Anne walked over to where David had perched on the sofa. She kneeled before him, extinguished his smoke and took his hands.

“I want you to picture something… Close your eyes.”

David frowned at her and then sighed and obliged.

“Imagine a boy, shut tight in his bedroom. Imagine you can hear the sounds of his parents screaming at each other down the stairs. Now this boy has locked his door to shut them out. He’s seated in front of a mirror and he’s looking at himself. He studies his eyes with the long, long lashes, the lips that are a little too full, his hair that’s hangs to his shoulders, and as he does this, he is thinking about the terribly dark secret he is keeping. Can you feel the anguish in his heart? Can you imagine the pain he suffers, fearing one day his parents will discover his dirty little secret? These parents who are coming to blows downstairs over something trivial. Watch him study the vein in his wrists…”

David’s head lowered until it met Anne’s.

“I’m so sorry.” he said softly.