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Red! Red! Red!

A one-shot for competition winner N-Boston about the first time Christian safe-worded with Elena, aged 16.

 

Today was different. And I’m still processing what I think about that. Who am I kidding? My mind is too fucked up beyond all recognition to think clearly about anything.

It started three weeks ago.

Some days I felt like my head was about to explode with all the fury, all the crap that passes for thoughts. You know those anti-smoking posters they show you in school, diseased lungs and all that? That’s what I imagine my mind looks like: twisted and black and disgusting; the kind of mind no-one wants, and no good person should have to be near – certainly not my family.

I went through the motions of living, if you can call it that: I went to school, I ran track, I rowed – mostly single sculls because no fucker was dumb enough to want to pair up with me anymore. I went to kick-boxing classes but the teacher was too worried that I’d beat the shit out of one of the other students to let me spar with anyone but himself. The only micron of relief I have from the foulness eating at me, is music. Sometimes, only sometimes, I can lose myself in the music.

Mom and dad were worried about me but they couldn’t save me from drowning. I didn’t think anyone could.

I started swiping dad’s Scotch a while back but there’s only so much water you can add to a bottle before someone notices: in this case Elliot. I’m grateful that he covered for me but he made it pretty clear he wouldn’t do it again. I just wanted to numb these intense feelings; I couldn’t take the way my brain seemed to bleed with anxiety every fucking second of every fucking day. My skin felt too thin and I just wanted to stop feeling all the time. I just wanted it to stop.

But every time some loser fucker made a comment to provoke me or even looked at me the wrong way, I lashed out. I got expelled from two schools for fighting. Mom and dad were going crazy trying to figure me out. Good fucking luck with that: nine shrinks and counting hadn’t got very far, and the useless fucker I was supposed to be seeing now didn’t have a clue. But the look of disappointment on my mom’s face just killed me. And as for dad, the only way I can describe it is that he looked scared: like he’d always expected this would happen… or some screwed up shit like it. So I drank more.

I started stealing liquor from anywhere I could, but it was getting harder. Out of my school uniform, I could just about get away with buying alcohol from one of those late night stores that didn’t really give a fuck about fake ID. But I got caught trying to swipe some Bourbon once and the security heavies beat the crap out of me. Mom just thought I’d gotten into a regular kind of fight: she patched me up and sent me to my room ‘to think about what you’ve done’. As if I ever did anything but think. I wanted to tear my brain out and mash it into a million pieces just to get some peace. One of the older students at school was known to sell uppers and downers: believe me, I was thinking about it. Do you know how low I sank? I was thinking about taking the money that Mia had been saving up. I knew where she kept it and one day I found myself in her room with the bills in my hand. How fucked up is that? I managed to put them back but I kept thinking about that money.

I couldn’t focus on anything: it was like watching one of those music videos where the images go so quickly, you can get dizzy trying to keep up.

I thought about sex constantly. I seemed to have a hard on constantly. If there was a competition for jerking off, I’d have won hands down, if you know what I mean. Elliot had a pretty impressive collection of magazines so I made sure some of them ended up in my room. Not that I needed a magazine.

The girls at my latest school knew me too well to hit on me after the first couple of months. I couldn’t bear anyone getting near enough to touch me, even though all I could think about was pushing them up against a wall and fucking them senseless. They thought I was stuck up or weird or gay, probably. It didn’t make any difference and I didn’t have space in my head to care what they thought. I just knew that sex, real sex, wouldn’t be possible for me. How can you have sex with someone if you can’t let them touch you? Yeah, my therapist was no fucking use answering that question.

So when mom said she’d got me a summer job working for the Lincolns I was happy enough to be out of the house and out of the reaches of her anxious eyes – and to earn some cash.

I knew the Lincolns vaguely from  mom’s endless fundraisers. All us Grey kids were expected to dress up, pass around the canapés and sweet talk all the rich fuckers who came. Elliot was pretty good at that: he could charm the women and be all buddy-buddy with the men. And everyone loved Mia: she was so cute and pretty and used to get away with saying all this outrageous stuff. It was pretty funny really. So that just left me: the ghost at the banquet.

Mom dropped me off at the Lincolns at 8.30am on the first Monday of the summer break. I’d wanted to cycle over but they didn’t even trust me to have access to my bike in case I disappeared on it somewhere. Mom hugged Elena and thanked her for giving me a job and then took off for the hospital.

I dug my hands into my jeans pockets and stared at the ground.

“This way, Christian,” said Elena.

I’d never been alone with Mrs Lincoln before. At least she didn’t try to be super nice to me like some of mom’s friends, or talk to me in that soothing voice reserved for nervous pets, which always annoyed the fuck out of me.

She led me around the side of the house to where they’d had an extension built onto their utility room. There was builders’ rubble all over one side of the back yard. My job was to clear it up, load it into a wheelbarrow and throw it all into a dumpster. Doing that by hand would take about four or five days. After that Elena had vaguely mentioned some work around the yard. I didn’t care: all that interested me was the $10 an hour she’d promised to pay.

The work was back breaking, not that I cared about that, but it was really hot, too. One of those Seattle summers where the breeze from the Sound doesn’t make it as far as Bellevue. I was out in the scorching sun for four hours, heaving bricks and wheeling them to the dumpster. I must have moved a quarter of a ton that morning. The palms of my hands were pretty tough from rowing, but even so, I was starting to get blisters. I wondered if there was a pair of workman’s gloves I could borrow but I didn’t know where Mrs Lincoln was so I couldn’t ask her.

Mom had given me some cold pasta and an apple to eat for lunch. There was no-one around so I’d pulled off my sweaty T-shirt and was cooling down under a tree. I heard a car pull up in the driveway and a few minutes later Mrs Lincoln came out with a glass of lemonade for me.

I was grateful for that because I’d drunk almost all the water I’d brought with me.

“I thought you might like this, Christian,” she said.

“Thanks, Mrs Lincoln. It’s gotten pretty warm.”

“So I see,” she said, looking me up and down, “rather hot, in fact.”

Her gaze made me feel uncomfortable and that made me pissed. Who the fuck did she think she was to stare at me like that?

But she was really attractive, too. She was wearing a thin summer dress that clung to her and she had bare legs that looked like they belonged on a model. I knew she was younger than mom; I guessed she was about thirty or so. It gave me a hard on just looking at her.

“You look pretty hot, too,” I said, arrogantly.

She didn’t smile or look embarrassed. She didn’t even look angry. She took a step towards me, took the glass of lemonade from my hand and put it on the grass.

I had no clue what she was going to do.

She slapped me, hard, rocking my head to one side.

It was so unexpected that I hadn’t had time to defend myself. But then she took another step towards me, grabbing my face with both hands and kissed me roughly.  She forced her tongue into my mouth and pushed me back against the tree.

I was so fucking scared that she’d touch my bare chest, I was paralysed. Every bit of my fifteen-year old cockiness and arrogance was stripped away. I was utterly exposed, raw.

But she didn’t touch me. She just kept kissing me and before I realised what I was doing, my hands crept around her waist, holding her loosely. She increased the pressure on my mouth, crushing my lips with hers, her teeth clamping down, and I was lost in a sea of lust as desire spiked through me. Suddenly she pushed away from me and I was left gasping. Then she slapped me again, turned on her heel and walked away.

I was reeling. I had no idea what had just happened. I was so turned on, but shocked, too, and both my cheeks stung from her blows.

I stood and stared at the house, wondering what to do. My heart was racing and I felt like I’d just gone ten rounds with my kick-boxing instructor.

But the house was quiet and there was no sign of Mrs Lincoln. I stood there, a fool in the summer sun. Finally, I picked up the lemonade and drank it down in one go, wiping my mouth with my arm. I went back to work.

I had no frame of reference for what had happened; no way to interpret or explain. No way to understand.

At 4pm, I heard my mom’s car in the drive. I pulled on my T-shirt and wandered around to the front of the house.

Elena was standing in the drive, talking to my mom through the car window. She completely ignored me.

I got into the car and slumped back in the seat.

“Christian!” said mom. “Where are you manners? Thank Mrs Lincoln for having you.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

Elena gave a brittle smile. “It was a pleasure. Same time tomorrow, Christian.”

Her words were calm but the unspoken promise went straight to my dick: I really wanted to see her again in the morning.

I was virtually silent on the drive home, answering all mom’s questions with monosyllabic answers. Eventually she gave up, sighing deeply, and simply told me to go take a shower.

Mia was waiting for me, sitting on my bed and bouncing impatiently.

“What do you want?” I said in a surly tone.

“Don’t be mean, Christian. I’ve been waiting ages for you. You promised we’d watch that movie together.”

That was true: I’d said we’d watch ‘Titanic’ together because she got scared at the bit where it started sinking. But I really didn’t feel like being with my little sister right now. I needed to be alone.

“Not now, Mia.”

“But you promised, Christian!” she whined.

“Maybe tomorrow, ok?”

“But you promised!”

I ignored her and pulled out some clean clothes then headed for the shower. Behind me I could hear her strident, pleading tones. I blocked them out as best I could.

The shower soothed my muscles which were aching pleasantly and the sunburn on my neck and shoulders. But it couldn’t soothe the vortex of half-formed thoughts that whirled ceaselessly in my head.

Why did she kiss me? Does it mean there will be more? And why did she hit me – twice? Does she like me? Does she hate me? She can’t know what I am or she’d never have come near me? I don’t understand. But I really, really want it to happen again. Just thinking about her rough touch had my body pulsing with desire. My cock was getting hard again so I took advantage of the privacy of the shower and pumped hard until I came, feeling some tiny bit of relief. It didn’t last. It never did.

The evening meal was a nightmare. Dad started going on about how difficult it was going to be to get me into another new school in the fall if my present one decided to expel me after another ‘incident’ at the end of the semester, and that if this kept up I’d have to be educated at home and take my High School Proficiency Exam by myself, and what did I think about that?

Frankly, I didn’t give a fuck but even I knew not to say that to my dad, so I just sat there in silence – a gesture he chose to construe as dumb insolence.

I got sent to my room again. For fucks sake – at this rate I was never going to get to finish a meal. And I was hungry after my day of laboring.

I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Dad had already confiscated my CD player, I can’t remember what for – there were so many ‘incidents’ to choose from, so I didn’t even have the comfort of music; and I was too hyped up to read. I stared at the ceiling with no relief from my thoughts – thoughts chiefly about her.

I wasn’t surprised to hear a soft knock some time later.

I couldn’t be bothered to reply. After a moment’s hesitation, mom walked into the room. She sat on the end of the bed and sighed.

Great. Just what I needed: another fucking guilt trip.

“Christian, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t wind up your father like that. He only has your best interests at heart.”

That stung. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Exactly. He was trying to have a conversation with you.”

“That wasn’t a conversation: it was another fucking lecture.”

“Christian! You will not speak about your father like that!”

I didn’t start this!

“I’ve made an appointment with Dr Fostile for Wednesday. Maybe you’ll talk to him.”

I seriously doubt that: the guy is a dick.

Eventually she gives up but she’s left me a plate of bread and cheese. A baguette – my favorite bread. At least I’m not hungry anymore. Just fucked in the head.

 

The night passes slowly. Even though the house is quiet, I can’t sleep. Lying in bed feels like torture, so I get up and wander downstairs. I listen carefully before going into dad’s study and heading for the liquor cabinet. For the first time, it’s locked and I’ve no idea where he’s put the key. I guess he’s gotten wise to my game. Fuck! It’s the only thing that helps me to sleep.

I think again about what happened with Mrs Lincoln. I don’t understand what that was all about. It’s almost as if I dreamed it but I know I didn’t: my lips still burn from her touch. And I really want her to kiss me again tomorrow.

As dawn arrives I head back upstairs to bed. My eyes feel tired and scratchy but my body is alert. I sleep maybe twenty minutes before I hear Elliot thundering around down the hall. I pull on my jeans and a clean T-shirt and head to the kitchen for breakfast.

Mia is chattering away to Elliot and mom is making pancakes. Dad is half listening and half reading the paper. Whatever: I’d rather be ignored than yelled at again.

It’s my turn to clear the plates so by the time I’ve loaded everything into the dishwasher, dad and Elliot have already gone: dad to his office and Elliot to a summer internship he’s got with an eco building company in the city. Mia is going somewhere with her ghastly friend Lily, so mom drops me off first.

“Please be civil to Mrs Lincoln,” she says, warningly. “She’s my friend and she’s doing us all a favor by having you work for her.”

I watch as she pulls out of the drive then I make my way round to the backyard feeling tense. There’s no sign of Mrs Lincoln, so after a short pause I start clearing rubble and loading it into the dumpster.

I’m lost in the work, enjoying the physical labor when I turn and see her studying me. I think maybe she’s brought me another lemonade, but her hands are empty.

“There’s a coffee waiting for you in the kitchen,” she says, her eyes watching me appraisingly.

I note that she hasn’t asked me how I like my coffee as I follow her into the kitchen. I don’t know why but my heart starts beating faster. The chances are nothing will happen, that she regrets what she did yesterday. But a small, restless part of me is hopeful.

When we get to the kitchen she turns and leans against the breakfast bar. There’s no sign of coffee and my heart rate picks up again. She’s wearing tiny denim shorts that show off her great legs and tiny waist. She’s so fucking hot.

She walks towards me slowly. It’s almost as if she’s some sort of sleek predator and I’m her prey. Christ, I hope so!

She stops a few feet away.

“I’m going to kiss you again, Christian, like I did yesterday.”

She watches to see that her words have sunk in, then she pounces. She pushes me up against the wall, her hands in my hair, pulling hard. She bites my lip and then her tongue is in my mouth. Her right hand lets go of my hair and presses hard against my erection that’s sprung to attention.

Fuck! I nearly come on the spot.

Then she pushes her hand inside my jeans, inside my boxer briefs, and starts to stroke me. I’ve never been touched by a woman before and the feeling is indescribable. I feel baking hot and icy cold and my whole body is trembling. But then she lets go and slaps my face again.

I’m so confused. I don’t know how to respond. I just stare at her, my eyes filled with fear and lust.

“I know you want to fuck me, Christian, and I’m thinking about it. It depends on whether I think you’ll please me or not.”

Fuck?! Anything!

“Do you want to please me, Christian?”

I nod wordlessly.

“Answer me!”

Her voice is imperious.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I’m stumped: I don’t know what she wants me to say.

“Yes, I want to please you.”

I think I’ve made the right answer because she smiles and a cold, calculating look crosses her face.

“Good. Come with me.”

I follow her up the wide staircase and into a bedroom. The room is cool and white and has a large bed pushed up beneath the window. There’s nothing personal in the room and I wonder distantly if it’s a guest room. My heart is hammering in my chest and my cock is aching for her to touch me again.

She closes the door and stares at me.

“Do you trust me, Christian?”

Once again I don’t know what to say. I barely know her. I swallow and my eyes flick to the door.

“I promise I won’t touch your chest. Or your back. But if you let me touch the rest of you, you won’t regret it.”

I try to process what this means but my brain is in shut-down; there’s only one part of my body that is capable of responding. It’s pretty obvious which.

“Take off your T-shirt and give it to me.”

I’m not happy doing that: I feel too exposed. What if she’s lying about not touching me?

“Don’t hesitate. Do exactly what I say – or leave now.”

I don’t want to leave but I’m so fucking scared.

Slowly, I pull my T-shirt over my head and hand it to her.

“Good boy.”

She takes the T-shirt and holds it up to her face. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

“Mmm… nice and sweaty. You smell really good, Christian.”

Her words are such a turn on. No-one has ever spoken to me like that before. But she intimidates me, too. So I stand there, a mute fool, while her eyes drink me in.

She drops the T-shirt on the floor and cocks her head to one side.

“Take off your pants. Slowly.”

My mouth has gone dry and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I kick off my sneakers and socks at the same time. I swallow again and pull down the zipper on my jeans. My erection is pushing against the thin material of my boxer briefs. I feel my face flush with embarrassment and humiliation.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Christian,” she says quietly. “You have a fabulous body; a man’s body. And I’m going to pleasure you like a man.

She steps forward and I automatically take a step away from her, but the back of my knees hit the bed.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she says sharply.

She rests her hands on my hips and lets her nails dig into my skin. I gasp and stare at her. Then she runs her fingers around the waistband of my briefs tugs then down briskly.

And now I’m truly naked before her: every part of me stripped away. I have to trust her. Can I trust her?

“Lie down, Christian.”

I do as she says.

“I will only touch your face, your arms… and below your waist.”

I nod nervously.

“Good. Now put your arms above your head.”

She takes my left hand and slips something over my wrist then pulls hard and clips it to the headboard. Panic lances through me and I try to lunge off the bed.

“Calm down, Christian. You can trust me. Believe me, I have more to lose that you do.”

Her words pierce through the molten confusion of my brain and I let her cuff my other hand. I’m staring up at her, wide-eyes and scared shitless, but also aroused beyond anything I’ve ever known.

I realise she’s holding a riding crop in her right hand. She runs it up my thigh and along my pulsing, aching erection.

“Now I’ve got you where I want you, what shall I do with you?”

*  *  *  *

Today it’s my sixteenth birthday.

“Hey, little bro! Happy birthday! Sixteen! Woah! You’re legal to have sex, buddy!”

I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me and has no idea of the unintentional irony of his words, but it’s not lost on me. I’ve been having sex with Elena almost every day for the last five weeks. The days when I can’t see her hang slow and heavy. Mostly, this is because her husband, Linc, is around, or because she’s got something on in town that she can’t get out of.

I’m not grounded anymore, which makes things easier. I can jog over to Elena’s place in 20 minutes. The sex is just off-the-chart amazing. I never knew it could be like that. None of Elliot’s magazines showed anything more than spanking, but Elena has opened up a whole new world to me. And she talks to me – really talks to me. No-one has ever talked to me like that, like a friend. She’s teaching me about wines from around the world: the different grapes and shit like that… although she won’t let me touch hard liquor. Once I turned up and she tasted Bourbon on my lips: I won’t do that again. She beat the shit out of me; I mean, really beat me. I had to be really careful about making sure I didn’t wander out of the shower in a towel like I usually do, because then it would have been pretty obvious what was going on.

As it is, mom and dad don’t have a clue and I’m going to fucking well make sure it stays that way.

And she’s really into music: mostly golden oldies but she loves to dance and I’ve got no problem feeling her body pressed against mine as we move around to the music. For an older woman, she has a fucking fantastic body; I can’t get enough of her. And weird as it seems, I think she feels the same. She’s so sexy when she dances. Well, she’s fucking hot all the time but when she dances she seems a lot younger. And she’s teaching me. I used to watch mom and dad dancing and I thought I’d never be able to do that because I couldn’t let anyone get that close to me – Mia being the exception – but Elena has kept her promise; she’s never tried to touch my chest or back or any of my no-go areas. I can relax with her. I trust her. And we’ve fucked in ways that I don’t think even Elliot has dreamed of. But we have to be careful: if we got caught… I really don’t want to think about that. I’d lie and say it hadn’t started until I was 16; that’s the least I could do for her.

I don’t know why the whole submissive thing works for me, I just know that it does. Maybe it’s that there’s no uncertainty. I know exactly how I have to behave; she tells me exactly what she’s going to do, when and how she’s going to do it. She makes all the decisions; it’s like she’s put everything into black and white, and before everything was shades of gray. Somehow, my world has come into focus since I met her. I’ve got another way of expressing myself; somewhere else I can pour my energies. I can turn off part of my brain and give myself over to Elena. She knows what’s best for me.

She’s taught me a lot about my body already: about pushing my limits, about extending my pleasure and hers. I even enjoy it when she beats me because I can see how much it turns her on. It’s a real fucking head-spin trying to understand why I enjoy the pain. If I had a halfway decent therapist I might risk asking him, but the latest guy is an asshole. I hate having to see him but Elena says I must, because it makes mom and dad happy.

I don’t like taking money from her because it makes me feel like she’s paying me for sex or something. But she says if I didn’t have money for doing the yard work, it would blow our story. I’m going to save the money for something important: a car, maybe, when I’m seventeen.

Elena says pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin and I sort of understand that now. It was weird at first but she said I’d get used to it, and she was right. At least I thought so. Now I’m not so sure…

I had a couple of hours to myself. Mom and dad were less stressed about letting me out by myself but I still had to give them a fucking itinerary every time I made a move. Because it was my birthday they said I didn’t have to work at the Lincolns. Of course it was the only place I really wanted to be, so I said I was going for a run.

I arrive at Elena’s in 17 minutes, shaving 98 seconds off my personal best. The house is quiet but I know she’s in there somewhere, waiting for me.

I head straight for the guestroom, removing my clothes and folding them neatly the way she’s instructed me. Then I kneel by the door and wait. The room is cool and I shiver slightly, the sweat on my skin leeching heat from my body in the slight breeze. But my cock is already hard and I’m tense with anticipation.

I hear the door swing open and I straighten my back, keeping my eyes on the floor.

“You may look at me.”

I glance up and she looks fucking hot. She’s wearing a corset in a silvery color with plain silk stockings. She’s holding a thin cane in her hand. She said we’d be moving onto canes soon; I just hadn’t realised it would be today.

“I have two treats for you today, birthday boy,” she says softly. “Bend over the bed; let’s see that glorious ass.”

I do as she asks.

“Now stretch your hands out in front of you.”

I know this is because she’s going to tie them to the other side of the bed making it hard for me to move.

I can smell something fragrant. Hand cream, maybe? She rubs her hands together then starts massaging me.

Fuck! That feels…

“Aagh!”

She’s forced something up my ass and my mind is reeling, my body rebelling.

“Hush, now. Suck it up like a good boy.”

I try to breathe deeply and relax. The feeling is strange, alien and I know she’s crossed another boundary. I don’t know how I feel about this.

Then she starts with the cane, lightly at first, across my ass and thighs. She increases the strength of the blows and I can hear her breathing becoming ragged. The stings are getting hard to handle but she stops abruptly and pulls whatever it is out of my ass so suddenly that I cry out again.

I turn my head and see her walk around the bed to loosen my hands. My shoulders feel stiff.

“Lie on your back.”

My hands are still tied together so I have to shuffle awkwardly up the bed.

She stands looking down at me: I think she’s pleased. It’s hard to tell. Then she pulls down her panties and straddles me. She takes my cock in her hand and pumps it a couple of times. I can feel it building inside me and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to control my reaction the way she’s taught me.

“Not yet. Oh, not yet.”

She kneels up and then sinks down onto me.

Yes! This is what I want! This is what makes sense!

She starts to ride me hard and I groan underneath her. I can feel her body quivering around me and I try to hold on, I really do but my body betrays me and I throw my head back, pouring myself into her.

I know I’ve disappointed her and I can’t meet her eyes but she strokes my face gently, lovingly.

“I think we’ll have to try that again,” she says softly.

I know it’ll only be a couple of minutes before I can follow her instructions but right now my brain is somewhere out of the entire fucking State.

She lies down next to me and continues to stroke my face. I open my eyes and stare into hers and I can’t help myself.

“I love you, Elena.”

Her eyes harden immediately and she sits up.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid.”

I’m stunned. She’s never spoken to me so coldly.

“You have no idea what love is, Christian. You’re just a fucking kid. When are you going to wake up and smell the fucking coffee?”

“I’m sorry! I…”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Christ! Why do I saddle myself with such losers? What a complete fuck up! You stupid boy! You’ll ruin everything. Do you understand? Everything! When you come here we fuck: that’s it. That’s all.”

I don’t understand. I don’t know what she’s saying. What about the talking? The dancing? The music?

And then I realise. It’s me. It’s me: I’m so fucked up and disgusting that a woman as fine as Elena could never want or need my love. She’s revolted by it; she’s right to be revolted by it. I’ve always known that I was made wrong. She’s tried to show me a way to live with it and I’ve thrown it all in her face.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be so fucking pathetic, Christian! Don’t you have any control? Do you always have to behave like a fucking child? What’s the matter with you, for fucks sake?”

She carries on shouting at me, yelling at me about needing control, telling me what I already knew about myself and I can’t stand it. Not from her. Please, not from her.

She grabs my face in her hands.

“Look at me!” she snarls, and slaps my cheek hard.

I look into her beautiful, angry eyes and something inside me snaps. I’ve reached my limit.

“Red!” I whisper. “Red! Red! Red!”

I close my eyes tightly and turn my head away from her. There’s a sudden silence.

I feel the bed shift as she moves up towards the headboard. She unties my hands, lifting them down so they rest at my side.

Her fingers are in my hair, stroking it softly.

“My poor boy,” she croons. “My poor baby.”

We lie like that for some time as she strokes my hair and my face.

When my body has stopped trembling she sits up.

“Time for you to go now, Christian.”

I nod, feeling numb. She leaves the room and I pull on my T-shirt and running shorts.

I walk home slowly. I don’t have the energy to run. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know how to feel.

“Happy birthday, Christian!” trills Mia as she sees me walking through the kitchen.

It’s like I’ve lost my voice so I just stare at her. Her face falls and I know I’ve hurt her but there’s nothing left inside me. I don’t know what to feel.

 ~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

99 Comments Post a comment
  1. 08/4/2012
    debbie

    well done fab story xx

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thanks, Debbie.

      Reply
  2. 08/4/2012

    Amazing! Just, wow.

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      Ta, Frisky.

      Reply
  3. 08/4/2012
    karen

    Where are my tissues, I need them. Honestly I had to stop reading to find them. Now I’m a mess. What a moving piece. At the begining I felt like I understood why she C felt she helped him (which has always been difficult for me to understand). The end of the piece… well it was really cruel. It defined her as all she really is. A pedofile, but a deeply damaged woman herself. To reject his love so cruely. How she perverted sex and love for him and taught him to disassociate the two. It solidified his self loathing. Set a path for Rigid control. Why would he ever put him self out there again when she cut him so deeply. And he is still a child, in full puberty, so emotional and unsure a time for a healthy boy, but he’s already so damaged so the knife cuts deeper.

    You’ve written a great piece. I’m moved by it, I must say to a dark place. So If I may ask that you give us another piece soon to bring me out of my saddness….please

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012

      As this very moment I am Skyping Jane and she too is having all sorts of funny things going on over there – with the FanFic sites. Maybe the WWW is having a dummy spit.

      Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      Kirsten

      Karen, I think we need to re-read a chapter or 2 of Taylor to bring us back to our happy place.

      Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thank you, Karen. Hellishly hard to write. I almost didn’t finish it. Lisa knows I held off for several days from posting it – I nearly didn’t. Glad you think it was worth it.

      Reply
      • 08/5/2012
        Brooke

        It was definitely worth posting. That was great writing from you as usual. Thanks, please keep all of your stories coming! ;D

      • 08/5/2012
        sunandsurf

        Thanks, Brooke. The great comments are a relief, believe me.

      • 08/5/2012
        S.Norman

        It was worth it. The safewording – you can actually feel where it came from. Jeez, so much deeper than ANYTHING in FSOG, thank you, thank you. This was powerful – it will stay with me for a long time. God, him saying is softly brought tears to my eyes, I could actually go there. Wow.

      • 08/5/2012
        sunandsurf

        Thank you so much. What an amazing comment to get. All of you. And thank you Blog Mistress. Lots.

      • 08/5/2012

        Jane, it’s the Blog Master. It’s always been the Blog Master. Cut the Mistress will ya – I’m too much of a tomboy for such frills and fanciness.

  4. 08/4/2012
    Kirsten

    Wow! You’ve outdone yourself Jane. Unexpected really. Of course Christian can take the physical pain, it’s the emotional aspect that he doesn’t know how to handle. Poor Fifty. Thanks for helping to piece this together, it really is brilliant.

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thanks, K. Yes, the emotional pain damages him far more than anything she could do to him physically. Tough stuff.

      Reply
  5. 08/4/2012
    Mericat

    Elena– What a fuckin pedophile. Taking the sexual and loving feelings of a young man/boy and making him feel shit about himself when he is so fucked up already…… I wish Christian could totally see her for what she is. Excellent expose of how a predator works on children.

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      A challenge to get the balance on this. But your reaction is what I’d have hoped for. Thank you.

      Reply
  6. 08/4/2012
    Nan Virden

    Fantastic story! My heart is bleeding for poor fucked up confused misunderstood Christian. My anger centers on that bitch Elena confusing him even more; making him hate himself and feel unworthy of love. Your words are an eye opener. Love it. Love the story, love Christian, hate Elena.

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      Can you imagine how Grace would feel if she ever know the truth? And this had gone on while Christian was so young? Sick. Sick. Sick.

      Reply
  7. 08/4/2012
    n-boston

    “Now I’ve got you where I want you, what shall I do with you?” was what I requested.
    “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Christ! Why do I saddle myself with such losers? What a complete fuck up! You stupid boy! You’ll ruin everything. ” was what I received.

    So easy to see how a tumultuously aroused and confused adolescent Christian became a rigid, obsessive, emotionally shut-down and conflicted adult. Given his formative experiences in earliest childhood, he would likely always have attachment issues, but coming into his sexuality as an adolescent (literally) under Elena created the tortured Christian psyche we so love to ache for.

    Thank you, Jane and The Blog Mistress, for this contest and opportunity. Please know I am humbled and in your debt. No one has ever written a story for me before.
    Jane, you know how I feel about your writing. 🙂
    Thank you.

    Reply
    • 08/4/2012
      sunandsurf

      It was a challenge, honey, for sure, so I’m really glad you enjoyed having a story written for you. Yep, all yours. Humble not needed, just keep on reading, please. jx

      Reply
      • 08/4/2012
        n-boston

        You’d have to restrain me to stop me.
        One can only hope.
        🙂

      • 08/4/2012
        sunandsurf

        Bless you.

      • 08/4/2012

        I’m thinking this story is going to stay in our minds for a little while yet.
        When I first read it a few days ago I was quite disturbed: I’m a hard core bitch and somewhat emotionally devoid but this one sure hit me for a six.

  8. 08/4/2012
    Karena

    Awesome……. wow!! I loved this one shot story, however it sickened me knowing how Elena just fucking rocked Christians world mentally.. Poor Grace……… If she only knew sooner.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thanks, Karena. Yes, pretty sick. Probably just as well Grace never found out. It would break her.

      Reply
  9. 08/4/2012
    yrenecvasquez

    I’m taking this from Karen “How she perverted sex and love for him and taught him to disassociate the two. It solidified his self loathing. Set a path for Rigid control” Elena is a monster! and that moment when he felt he doesn’t deserved her love, that he is the unlovable…. it’s so hard to read… Great done!!!

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Yes, I thought Christian could take any physical abuse but it’s the mental abuse that breaks him in that story. Hard. Yes.

      Reply
  10. 08/4/2012
    Mrs. Chuck

    Loved it!

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thank you, Mrs C.

      Reply
  11. 08/4/2012
    Holly

    Wow. That was great. I can certainly see how he felt she helped him and at the same time she probably hurt him even worse. Confirmed his beliefs that he was not worth loving.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Exactly. Trapped him in his pit of self-loathing for the next 12 years. A very dark and lonely place.

      Reply
  12. 08/4/2012
    Elody

    Wow! that was quite heavy, emotional and mostly sad…poor, ill-fated 16 year old Christian! No idea his fate was sealed on his 16th birthday….declaring his love to a seriously depraved & degenerate (woman!) like Elena!! That is child abuse right there….!
    Well, you have certainly outdone yourself in writing this amazing story and giving some indepth insite to Christian’s subsequent lifestyle and the cause of the depravity…

    At first I thought it would be great if you continue to write another chapter to enhance this story but it would just lean towards more sadness as we all know that he continues the lifestyle until lovely Anastasia becomes part of his life….consequently saving his life!

    REALLY great writing!! THANK YOU..
    ….any more from Taylor’s POV…pretty pretty please???

    Elody (UK)

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Dead right. That’s why it’s a one-shot. At least in the Fifty After Twenty he’s got some control back in his life, but that is dark, too. Definitely need some Taylor action soon. You’ll get your wish, Elody!

      Reply
  13. 08/4/2012

    WOW!! I didn’t think I had it in me to despise this woman any more…but after reading this..I find there is way lot more room…how could she?..

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Yup. That’s why it was a bitch to write. She’s pretty much damaged goods herself – but she was the one with the power for years in their ‘relationship’.

      Reply
  14. 08/4/2012

    This just sad… I wnt slap tht Bitch Troll and hug him and him everything is ok..

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      I know. I feel the same.

      Reply
  15. 08/4/2012
    Lillimarlene

    Brilliant and insightful. I thought initially that perhaps, Elena did help a troubled teen sort himself out but then she displayed her true colours, what a predator. As you say, she was taking a big risk seducing Christian, if he had told a family member then potentially, she would have been in a great deal of trouble.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      She chose her prey well. And the worst thing is, it was Grace who supplied all the knowledge. Sad, sad.

      Reply
  16. 08/5/2012
    Chris L

    Not as terrible an experience as I had imaged, but still pretty horrible. Elena and Christian both reinforcing his belief that he is unlovable/undeserving of love. Powerful Stuff you wrote.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thanks, Chris. It was dark enough for me. It took me 2 days to write it and have all that angst in my brain. It’s still bubbling around in there.

      Reply
  17. 08/5/2012
    Katherine

    Another great story, written brilliantly especially given the subject, well done you

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Thanks, Katherine. Yes, difficult subject.

      Reply
  18. 08/5/2012
    Sophie Fitzherbert

    This just solidify my loathing of Elena!!! Gosh, to pounce on a boy like that is very cruel and out of this world f***ed-up! Christian was a wreck emotionally and Elena didn’t do anything to help on that aspect but just add up/ fueled his self-loathing! I really hate her, a pedophile at its finest haha. I am just wondering if/ how did Elena got into this BDSM thing… Was it her first or was she doing it even before Christian entered the picture… Another great story. One that will not easily slide off our minds. She is a monster haha! P.S. Jane and sunandsurf? One person? Just wondering.
    Again, well done and looking forward for new chapters… soon, I hope. (: Off to bed now!

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Still hanging around in my mind, too.
      Yes, sunandsurf = Jane = me. Because I live by the beach, sunandsurf was my first penname…

      Reply
  19. 08/5/2012
    Lilly4848

    Devil’s Advocate here……..
    Elena may be all of the things that all of you are saying about her, BUT she did get him to stop drinking and she did keep him away from drugs. She did teach him self control, thus stopping the fighting. Self control also helped when he started his business. She guided him from a path of destruction and set him on a path forward.

    It would be different if he was getting help for his problems from someone else, but nothing his parents were doing was helping him. They had been trying different therapists for years, to no avail. If Elena hadn’t been there, he would have dropped out of school. He would have become an alcoholic, a drug addict, and would have gone to prison or died or both. Had that happened, there would have been no coming back; no chance to heal. She may have fucked him up, but she made it possible for him to continue on with his life, and eventually, with Ana’s (and Flynn’s) help, he was healed.

    This is why Christian believes she saved him. I can see his point.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      But don’t most teenagers go through a stage where it’s them against the world, that no-one understands them, and that life is shit? They’re alienated from everyone and everything, full of self-loathing (prey to anorexia, body dysmorphia) etc etc… And then grow out of it. I accept that some teenagers get lost along the way. But who’s to say that Christian wouldn’t have found another way.
      On the other hand, I do enjoy a bit of controversy!!

      Reply
      • 08/5/2012
        Lilly4848

        Oh yes. I agree that most teens go through years of having no brains. In fact, if they don’t then something is probably wrong with them. LOL
        But I just got the feeling from the books that it was something more with Christian, and that it wasn’t just a phase. I think that’s what HE believed.

        Off topic comment: I just discovered another actor that might be good to play Christian. He was in the movie, Step Up with Channing Tatum, and he plays J R Ewing on the new Dallas. His name is Josh Henderson. (of course, Ian is still my first choice, even if he’d have to color his hair.)

      • 08/6/2012
        sunandsurf

        I didn’t mean to imply it was just a phase with Christian, but a more extreme example of what most teens go through. He had all his old issues, plus a body full of raging, teenage hormones, and no coping mechanism whatsoever. I suspect, in his case, those years of therapy had rather encouraged his view, solidified it even, that he was ‘made wrong’.
        Still RP for me!

  20. 08/5/2012
    Lilly4848

    Oh, I forgot to say how much I loved this one shot. I love all of your work and look forward to reading more. You’re so good.

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Ta!

      Reply
  21. 08/5/2012
    Sophie Fitzherbert

    Okay, got it… So “The Blog Master”, too? One and the same? Sorry… To Lily4848, I get that, I didn’t really see her like that but, yes, you are right on there (:

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012

      I am the one and only Blog Master, sometimes I’m known as Jane’s Slave but I’m actually also Lisa. Sometimes I also answer to ‘Hey You’! But this blog is really two people with a whole pile of split personalities – that being Jane the writer (England) and Lisa the overall shit kicker (Australia) both loved by many.

      Reply
    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      No, hon. I meant sunandsurf = Jane; the Blog Mistress is a separate entity!

      Reply
      • 08/6/2012
        Sophie Fitzherbert

        Okay, got it! Sorry for bothering you guys… just got confused.
        Still reeling from this one shot story… And to read the different point of view of others is “enlightening.”

      • 08/6/2012
        sunandsurf

        However you read it is absolutely fine. Yes, the comments have been fascinating and thoughtful.

  22. 08/5/2012
    Jennifer

    Another amazing story. I was expecting him to safe word from physical pain like Elena touching his chest, never expected it to be from emotional pain. Great job!

    Reply
    • 08/5/2012

      There was a lot going on with this piece and I thought to tell you about the background stuff when Jane was writing it – a little insight into Jane.
      I too approached Jane about how RRR could have been a little bit more traumatic – I was edging on the breach of trust thing too and that Elena would finalise her evil words by touching his ‘no go zones’ – but that would have been obvious. Anyway, from what I remember she does that somewhere in the trilogy.
      Jane wanted to play down that and concentrate more on the psychology. Yes, Jane could have expanded more and more on those horrible words spewing out from the ‘Bitch Troll From Hell’s’ (BTFH) mouth, to further crucify Christian, but what was the point here? How much is enough? Sometimes so few words can say so much more.
      Christian, with his poor treatment by his mother, and her pimp, a deprived child of love, something natural that a youngster not only needed but craved: Christian at four was already emotionally burned. And then the BTFH took full advantage of that, but also having knowledge of his tormented babyhood, had stepped it up by such a hurtful hurtful attack on an already emotionally and psychologically damaged and vulnerable boy. Christian was already doubtful about his self-worth before his sixteenth birthday but what happened on that day, in the clutches of the BTFH, was the final nail in the coffin of Christian’s heart, for what could have been forever.
      From his sixteenth birthday, nothing short of a miracle was going to penetrate his heart and soul EVER again – well how could it, Elena took both on the day.
      Jane always gives you, the reader, some room to come to some conclusions of your own.
      If you read some of the Fifty Shades of Twenty chapters it naturally progresses from the RRR story of Christian from 16 to 20 and the part Elena played throughout those years. Forget the physical abuse, it’s all about the psychological and emotional abuse Elena held over him all those years. That’s a lot of years to reprogrammed from.
      Remember Christian’s breaking point in Chapter 8 of Twenty? He’d been stewing all those years – give me a physical beating any day; this mind and emotional dance is sole destroying, as we all found out in James’ trilogy. Living a life not believing you can love and be loved… Phew!
      James also touched on some of those awful things Elena did, so there’s snippets everywhere, enough to give you the background. But the story of Fifty in its entirety was not so much regurgitating the entire past but how Ana dragged Christian out of such a dark dark place to where he is now. Actually believing that he can love and be loved… Phew again!
      I know first-hand what that would have taken for both Christian and Ana – like I said beat me with a brick rather than take my heart and soul and then stomp on it. The worst kind of abuser – me thinks anyway.
      There’s only so much ‘detail’ the author should provide: too much is overkill, too little never satisfies. A brilliant writer finds the balance of both and that’s a damn hard job to do.
      Jane tells me that this piece was by far the hardest she’s ever done – she needed to walk away from it several times to come back to it with a clearer head and heart. We are all very passionate about our boy Christian, but maybe it’s because we see a little bit of ourselves, or someone we know, in him.
      I haven’t been able to do much this weekend, I can’t stop thinking about this piece and what’s truly disturbing is that I’m sure there are plenty of people out there suffering the same fate. That is sad, very very sad indeed.

      Reply
      • 08/6/2012
        Sophie Fitzherbert

        Very well said and explained.

      • 08/16/2012
        edwina

        loved the story line and yet again im putting pieces of the jig saw together hate bitch troll even more now x

      • 08/17/2012
        sunandsurf

        Indeed!

    • 08/5/2012
      sunandsurf

      Ah, yes. You’ve got it, Jennifer. I always thought the emotional pain would be worse for him.

      Reply
  23. 08/5/2012
    s. Norman

    Thank you for this. The tone was perfect. Not too much, not too little. I agree his safewording had to b emotional and not physical. Emotional is everlasting physical pain can be overcome. This would explain Christian’s devastation over
    Ana safewording. The character of Christian is so much more interesting than Ana. The book could have been so much better. You have proven that here. Thank-you.

    Reply
    • 08/6/2012
      sunandsurf

      Interesting point about Ana safewording! You’re so right.

      Reply
    • 08/6/2012
      n-boston

      s.Norman: Yes! re your point about Christian’s reaction to Ana’s safeword – the pain and betrayal and realization was so similar.

      Reply
      • 08/6/2012
        sunandsurf

        Loving all you gals in the Sub Club!

  24. 08/6/2012
    Jamoca

    OMG….I am bawling like a baby….the reason he “safe worded” with her was a complete surprise……S ‘n S you are amazing!….The emotional pain is the most heart felt…..i am blown away………..let me go curl up and cry some more!
    Oh and BTW i am hating the bitch troll more by the minute!

    Reply
    • 08/6/2012
      sunandsurf

      Oh, honey. That story should have come with a free box of tissues. But love that you had such a strong reaction.

      Reply
  25. 08/6/2012
    Bing

    Elena may have helped him straighten himself out but the damage she caused was undescribable.

    What was that she said? Love is a useless emotion…
    But love healed him in the end.

    Bravo as always, Jane…my hats off to you.

    Reply
    • 08/6/2012
      sunandsurf

      Elena was the loser in the end. Thank you for the hats, too.

      Reply
  26. 08/13/2012
    Mericat

    So very very sad for Christian. A boy’s love, even tho messed up, should be respected. Makes me want to cry

    Reply
  27. 08/14/2012

    Burn in Hell Mrs. Robinson.

    Reply
    • 08/14/2012
      sunandsurf

      Don’t be afraid to say what you think, hon!

      Reply
  28. 08/25/2012
    bel

    i thought christian said he never loved mrs robinson??

    Reply
    • 08/25/2012
      sunandsurf

      He thought he did at the time but once he met Ana he realised what true love really is.

      Reply
  29. 09/17/2012
    Dw

    I am speechless!…
    Powerful chapter … insightful … both the RRR scene and the ending so emotionally charged …
    But what surprised me most is Elena’s reaction to Christian’s “I love you”. Most women would be flattered … You really got me thinking here, Jane…

    … Is it possible that CG is not the first minor of Elena’s conquests? … Perhaps the previous one was so ‘in love’ it got out off hand? … Maybe … ouch … maybe the reason for Linc being a controlling husband and not allowing her to work is that she … was a TEACHER involved in some statutory rape scandal (not necessary BDSM style) that he had to hash up before? … Maybe she decided that BDSM would be the answer to how to keep her infatuation with young boys secret?… She does strike like Domme in training (home made or DIY training) in this story…

    You really got my head spinning … Oh … the possibilities are endless aren’t they, Jane?

    Dw (Dorota)

    Reply
    • 09/17/2012
      Dw

      … sorry – Should have being “She does strike me like” ;(
      … maybe a Freudian slip… ? wonder whet Dr Flynn would make of that 😉
      Dw

      Reply
  30. 10/11/2012
    anan8808

    I have avoided reading this chapter because I did not know what to expect. The uncertainty of Christian being hurt by Elena ( physically) weighed on me.You , as a writer, have taken an in-depth look at Christian and Elena’s relationship and have made me ,as a reader feel pain, feel, loss , disappointment. And this is a testament to you.

    Reply
    • 10/12/2012
      Jane H-B

      Thank you, Ana. I had deep reservations about writing it but I hope I managed to find an explanation for Christian and Elena’s disturbed and disturbing relationship. Thank you for your thoughtful comment.

      Reply
  31. 10/11/2012
    Marta

    Speechless…I mean your writing is amazing… But I am hating Elena so much that I don’t know what to say…

    Reply
    • 10/12/2012
      Jane H-B

      Thank you, Marta. That comment is… just perfect.

      Reply
  32. 10/19/2012
    greysdoll

    I need a moment here. . . I so wanna kill Elena. Well written. Great Job. and Can we kill Elena? hate her so much….

    Reply
  33. 10/22/2012
    Annie

    The Bitch Troll is so CRUEL and EVIL. My heart breaks for Christian. To torture him emotionally in this way is sick and nasty. I’m so glad he saw the light. Eventually.

    Reply
  34. 10/27/2012

    Jane I don’t know what to say or how to say it. I cried. This made Christians actions in FSOG make so much more since. I often wondered why Christian could not think he was loved after being raised by his family. This happening to him at such a vulnerable age along with his first 4 years would insure his feelings of being unlovable. His emotional growth would have been sealed shut. It also explains her continued control of him until his birthday. Your writing is very fluid and readable. You have a wonderful rhythm . I have enjoyed these stories tremendously. Have you thought of putting these stories in page form on Pinterest? There are so many like me on there who collect everything to do with Christian and Ana. Or maybe an ad to lead folks back here to your Blog. Just a thought. Again thank you and know how much pleasure you bring to us all with your writings.
    Lee

    Reply
    • 10/28/2012
      Jane H-B

      Thanks you so much, Lee. It was a tough one to write but ultimately fulfilling when people like you take the trouble to leave such amazing comments.

      Reply
  35. 10/27/2012

    like what christian said to elena, “you taught me how to f*** elena! it’s empty…like you!”, “you never once held me…you never onc e said you loved me.” (e.l. james, fifty shades darker). it was ana who finally helped him realize that his relationship with elena was wrong. it was ana who taught him how to love.
    brilliant chapter and exceptionally written!

    Reply
    • 10/28/2012
      Jane H-B

      Thank you, very much, Skin.

      Reply
  36. 11/20/2012
    Natasha

    OMG……….what can I say that was….. unbelievable your writing took me to some places I am unable to describe Elena is jut VILE she need serious help. I always pictured something like that happened when I read FSOG but you just brought it to life and beyond.THANK YOU.

    Reply
    • 11/21/2012
      Jane H-B

      Thanks, Natasha. It was a challenge to write, for sure.

      Reply
  37. 12/2/2012
    Donnaxxx

    Great story loved itxxx

    Reply
    • 12/5/2012
      Jane H-B

      Hard to write but glad you enjoyed it.

      Reply
  38. 12/6/2012
    grublue

    Hi Jane, I reread your one-shots from time to time, and this one always leaves me as an emotional wreck.
    No wonder you had a heart time writing it.
    Brilliant work of yours.

    Reply
    • 12/7/2012
      Jane H-B

      I don’t like thinking of him in such pain. Glad you found it a good read though.

      Reply
  39. 12/6/2012
    grublue

    I wanted to say hard time. Not heart time. But some heart wouldn’t do the bitch any wrong.

    Reply
  40. 01/13/2013
    B

    What can I say that every other comment hasn’t already said? Really loved this story. It was very touching, and sad. All sympathy to young Christian and his family who tries to help him everyday. And, of course all hate to the pedophile.

    Reply
    • 01/13/2013
      Jane H-B

      Thanks, hon. Glad you found it touching – lovely comment.

      Reply
  41. 10/6/2013

    The BTFH treated CG as a pitiful sex object and shattered his self-worth completely. I often wondered when Christian’s heart and soul fractured from his mind and now thanks to your short story I know. You should have written FSOG you have more depth to your writing

    Reply
    • 10/14/2013
      Jane H-B

      I really appreciate that comment, Mau. Thank you very much. It was a really hard story to write and I debated quite a while whether I wanted to write a scene about child abuse. But I think it did serve a purpose. Thanks for taking the trouble to write. jx

      Reply

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