+++I look at the worn ring on my finger. The ring has scratches because it is soft gold. A harder gold would have been more practical. Later John had bought me two other harder gold rings for daily wear. This one on my old woman’s hand is the one he slid on my finger at the altar. Nothing could replace it. I touch it gently. It’s not the same as my hand in John’s yet it is a symbol of our love.I lift my eyes to look at the view again. I wish... I could shut my eyes and imagine John is beside me, holding my hand. He isn’t. He’s gone. I have my memories, our c***dren, our grandc***dren and some great-grandc***dren. Sometimes I can see a younger John in some expressions of our son Michael. John has gone but he has left us so much including his love.+++Love? That makes me giggle. Sixty years ago our physical love was so decorous. Even walking hand in hand was a significant statement of commitment. On the steps of our sex-segregated student hall I would give John a goodnight kiss on the. She screamed “No” and frantically beat her hands against the door until they were bloodied, as tears streamed down her face. She heard a distant door closing and the van started driving her away.Pt2Jamie spent the next few hours crying and screaming loudly trying to force the doors without any success before she finally slumped into a corner of the van and sobbed quietly to herself wondering if she would ever see her friends or family again.A few more hours later the van stopped, outside Jamie could hear someone moving things around, probably her captor. She sat in the corner of the van barely daring to breathe with no idea what was going to happen next. Eventually everything went quiet, she guessed she was going to be left here for the night. She hoped that someone would report her missing or find her before anything else happened. As the hours dragged on and unable to sleep Jamie quietly sobbed in the corner as she faced the reality of her situation and she started to piss herself.
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