After a while I realised I should be doing something better than lying here, crying. That was no way to solve things. I looked down at Frank, hardly visible down in the canyon. There was only one thing to do, and I had to do it quickly.

It took my man a whole day to get his wits back, so to speak. But when he woke up, he was a different man. It was wonderful. He wasn't distrusting, cynical or unfriendly anymore. Frank woke up on the couch, where he was lying under a blanket, as if he had only taken a nap. I had washed him and made suren there were no signs of our earlier “disagreements” in the house.

The next days, I kept quiet. It had been quite scary to kill Frank right where people could see it. It had been a thrill, but it was also dangerous. I didn't want to end up in jail. I'd drugged Frank again, and I enjoyed the friendly and calm relationship we had.

The next days went by quietly and relaxed. I kept Frank drugged, so he was calm as a little baby. It could get really boring, but for now I felt happy. Frank wouldn't be able to run away from me, and yet he was satisfied with the way things were. I went to see my parents and told them Frank was sick.