He hasn't rung, he hasn't rung. Thomas hadn't been back to Sera's flat, though he had thought about it, spent whole days playing with the key in his p...cket. He refused to admit, even to himself, that the morning in the shower was to be the last time they were together. He dreamed of the other boy constantly, every thought ended up with some image of him. His face, the feel of his skin, the taste of his release. The wounds healed over to dark marks. Thomas lay on his bed, a week after that day. Blood flow seemed to have stopped, but the floor was nearly covered."They came for Nina," she said softly. "One of them knew her, from church meetings I think; that boy there." She pointed to the lean body bent double on its knees in a huge, dark puddle. "They came to rape her, all of them. Had it planned." She let out a deep breath, a sigh."I hurt, Mama," the child whined and her mother patted her back. I guessed she was nine or so, slight and skinny-legged, tow-headed like the other two. More

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