My dreams became more persistent after the night in Chicago. I could not shake them off anymore. They crept into my idle thoughts. The girl in my dream now had a face. She was Zephyr, but she was also an amalgam of all the women I had been attracted to in my life. I wanted to punish them all. I wanted to make them cry, and whimper, and something else. Something was missing from the dream. I always woke up before I could grasp the source of my deviance. I knew I wanted something more than to hurt these girls, I just did not know what.

Weeks passed and I did my best to avoid my feelings. I tried to ignore my dreams. I tried to drive them out with pain. Self mortification was a tool that the saints used, why not me? For a time it worked. I could focus on the pain from the scourge, and ignore the lust my body was feeling. We were still undefeated in the middle of October. There was talk about a national championship and even the Heisman for me. All of this seem...

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