Paul stood staring at his lifeless body lying on the bed of his hotel room. A deep crimson spreading outward from his torn throat onto the duvee. He stood there and watched as Tim continued to fuck him, barely able to believe it. He stood unmoving as Tim finished up, showered and left. This man had been his best friend for years. Tears formed in his eyes and spilt down his face. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't avert his gaze. He just stared, frozen, at his brutally destroyed form.
It was twenty four hours before his body was found. Paul remained where he was, only metres from the bed as a knock was heard on the door, as his name was called out by a voice that was all to familiar, as hotel security broke into his room and his body was discovered. He could do nothing but stare and cry. He wished he could tell them what had happened. He wanted to yell out the whole story, but no sound escaped his lips. His mind raced with thoughts and pleas he just couldn't express. All he could do was observe silent and unseen. Even when his body was finally removed from the room and the place cleaned, he couldn't leave. He was trapped.