Cooking and cleaning for him, doing his laundry and giving him a roof over his head, I made it easy for him to stay and impossible for him to leave. H... had no reason to leave, until I got in his face and until I asked him to love me. Leave me or love me, it’s your choice. It wasn’t a bad choice, but I guess he thought it was. ‘Why? What happened? How did it all go wrong so fast?’ I don’t understand and he can’t even take the time to explain any of it to me. How could he suddenly not have any. Itwas all gone; every drop of ink he'd spent thousands of dollars anduntold hours of pain getting etched into his skin; gone and replacedby a single tattoo he'd never seen before: a 'tramp stamp' at thebase of his spine. This new art was as feminine as his former designshad been masculine: a winged heart, pastel-colored and ringed withdelicately tinted flowers; just the sort of thing a girl would choose.A young, teenaged girl with long black hair and emerald-green eyes,just like the girl he. More

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