Chapter Fourteen
A few kilometres past Protaras, at the eastern end of the island, Lillian sat on a small stony beach next to the imposing form of Old Boy. Having changed out of her black clothes, she wore a green t-shirt and brown shorts, and a gentle wind played with her auburn hair. In the past few hours, Old Boy had also undergone something of a transformation; the heavy chain was missing from his neck and Sudocrem had been liberally applied to the calloused skin that told the story of his life-long confinement.
“I’m sorry, Old Boy,” Lillian said quietly, gazing ahead, her eyes focussed on a distant point out to sea. “I’m sorry you had to live the life you did. I’m sorry for the pain you suffered. I’m sorry for the loneliness and the isolation and the prison that you had to endure. B
