Suicide Boy

He was half hidden by the closed curtains, sitting on a chair by the window.  There was a small gap where light filtered in and it sent a shining ray across the coffee table. That was how I saw anything of him at all at our first meeting. That was the first time I met Cain. The agency put me in touch with him but once we had spoken on the phone I had liked the sound of him, he had seemed sweet and charming and his easy manner had won me over, within a week of meeting him for the first time I had given up the agency work and gone to work only for him, I had moved in as his private nurse. That was back in the days when I thought he was recovering from an accident.

As in, an accidental accident.

I had no idea until he confessed to me after I had known him for early three months that he had deliberately injured himself; the story I had been told at the start was that he had been drunk and fallen from a window on the first floor of a friend's house - through a glass roofed conservatory below. Then one day he just said it was time to explain. And then he told me everything - his injuries had been caused on purpose. He had not been drunk. He had been sober, the action was deliberate and he had done it purely with the intention of ending his life. But Cain wasn't very good at suicide. Since the age of thirty he had taken two overdoses and slashed one of his wrists, he was also in the habit of self harming and he explained to me quite calmly that this was the reason for the scars on his arms, they were old wounds, he also told me that he had been hospitalised on four occasions because of his suicide attempts. He assured me this was not going to happen again - purely because he had managed to put on a brilliant act of being recovered, when it was far from the truth. He told me to accept him as he was, or leave. But it was too late for me, I was sharing the darkness that sank him down like a lead weight because I was in love with him and even though he didn't know it yet I knew I could not bear to leave him. I did not know how to handle his problem, I had no idea why it had started in the first place because every time I asked him he turned the subject to something else, anything to distract him from a painful past.  I had cared for him, nursed him through his physical recovery and I was still nursing him now, some days he seemed recovered and other days the pain he suffered because of damage to his spine kept him in bed all day. He was on painkillers and anti depressants and often forgot to take his medication - until I reminded him. Yet for all his self destructive ways, he hated needles and on the occasions when I had to inject him when his back pain was at its worst he was so frightened and needed consoling so much all I wanted to do was take him in my arms and tell him I loved him - but this was something I had held back from, being unsure how he would react.  Sometimes when he had been in bed and I had leaned over him to make him comfortable he had fixed his gaze on my cleavage, I had seen desire in his eyes and often when I had massaged him I noticed he had been hard... but I was reluctant to make the first move, I was so sure I loved him and to be rejected by him would have crushed me, he was so easy to love and I had fallen heavily.

And even now as I sat in the cafe by the pier I felt a creeping sense of dread as I looked at the clock: Cain was fifteen minutes late. I ran through all again in my mind: All about the man I loved.  He had suffered so much, and here I was, waiting for him, all I wanted him to do was walk through the door...

Ours was no ordinary love story.

Another five minutes crawled by and it seemed to take forever as the black minute hand ticked downwards. Waiting was hard at times like this, with so much I wanted to do and say all bottled up, waiting for him to take the lead... the place was quite busy, the smell of coffee was in the air and the windows were steaming up, outside it was a cold, wet day on the edge of winter and every time someone came in the bell jangled, the door opened and a cold rush of air disturbed the constant flow of heat that wrapped the place up like a blanket with the big old radiators on full blast, one of those big radiators was next to my table and as I enjoyed the warmth I glanced once more at the clock.

Then it happened again, the door opened, the bell rang and the door closed again. I braced myself against the sharp chill that briefly interrupted my comfort. I looked down at the steam that rose from my tea that sat there so confidently warm and my hands were about to reach out and feel warm china touch my fingertips, the thought of more warmth through my blood was so inviting when I thought about the cold outside - but then he was beside me. Cain leaned down and kissed my cheek. He felt cold and I wanted to warm him more than I needed to do the same to my own hands, but he quickly pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.

"Afternoon, Joanna." He said brightly, "Have a nice time shopping, did you?"

And he smiled at me and I smiled back. On the floor next to my chair was a carrier bag, inside it were a few items I had picked up in town, as I wondered if I should tell him what I had bought, one was a black lace g-string and a lace up basque that made my tits look twice as big - which meant they would now look bigger than the usual standard definition of big that I saw every time I cast a glance downwards.

"I had a great time, thank you." I replied.

Cain looked bloody sexy, he always did but today when I looked at him my heart had missed a beat in a magical way. He took off his long thick winter coat and unwound the pale scarf from his neck, and then he reached across the table and took hold of my hand.

"I've been thinking about you a lot today." He confessed, "I've been thinking about how much I appreciate you, and I want you to know that."

Then he tensed a little, glanced down at his arm.

"I can't believe it's hurting at a time like this! Joanna, can you sort it out?"

And he pulled up his sleeve, exposing his horrendously scarred wrist not caring who noticed, he had long ago become immune to the stares of others...

"Is it aching?"

"Down to the bone." He told me.

I began to gently massage his inner wrist with my fingertips, gently, patiently, then he drew his hand back and his fingers were closing over mine.

"Thank you."

"I must have a good touch."

"I love your touch, Nurse."

I smiled again.

"Are you trying to chat me up over a cup of tea?"

He was still holding my hand, but now he pulled me towards him.

"This isn't a cup of tea." He said softly in my ear, "This is a date."

As he spoke I caught the scent of his skin mixed with the smell of a delicious cologne that swamped my senses and made me want to sink to the floor helpless in a puddle of my own love juice.

He saw the surprise in my expression and smiled.

"You can kiss me if you want to."

"I do want to!" I said.

"Then come here."

He leaned even closer and our lips touched. It was a gentle, lingering kiss and as he pulled back I opened my eyes and my head was still swimming. He sat back in his chair and looked at me.

"I've wanted to kiss you like that for a long time."

"I've wanted to be kissed by you since we first met."

We looked at each other. We could both feel it now - sparks were flying and only we could see and feel them...

"Next time you massage my back I want you to go lower." He told me.

"I will." I promised him, "I'll concentrate on giving you pleasure to distract you from the pain. Can I spread your cheeks?"

"You can lick my arse."

"Put my tongue inside?"

"You can fuck me with it."

A cup of tea was set down in front of him and he straightened up in the chair a little, glanced at the waitress and gave a polite thank you. As she walked away he laughed, so did I, thankful we had chosen to have such a filthy conversation in low voices.

"I want us to have a proper session when we get back." He told me, "I mean, I still need all the usual stuff - but I want to make love to you, Nurse."

"I'll have to examine you first, make sure your back is strong enough. You might need a painkilling shot."

"It will be worth it." He told me, "If I'm still in pain after that you can get on top that should be okay - I'm not in pain at the moment. I feel great. I even feel happy for once, it must be because I decided to do this, with you."

And our eyes met and we just sat there for a moment, looking at each other. I was already thinking about when we got back to the flat, I would put him to bed and give him a massage, a very intimate massage, then things would get a bit painful but only for a while - at last we would be making love just as I had longed to do and I knew it would be good...so much emotion was flowing through me, I just wanted to get him back home in the warmth of his own bed and do what I knew best - care for him and make him feel loved and looked after, I knew he was having a good day both mentally and physically, better than most days, but it never lasted and he was going to need all my tender loving care very soon. We stayed in the cafe for another half an hour, our conversation drifting between things that made me want to hold him and declare my love right there and then, to subjects that made me wet myself to such an extent that I knew when my knickers came off I would be peeling them away from the soft shaven skin between my legs because the fabric was sticking so much.

We got up to leave and then the perfection of the moment was over as Cain clutched at the chair, his face went white and he sat back down again. He gasped, the bolt of pain that shot through him seemed to wipe out all his strength.

"My fucking back!" He said, and that look I had seen so many times before was back in his eyes - he was terrified of the pain that was tormenting him again.

We got a taxi back to his place, with my arm around him I managed to get him up two short flights of steps and then I unlocked the door and took him inside. I took him through to the bedroom and gently undressed him, being careful not to move him around too much as he took off his coat and shirt. When he was naked I helped him into bed, as I pulled the covers up and got him comfortable he seemed weak and all his optimism had vanished again, as if our earlier conversation had never happened.

"At times like this," He told me, "I wish I'd died in that fall.  I should have jumped from the roof, I wasn't high up enough. I didn't think about it properly."

He took a sharp breath as he tried to cope with the pain that was shooting through him.

"I don't want to live when I feel like this Joanna...I really don't see the point."

"You didn't want to live before you damaged your spine, Cain." I reminded him.

I decided that to be gentle and talk to him to get him in the mood to accept a needle would just delay the effect of his medication, so I turned his arm over and wiped it with an alcohol swab, then held him still.

He saw the needle and turned his face away.

"I hate injections. Don't do it."

"It will stop the pain, and make you sleep." I reminded him, "It won't hurt for long."

And I pressed the tip of the needle to his skin, as he felt the pressure he watched as the silver needle sank into his flesh. As I drew the needle out his eyes were already closing. I hoped he would feel better for a sleep and dressed the wound gently then sat beside him as he rested. Once I was satisfied he was sleeping soundly, I left his bedside and turned my attention to the carrier bag that contained my shopping. I took out the black underwear but then I decided not to wear it today - my nurses uniform was white because it was good at hiding the spunk stains, but the black underwear would have showed through the material some what and I wanted what I was wearing beneath to be a complete surprise and so instead I took out a sheer lace top that tied up in the front with ribbon and put it on with my new white suspender belt, than I went back in the bedroom, slipped on some white stockings and then put on my nurses uniform, leaving my knickers off as I was sure when Cain was feeling better there would be no need of them anyway... I put on some white shoes with heels that were low but spiky, then I set about sorting out the table beside the bed: Pills, a hypodermic needle, some lubrication, wet wipes, latex gloves, some moisturiser to massage into his skin.  As I watched him sleeping I thought about the passion I had seen in his eyes and I felt sure I would be able to bring that back for him, he just needed some tenderness and care to make him forget about everything. 

The afternoon was darkening into a cold evening, shadows had fallen in the bedroom so I put on the light beside the bed, and it was soft and would not be too glaring for him when he woke up.

I leaned over him and gently kissed his cheek.

“Wake up, darling.” I whispered in his ear as I stroked his face very softly.

Cain opened his eyes, he saw me and smiled.

“You woke me with a kiss, that was so nice.”

“How are you feeling?”

He gave a heavy sigh and just laid there for a moment, trying to work out how much pain was remaining.

“I don’t hurt if I keep still.” He told me. Then he tried to sit up and instantly gave a sharp cry of pain.

“It’s gone lower. Down my back, into my arse. Even my balls ache.”

“I should take a look.”

He glanced at me.

“This wasn’t the way I wanted to be naked with you tonight, I wanted us making love. Maybe I was right, what I said before – what’s the point in anything, Joanna? I might as well swallow every one of those pills in that bottle next to the bed.”

I picked the pill bottle up and put it away in the drawer below the table, locking it and putting the key in my pocket.

As the lock had slid in place I saw him look at me as if to say, it won’t stop me. But I chose to ignore that, the way I saw it was that he had made half hearted attempts in the past, if he had wanted to succeed surely he would have done, so instead I carried on with his treatment.

“Can you sit up?”

“No. I can’t move”

“Let me help you.”

He put his arms around me and I helped him to sit up, holding him safely while I arranged the pillows behind him. As he leaned back on them I heard him give a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” He said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, I can’t do anything for myself right now and I hate it.”

“Well maybe you can do more than you realise, perhaps after I’ve given you some treatment you might be able to do some of the things we talked about earlier.”

I smiled.

“I know I’d very much like to give you some oral down there, it might even kill the pain for you – especially in the anal area. Think of it as a very deep massage.”

I saw his eyes light up when I said that.

“I think you should just do what you think is best.” He told me, “I want to stop this pain, even if I have to have some more needles, even if I have to have the injections lower down. I so want to make love to you.”

“Let’s just sort the pain out first.” I told him, “Let’s take a look at you.”

I folded the covers right back and gently spread his legs.

He tensed as I ran my hands over his thighs, as he relaxed a little I let my gaze wander over his body; Cain was a fit man, perfect in every way except that his body was marked by deep scarring, a jagged scar that ran down his leg, another on his hip, one across his chest and yet another on his shoulder that ran all the way round to his back. That was without counting the scarring to his wrist, that cut had been so deep he had almost bled to death from that laceration alone. I put those thoughts aside, I knew him well enough and he was ready to submit to me for more treatment, and I was hoping it would work because I wanted his cock deep inside me and I was so horny just the thought of giving him analingus was making me wet, my clit swelling heavy and throbbing. But he was in pain, my brave, beautiful man was in pain and I was a nurse and had to think like one, I had to make him better before I had any chance of knowing his touch or his embrace.

I put on my latex gloves and gently felt around his groin. Cain had a nice cock, it was the kind of cock I took one look at and I wanted it in my mouth no matter if it was soft or hard, I just wanted to stroke it and kiss it, hold it and fondle it as if it were some kind of exotic pet.  But he tensed as I touched him, I moved my hand lower down and gently felt his balls. At this point he gasped and I had to stop.

“Sorry,” He told me, “But it hurts so much down there.”

“Alright.” I said, “I know it’s hurting. Are you sure you want me to kill the pain?”

He looked a little apprehensive but nodded, opening his legs a bit wider. I saw him shiver as he caught sight of the syringe in my hand, but I acted quickly before he lost his nerve and stopped me.

As the needle tip pressed against the skin hidden by his pubic hair he cried out, gasping as the injection so close to the base of his cock took its impact. At once I began to massage his balls, my hand lubricated with a little of the skin cream, it seemed to relax him and I noticed his cock was hardening now, much more than before, as I gently stroked its length he  gave a sigh and this time I knew the pleasure was registering for him.  I placed my hands on his thighs and buried my face between his legs, kissing his cock and balls over and over again, little kisses, my lips touching his warm flesh as if a butterfly was flitting about down there, while I did this my thumb was already wet with the cream and it was working gently up and down, massaging his arse and I could tell from the way he was moaning with pleasure that he was loving every moment. So was I – as my mouth went lower I spread his legs a little wider, it was a quick, urgent movement as I ached with the longing to be down on him in the most intimate way that I could. My tongue slid down and teased around his arse, then I gently sucked and licked, my tongue flickered in and out and he was loving every moment, his hand was tangled in my hair and he was begging me to keep going, so I did, I licked and licked down there till my lips tingled with the effort, with the intensity of the movement, I felt him tremble as these intimate actions took him closer and closer to the edge. Then I ignored the ache in my own groin and began to kiss upwards again, over his balls, then up the length of his cock. My cunt was overflowing with juices; I was aching and the walls of my vagina were crying out to know his touch, his tongue, his cock inside me, but I had not finished yet and my pleasure had to wait; I had to see if the treatment had worked.

I looked up from between his legs.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked him.

There was a different expression in Cain’s eyes now, fire and passion - and his cock was so rock hard that I was sure if he had hit me in the face with it, the blow would have been enough to give me a black eye.

“Much better, Nurse.” He said, sitting up and pulling me closer to him.

He placed both hands either side of my uniform and tugged it, the buttons popped and it hung open, my breasts cupped by the lace I wore beneath and he lingered on the sight for a moment, but then dragged me on top of him, his fingers briefly slid inside me and as they came out again a trail of love juice followed and he licked it off his fingers. Then finally he placed his hands on my hips and slammed me down onto his cock. The sudden and rough movement made me cry out, thousands of nerve endings in my vagina were finally getting what they had asked for and yearned for and with every thrust even the tiniest movement was beautiful as his cock seemed to take over not just my cunt but my mind and body as well. It was not just a fuck, not just making love, it was cock- in -cunt - intoxication and I was high from it all and my heart was pounding in unison with his thrusts and the look in his eyes matched mine: as he said I love you, I said the same. His hand slid down to my clit and he caressed me and I thrust upwards needing more and more of his touch as he took his pleasure and created mine, as I started to come so did he, we came together, clung to each other and afterwards lay together, shattered by the intensity of it all yet strengthened in the love that bound us together: this was passion entwined with love and it was in its purest, most honest form, this was the essence of what love should be, and indeed, it was.

He rested in my arms as night caught up with us and plunged the last of dusk into gloom, he looked into my eyes and murmured that he loved me several times and then we kissed, we enjoyed the closeness of simply being together, naked, our skin warm as we held each other.

“I never thought I’d feel that wonderful again.” Cain told me as we lay in the darkness, “I’ve always had pain, either in my mind or in my body or both but tonight you fixed all that for me, it’s like it mended.”

I stayed silent, but he knew what he wanted to say next, so he went ahead and said it anyway, pressing against me as he held me a little tighter:

“I want to tell you about why I should be dead.” He said softly, “About why I’m the way I am.”

I closed my eyes, wanting to sleep.

He turned on the bedside light and I opened my eyes – he wanted me to listen to this…

“When the train I was travelling on crashed ten years ago I was the only person to survive in carriage number three, it was called the Death Carriage, but I was still breathing when they pulled me out of the wreckage. I don’t know how I survived, I was cut to pieces by that crash but I lived. I sometimes think I wasn’t meant to, it’s as if I’m here by mistake and I think I should be with the others who never got out, can you understand that?”

I gave the only reply I could give.

“I love you, Cain.” I replied, then I held him tighter, he tried to talk some more but each time I covered his mouth with a kiss, then his eyes closed and the orgasm caught up with him and we both slept until morning.

Daybreak came brightly with a blue sky dotted with breezy white clouds that shifted along fast, the sunshine was such a contrast to yesterday and the light of day had a funny way of making the truth visible:

If I stuck my thumb on the end of that hypodermic needle, it would not pierce me. Instead the needle would slide back up inside the syringe – it was a harmless prop, like the rest of our medical stuff: Even the pills I’d locked away last night were made of chocolate. Cain had met me in reality when I had seen an ad that said: ‘Attractive male with unusual fetish seeks open minded woman…’  I had fallen in love with him quickly, he was so sweet and kind, such a happy person – but that was only one side of him. Cain had been involved in a huge rail disaster ten years before and he explained to me how being the only survivor in a carriage where all the other passengers died had affected him, at first he had been filled with shock and guilt and nightmares, but only at first. Then while he was recovering in hospital a young student nurse had taken a shine to him – and offered him blow jobs on a daily basis until he was discharged. Cain had taken a long time to get over his injuries, his back pain was genuine as were the scars on his body but the pain was all exaggerated – he was, by his own admission, totally addicted to playing the patient in the bedroom – it was, he said, a passion he had got hooked on almost like an antidote to the other memories from that time – the memories of the rail disaster. Those were the roots of his fetish. Not that I was complaining; I loved playing nurse for him, it was a kink of mine, I loved the idea of caring for some gorgeous man who wanted all my love and attention (and who would reward me sexually for giving it), so in that way we were a match made in heaven. No matter what the kink or fetish, there is always, always a psychology behind it, the root grew from something and although many people often say they just like what they like because it turns them on, they are usually missing a valid point – if you know where the fetish started from, it’s a good point to begin from to work out exactly what it is about the aspects of it that cause the arousal – understanding that can lead to much more excitement and passion because, at the end of the day, fetishes and kinks are pleasurable and a dish best served up in a totally indulgent way, people like having them and I am no exception -  I had dreamed for years of being in a close loving relationship where we could share our fantasies, with Cain it became easy because we were the same, and we both delighted in Cain's intricate’ background story' on his character. But for me I found it exciting to think that a sexy man needed me to make him better, I had also had several failed relationships in the past that made me think this had been the roots of my fetish, mainly because if he’s the patient, he is in need of my attention (and therefore needs me and can not run away), so perhaps it was the start of mine, all I know for sure is we had compatible fetishes and it worked well -  until genuine shadows started crowding over Cain’s mind and sometimes after a session he would lay awake in the darkness, wanting to talk to me about surviving the Death Carriage… I switched off, I always did – just told him I loved him, and that was it, but last night had been significant because today was the tenth anniversary of the accident. I had no worries about him in a major way because the character he created for our games (who we nicknamed ’Suicide Boy’), was a character he had built to my specifications, almost as if the character was a gift to me, he was vulnerable, needed erotic attention, had tried to kill himself several times, loved being cared for and at the end of the day, had the option to draw on Cain’s real past to talk about how his ’problems’ all started. That had stunned me – Cain using his real trauma when playing a game! I had thought at the time, Fuck me, that’s so hardcore, but he seemed to need to blend the reality in a little bit, which was a total shock to me – I had always thought that a game should be just that, (especially the kind of games we played), totally fictional with no real recollections to stir up nightmares or unhappy memories, but Cain liked to mix it all together…

I watched later as Cain stood in front of the mirror and double checked his appearance before he left the house, he was in his black suit and tie and it was only when I reminded him how cold it was outside that he put on his long black coat, today he wasn't thinking about anything other than the memorial service at the local train station, the scene of such carnage a decade ago.

As he opened the door to leave, I called his name.

He looked back at me.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" I asked him.

It wrenched at my heart to think the man I loved was going to return to that place, no doubt live it all over again in his mind as prayers were said for the dead, he thought he was sparing my feelings by going alone - nothing could have hurt them more because like my fantasy side, all I wanted to do was comfort him - but this time, in reality, simply because I loved him so very much and it was in my nature to be caring.

But he just smiled at me, said:

"Yes, I'm sure, I need to do this by myself. I'll call you later."

And then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him as he left.

I had an uneasy morning; I turned on the TV and watched some of the service via a news bulletin. An hour later Cain sent me a text message. The contents of that message turned my blood to ice:

Meet me at the station at mid day.

I tried to call him but the phone was off. My mind was racing, Why mid day? Because the crash had happened just after noon? The service had been in the morning, it was over now, so why was he asking me to meet him there?

I threw on my coat and dashed out of the house, I ran up the street, turning the corner just in time to see a bus pulling to a stop. I got on it and breathlessly stated my destination, before sitting down and taking my mobile from my pocket again. There was another message on it, also from Cain, when I opened it my worry only increased. The second message said:

Thank you for the best night of my life.  It's all been wonderful but you will never know how happy you have made me, I just can't put it into words. You ARE the love of my life - I'm so glad we met xxx

The time was moving on. But so was the bus and although the station was some twenty minutes away I knew I would get there in good time - at least, I hoped I would. The tone of both his messages had done nothing to ease my concern; phrases like It's all been wonderful and I'm so glad we met made me think that he was talking in past tense - as if  today had been the day he had decided, no more - I realised it was dawning on me there was a strong possibility that Suicide Boy may not have been a brilliantly constructed character from his imagination - maybe he had been there all the long, as the man I loved, or rather, what was left of him in the aftermath of the rail disaster... The rest of the journey was agony for me, at each stop the bus seemed to take an age to get moving again, but all I could do was wait, I sent him a message telling him to call me but I got no reply. I tried to ring him and the phone went to busy tone.

Then finally as the bus stopped and I got off outside the station, he called me.

"Cain, where are you?"

As I spoke I entered the station, looked around, there was a sea of flowers across the other side of the track near a brass plaque that had been newly unveiled; but I saw no sign of Cain, just a few commuters on either side who huddled in the waiting areas to keep out of the chill as they waited for a coming train.

Cain answered my question loud and clear as he spoke through my phone:

"Come up and join me." He said, "I'm on the bridge..."

I stared at the metal bridge that towered over from one side of the platform to the other - Cain was in the middle, dressed all in black with the wind catching at his coat tails as he stood there, hands grasping the rail as he looked downwards.

I ran down the platform and headed for the steps. I had hit the third step when I called his name, but a train pulled to a stop on the other side of the track and it drowned out my voice, which was already easily lost on the strong breeze anyway. I gripped the rail and climbed the rest of the stairs, then called him again.

This time he heard me, he was still standing there holding the rail, eyes fixed on a spot across the other side of the track where the brass plaque had been unveiled. He turned his head, saw me and beckoned to me.

"Come here, I want to show you something."

As I walked towards him I dared not look down, I was not that great with heights and the train was pulling out of the station and I knew if I looked down I would see between the mesh on the walkway, I'd see how far up I was and the dizzy distortion as the train pulled slowly out would give me serious vertigo, so instead I kept my eyes fixed on the man I loved and wanted so badly to save. I walked over to him and put my hand over his.

He glanced at me, and then looked back towards the wall plaque on the other side of the platform again.

"I should have been dead ten years ago." He told me, "And it's never left me alone, this feeling that I don't really belong here, it went on and on and sometimes it was all I could think about."

I was cold, colder than I had ever felt in my life, it was the height of the bridge, the chill and the wind, but most of all it was the thought that my Cain could be about to kill himself that scared me the most. I squeezed his hand tightly.

He looked at me.

"Please come down." I begged him.

"Let's cross to the other platform." He said, "I want to show you the memorial."

He gripped my hand tightly and we walked down the other side of the bridge steps, when my feet hit solid ground again it was a relief but I still had that dread inside me because Cain glanced back at the bridge and remarked:

"It was a stupid idea anyway - I can do it just as well from the platform."

I walked with him along the platform, now sheltered from the wind and a fraction warmer, the station was empty now, the last of the commuters had just got on the out going train and across the other side another train was pulling out . We were the only two people here now.

As I glanced around I tried not to think about the news reports about the disaster; at the time it had been just another terrible story, except that this had happened in my area. I had never imagined that ten years later I would be here with the man I loved, a survivor of the wreck, the only survivor from the Death Carriage.  It was funny how life worked out. But only sometimes, right now it felt as if I would never think on the lighter side of anything again - all I wanted to do was stop him from throwing himself in front of a train...

He led me over to the memorial plaque.

"My name should be on that." He stated, "I should have died ten years ago."

I blinked back tears.

"But you survived." I reminded him.

As he glanced up the track I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a sadness, a memory, something that haunted him, a recollection of the day the world descended into hell - but then he blinked and as he looked at me again I knew he was back in the present.

"I should have died on that day." He told me, "There should have been no survivors in my carriage at all. I mean it, Joanna - I shouldn't be alive."

He noticed a tear was running down my face and he brushed it away.

"All this memorial stuff has really got me thinking." He said, "Ten years and I never should have lived a single one of them."

I reached out for him and as I stepped into his embrace I felt as if my heart was breaking.

"Please, Cain.” I begged him, "Don't talk like that, you are meant to be here, and you belong here, with me."

Cain hugged me, then he realised I was sobbing.

"Don't cry." He said, then he pulled back a little, looked at my face, as he wiped my tears away he studied the look in my eyes.

Then he stared at me.

"Don't get upset over me, you're losing Suicide Boy, he's the darkness inside me, he's the one who needs to die. I decided today, and I'm not changing my mind... he was a character born out of a tragedy and I have to let go."

"But you don't have to kill yourself, Cain!"

My voice echoed around the empty waiting area.

And Cain stared at me some more.

"Kill myself?" He repeated, “I admit I'm inventive but I'm not the best in the world when it comes to gestures like this, as big as this one, but Joanna, sweetheart...”

He took hold of my hands.

"Listen to me," He said calmly, "I'm trying to explain my reasons to you and you need to let me finish - like I said, I should have died on that day..."

And then he smiled.

"I should have been a name on that plaque. But instead, I'm alive and I'm here with you. And meeting you and sharing all we have has changed my life. I might as well do it here, I was going to do it on the bridge but its better here next to the memorial, I think, I planned this weeks ago..."

He took a box out of his pocket.

He got down on one knee.

He opened the box and the diamond ring inside caught the light and sparkled as bright as his eyes as he looked up at me.

"Joanna," He said, "Will you marry me?"

"Of course I will!" I told him.

Cain got up and slid the ring on my finger.

As we kissed a train hurtled through the station like a bullet and we were still kissing as it passed off into the distance.

Then he took my hand and we walked together towards the exit.

As we walked, we talked some more.

"So if you don't want Suicide Boy any more you don't want me to be your nurse?"

"Of course I do!" He assured me, "I've been working on some new ideas - I could be Criminal Boy.”

“Who’s that?"

"You'll like him, he'll break in bleeding from a bank robbery that’s gone wrong and you'll have to put him to bed and treat him...I got some fake blood from the fancy dress shop in the High Street. Or I could just be me, needing your special treatment. I definitely need a lot more of that."

"Can I still lick your arse?"

"I want you to, and I need the nurses uniform on you, I need all the usual stuff - I think I’ll always need that, I couldn't imagine never submitting to your tender loving care, it makes my world go round."

"I couldn't agree more." I replied, "I love our kinks. Life would be so boring without them."

And we walked out of the station. I never looked back, and most importantly, neither did Cain.

The End