Chapter 6: Armand
When Carl awoke, he was alone. For a minute he lay there in the just-awake state of slight disorientation, feeling quite peaceful. Then the recollection of the events of the previous night—Armand’s visit—hit.
If the feeling of contentment and rightness he had felt being with Armand in that intimate way had been a balm to him, he paid dearly for that pleasure now. The horror and self-revulsion were so intense, that it felt like some external influence, demons from the pit, was loose inside his head. Try as he might, he could not deny that, he had definitely acceded to what had transpired—the details of which he now assiduously avoided thinking about.
Indeed, his self-image was like that of a virtuous maiden in one of the ancient tales he had read, facing the loss of her
