[Fiction] Trust/Fall 2.2

Chapter 2 continues!

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What was wrong with me? I hugged a pillow tight to my chest and curled around it. The second week of classes started tomorrow. I needed my head in a good place. I needed sleep. But my head was bouncing up and down between happy memories of the time I’d spent with Vivian and freaking out at the sheer irresponsibility of it. Like, seriously: I had met this beautiful older woman at a kink club, gone home with her a couple hours after meeting her, let her hypnotize and fuck me, and spent the next day having waffles and hitting the mall with her roommate/adopted child. It didn’t feel real. It felt like I was luck not to have wound up raped or murdered.

What the hell had I been thinking? It wasn’t that it was bad, far from it. It was something I had fantasized about. But it was unplanned, unexpected, and clashed hard with my self-image. I curled up tighter and buried my face in the pillow, tears flowing. I had done something, I had enjoyed it. Why was I so worried about what it said about me? It had been such an amazing high to be so unrestrained, and now I was in for a long drop. And I felt like I knew what might be waiting for me at the bottom.

There have never been enough words to describe how bad I feel about being me. I am much better about it now than I was back then, and I still struggle. But my past self? Well, she was just fucked. Basically, the combination of never being okay in her body, plus the way she was socialized as a kid, plus the way her parents had treated her when she left (I still haven’t forgiven them, not completely), all added up to an emotional mess that made for one hell of a dark night of the soul. I can still remember what it was like to be stuck in that loop, rushing from one horrible topic to another, heaping on more internalized misogyny and abuse.

It went sort of like this:

I was a sexual freak. (I mean, true, I’m just proud of it now.)

Vivian was only playing with me. (Thanks Jacques. Thanks. I know you were trying to help, but seriously, fuck you.)

There was no way she could actually like me. (This one was harder to shake.)

There was no way anyone could like me. (What a melodrama queen.)

My body was disgusting, and no one could actually find me sexy. (Lies.)

I would never be the woman I wanted to be. (More lies.)

I was a sexual freak. (Second verse, same as the first.)

And then, something went blip.

I fumbled for my phone and wiped my face. It was Vivian.

“Hey, Zoe, just checking in. Sorry I had to rush out this morning. Thank you for this weekend. I’d like to see you again. Soon?”

I smiled and began to type.