The Sanctuary Beyond the Undergrowth

Keith has never been the same ever since he came back to me. Every move he makes and every noise that comes out of his mouth is unusual. He never looks at me [even when his eyes are on mine]—he’s begun sitting with more a slump to his shoulders and everytime I try to touch him he just lets me. I grope him and feel the fabric of his shirt between my fingers and sometimes even press an eager kiss to his neck, but he just continues to sit there and do nothing, say nothing.

I’m scared.