TWELVE
BREAKFAST AT MICHAEL’S
Jacob lay sleeping on the sofa in Michael’s seedy, foul smelling flat. Michael sat opposite his newfound houseguest, watching the sleeping form. Jacob slept a lot lately and was constantly complaining to Michael that he could never seem to clear his head. Michael knew the answer to Jacob’s problem of course, though he’d no intention of revealing that information to the sleeping man. The constant infusion of sedatives and other narcotics that Michael added to Jacob’s tea, coffee and occasionally to the take-away Chinese meals they enjoyed from time to time ensured that Jacob had become highly susceptible to Michael’s will, and also to some extent dependent upon his so- called benefactor.
In fact, Jacob had become everything that Michael had wanted him to be
