(This is part of my mail to John.)
(…) I was not so well-trained and well-behaved as today, so I had my difficulties standing straight, enduring the pain you inflicted on me. I could feel you running out of patience after a while, but you just kept on.
(…) I thought we were finished, but you taught me we’re only finished if you say we are. You went down and when you came back, you had fetched the duct tape. You masked a certain area in the middle of the room with nowhere to lean to, just big enough for merely more than my feet. “Get in there. Stay there. Don’t move”.
(…) I guess it was the first time you just did not take notice of me. You switched on the T.V. and snuggled up into the bed, eating the rest of the cake, while I stood there with my legs getting even more tired and the pain still pulsing through my body. I knew I was really in trouble when you turned over and turned off the light. I completely lost my sense of time as my feet hurt more and more and my legs were heavy and sore.
(…) When you finally let me leave and crawl up next to you, I was exhausted, but when you said that was the only thing that made you proud of me on that certain evening, I was happy and had to smile. I did not know duct tape was to become a inherent part of my life…