usually drink muchwhen he was working, but tonight he needed the buzz.He needed it to distract himfrom his guilt.His guilt.And where the fuck had that come from? He had nothing to beguilty about.He hadn t captured Lee.He hadn t tortured him.He hadn t raped him.Hehad nothing to be guilty about.Fuck, fuck, fuck.Except his complicity.He was complicit just by being here, just by letting ithappen.Jesus, the best thing he could do for Lee would be to go back into the bungalowand fucking smother him with a pillow.That would be the best thing, the kindest thing,but Shaw didn t even have the balls to do that.He didn t need a dead American DEAagent on his conscience.Or on a file somewhere in the Pentagon.Shaw had flown underthe radar his whole career.He didn t need to start making waves now.Shaw scowled.He didn t need any of this shit.He needed to go home.Thethought caught him with a clarity that shocked him.Shit, he needed to go home.So it was too fucking bad he was as much a captive on the island as Lee.Lisa Henry | The Island 63Chapter EightVornis borrowed his toy back again the next night.Shaw tried to think of that as apositive.If Vornis wasn t bored yet, Lee still had half a chance.But it didn t look like agood thing when Lee whimpered as the men took him.When he was gone, Shawwatched television and tried not to count the hours.He fell asleep in the end and wokeup when he heard footsteps on the bungalow steps.One of Vornis s men hauled Leeinside.Lee came back with his hands cuffed behind his back and his eyes downcast.Hewinced at every step and looked too tired to even care.Vornis had given him to Shawnot as any strange sadist s welcoming present but as a way to prolong the boy s torture.He probably never got a rest between sessions.He d just drop one day soon, Shawthought, and never get up.He was wearing the key to the cuffs on a string around his neck, like a bow on abirthday present.Shaw took it and turned him around.His hands were swollen.The two smallest fingers of his right hand were taped,and when Shaw knocked his hand against them accidently, Lee flinched.When Shawturned him around again he saw that Lee s eyes were filled with tears.It was reflexive.His body responded to the pain dumbly.His mind wasn t even in the game anymore.He stank of blood, sweat, and cum, and it turned Shaw s guts.He drew Lee intothe shower and stood him under the water.Lee s eyes were unfocused again.Not eventhe shock of the hot water brought him around.When he was clean, Shaw wrapped him in a towel and laid him on the bed in thebungalow.A knock on the door surprised him.He crossed to it and slid it open. I have tape, Irina said.Her pale eyes flicked to the bed and back to Shaw.Shaw shrugged and let her in.Irina crossed to the bed and sat on the mattress carefully.Her gaze slid downLee s body.She took a small pair of scissors from her pocket and drew Lee s injuredhand into her lap.Two damaged things, Shaw thought suddenly, and they made a miserabletableau.Like the Pieta.Lee, brutalized and broken, and Irina, he saw for the first time,not much better.Lee s eyes flickered open, and he stared up into Irina s plain face.His eyes shonewith such sudden gratitude that Shaw guessed this wasn t the first time Irina hadLisa Henry | The Island 64patched him up.As he watched, Irina murmured to him in a sing-song voice in aforeign language.A lullaby, Shaw realized [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]