Walk Never Alone
by
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Several times he asked me to stop, and then in an act of submission he suddenly gave up and let go of the shirt. I wondered then if I would wish he hadn’t. I sensed that this was going to be the time for me to put to use every acting tip I had gleaned from every movie and television show I had ever watched, but I knew that I was beyond the point of no return and there was no turning back. If I didn’t continue now, he would never come back to me or to anyone else. So taking a deep breath, I continued to slide my hands up inside his shirt and in one move slipped it over his shoulders and down his arms. He sat there motionless and without taking a breath. I wanted to gasp but I knew I couldn’t. I felt sick, but that too was out of the question. It was not sick because of the sight of his back as it would not have been so bad on someone else, but I couldn’t imagine how anyone could have done such a thing to this beautiful and sensitive man who had such feeling and such depth, and now I knew why his fear ran so deep.
There spread all across his once perfect back was a criss-crossed maze of angry looking red and healed over white scars. Some were obviously old, and some newer. Some were on the surface where they left only faint and flat scars, and some were deeper where something had lashed at the skin and eaten into the flesh. In some areas the scars were wide and I surmised that some of them must have become infected. I couldn’t imagine the pain of even one of those lashings, let alone all these, and I wondered what else they had done to him. The thing that hurt the most was that he had been alone when he was in this pain, and I wished that I could have been there with him to have taken some of it. Despite my best efforts, tears had welled up in my eyes and before I could stop them they began to drip on his back. I began sobbing as I ran my hands over each scar and kissed it. With every one I gave a silent prayer of thanks that this had not been the one that ended his life and I made a mental note that these would always be beautiful reminders of how lucky I was to have him with me. I think that my reaction must have surprised him somewhat, as he relaxed a little. Perhaps he could see that I accepted them and I loved him. When I had worked my way down, I worked it back up again until I got to his neck and I kissed that and gradually moved out from behind him and around to the front until my right hand slid across his chest and I could gently push him back until he was lying down again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from crying but it didn’t seem to matter any more. With the thumb of his left hand Jim brushed away the tears from one eye and then the other. He was looking at me now with those beautiful eyes which were also filled with tears. I kissed each eye and as I did I got the salty wet taste in my mouth and I drank it in. It made me feel even closer to him. I wondered what those eyes had seen, and how many times tears like these had fallen with no one to kiss them away. And then I began to kiss him again on the lips, but this time he was not just an unwilling object, he was actually kissing me back. His arms were wrapped around me as mine were around him, and I couldn’t believe that all my fantasies and dreams about this were finally coming true. I felt it as his tongue entered my mouth and worked its way around until it met mine and I revelled in the moisture of his passion. I could feel my breathing getting faster, but I knew I couldn’t give in, because there were still secrets left to uncover, and I knew he couldn’t truly rest until he knew that I could accept those too.
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About the Book
Sometimes we search for something that we have, because we are unaware that it is already within our grasp. Such is the case in Walk Never Alone. It is a love story of the deepest and purest kind, and of an awakening of life in someone whose soul has been so deeply wounded that he has given up all hope of ever finding unconditional love. It is the story of a love born in childhood, which travels a long and painful journey without faltering, through the most unbearable tunnels of darkness until finally that love can be recognized and accepted by the person who had it all along but was unable to see it. Her love silently nurtures him until he learns to accept himself and to trust and to love all over again.
About the Author
Jennifer Gwilliam was born in Portland, Oregon and raised in British Columbia. She studied Psychology and Social Work, and over the years has worked in various capacities in these fields. She has written for pleasure all her life, and after having won a radio contest at the age of 13 for one of her early poems, has gone on to have several things included in minor publications. This is her first novel.