"We weren't -- " God, he never thought, when he was younger, that he'd feel guilty about something as stupidly simple as sex, but with John Hart? He'd been drunk and he'd hated every moment of it and he still can't fathom why he did it. (Except, maybe, he hated himself for something and that was the only adequate punishment his drunken mind could dream up.) "They have to know," Jackson says, feeling almost dirty at the the thought. "They know and they sent him on purpose, they ... they're fucking with my head now. I know they are."

It's not difficult, is it? To fuck with his head?

"I don't know why they care," he goes on, something miserable in his voice. "I'm just one stupid grunt and I never did one good thing in my whole life, Jono. Not one."