Story: Make Me Whole Again

I'm so glad people seem to have found my blog. Greetings, especially to those of you I know from SSS.

Because Natty mentioned it, I thought I'd post a story I wrote several years ago, before I met my wife. As I noted when I posted it to SSS, even though I wrote it before I met her, we've had several of the scenes work out almost exactly the same in real life. However, the story is fiction. Warning: it has some flashback scenes of abuse.



Make Me Whole Again
=================

"Hey, you," Janey said fondly, and kissed the top of my head. "Can I watch with you?" She sat down on the arm of the chair. "We could cuddle on the couch while we watch," she suggested.

"Because cuddling fits in so well with Tales from the Crypt," I laughed, but I got up to sit next to her. I lay my head on her shoulder, and wished… I don't quite know what I wished for, but I wished I felt different. It had been my day for therapy, and I really hate going to therapy. It stirs up all kinds of things I'd rather not think about. And it was worse than usual today.

Janey pulled loose several locks of my hair, and twisted them around her fingers. We snuggled, not saying anything, even during the commercials. When the show was over, Janey picked up the remote, and hit mute. I continued to stare at the TV screen.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" I asked evasively.

Janey sighed. "Did you think I forgot this was therapy day? You're really spaced out. Do you want to talk?"

"I'm fine."

"I know you're fine. Do you want to talk."

I snuggled into her shoulder. I sighed. "It's. it just stirs things up. I'd really rather not talk."

Janey nodded. We cuddled some more, while watching television without any sound. Then Janey turned the t.v. off. She walked towards the kitchen. "I'm making tea. What kind do you want?"

"Headache tea," I sighed, knowing she wouldn't let me just have none at all. I sat at one of the stools in the kitchen, and watched her making a pot of tea. We sat in silence as it steeped, and then as we drank our tea. Janey looked worried, but she gave me space.

When we went to bed, she rubbed my back, still not saying anything. I closed my eyes.


**************
SMACK!! And then the sound of the belt being put down on the floor. I shuddered, hating the next part even more. "Stand up," my stepfather ordered..
**************

I shuddered, and opened my eyes. Janey's hand paused. "Are you okay."

"Um-hm." My voice was muffled. I really didn't want to talk. I wanted to blank out the sounds and the voices.

"Here. Why don't I read you a story?"

I rolled over enough to look at Janey. "Read me a story?!"

"Sure. I'll keep reading, and we'll see if we can't get you to sleep without any nightmares. It worked for me when I was little." She stood and looked through the bookshelf. "How about. oh, this is a good one. How about Spindle's End?"

I nodded, since I've always wanted to hear that book read out loud.

"The magic in that country was so thick and tenacious that it settled over the land like chalk-dust and over floors and shelves like slightly sticky plaster-dust," Janey began. I snuggled into bed, listening to the words of the story, and I fell asleep before the mean fairy even showed up at the christening.

**************
"Mommy! Mommy! It's the monster again!" A hand covered my mouth, a dark voice muttered, "Shut up! If she heard, you're going to get it tomorrow!"

I lay silent, and the sounds began again. It hurt..
**************

"Michelle. Sweetie, wake up, it's a bad dream, honey." Janey's hand was rubbing my back again. I sat up, blinking my eyes until I could see the clock. 3 in the morning. I sighed.

"I'm sorry, Janey. Go back to sleep. I'll be fine."

"It's not a problem, Michelle. Do you want to talk?"

"It was just a dream. I'll be fine."

Janey turned on the light. "Here, I'll read some more to you. Don't close your eyes until you've heard some more of the story. You don't have to think. I'll keep reading until I'm sure you're asleep, okay?" I blinked back tears, and nodded. It felt so stupid. When I was little, I could keep myself from having nightmares. But lately, it's been every single night. I can't make them go away. They even float up when I think I'm awake. But I drifted off to the sound of Janey's voice, and if I had any more dreams, they didn't wake me.


The next day was better. I was able to focus on my classes, and I didn't jump every time I heard a sound behind me. By Friday night, I actually felt like myself again. I called Janey to invite her over for dinner. Her housemate answered the phone. "Hi, Sam. Is Janey there? I wanted to know if she wants to come over for dinner?"

I heard Sam calling to Janey, but couldn't quite hear what she said. Janey got on the phone. "At your house, eh? Will I be allowed to bring anything, or will you insist on being a total kitchen top?"

"I know you are, but what am I?" I asked, in my brattiest tone.

"You're clearly feeling better. Do you need anything from the store?"

"You can bring dessert," I offered generously. "Ben and Jerry's," I added, then thought for a second about what I was cooking. "Bring that Turtle kind, with the nuts, if they have it. Or else Chocolate Fudge Brownie."

"Leaving me a lot of room for variation, aren't you? You are so bossy."

"Rubber, glue." I pointed out. "Okay, see ya in a bit."

"Uhm-hm. Love you."

"Love ya too."


After dinner, we were snuggling in front of the television, watching a re-run of Star Trek the Next Generation and eating ice cream. It was another of the ones showing off Riker's heterosexual prowess, so after I was tired of eating ice cream, I whined, "This is boooorrrriinng." Janey just raised her eyebrow, since I'm the one who picked the show in the first place.

I commented, "You know, Liza's spending the weekend at her girlfriend's, and Gwen's out dancing until who knows when.."

"So?" Janey said lazily, raising an eyebrow.

"So we have the house to ourselves. Let's get rid of this ice cream, and go up to my room." Janey held out her hand for my spoon, and took the ice cream to the freezer. She put the spoons in the sink, and headed upstairs.

I let her go up the stairs ahead of me, and kept trying to peek under her skirt on the way up. I don't know why, but it amused me a lot to do that.

"Stop that," she said, irritably. "I'm gonna trip if you're not careful."

"No you're not," I argued, just for the sake of argument.

"Good grief, you're in a bratty mood."

"Maybe you should do something about that," I challenged.

"Perhaps I should," she said, and shut the bedroom door. She sat down on the bed, with her back to the wall. I lay myself across her thighs, in case she hadn't gotten the right hint.

Spank. Spank. Smack. Her hand was gentle, but she paused to rub, in case there might be any sting. Smack. Smack! Spank. Rub. Smack! Smack! Rub.

"Want to take off your jeans? This can be more effective." she suggested.

I scrambled out of my jeans and lay back down. Smack. Smack! Spank. Smack! Her hand gently caressed my thigh. She paused in question, and then slowly rubbed between my legs. It felt sweet and good.

All of a sudden, I started crying. Janey pulled her hand away, quickly, and then slowly rubbed my back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I sobbed, "It's just.." But years of training kept the words from slipping past my lips. Even though I knew better, deep down inside, I still believed that my stepfather would appear to hurt me if I ever told. I had to stay safe.

Janey kept rubbing my back. "Is it about your stepfather?"

I nodded. She kept rubbing. Finally, I thought of what I could manage to say. "Janey, I like when you spank me. It's exactly the opposite of…" that part, I couldn't say. "Can you keep doing like you were doing, before I started to cry? It felt so good."

"But.." Janey sounded really uncomfortable.

"No, really. I'll tell you to stop if I need you to. You always say it isn't bad to cry," I added. I turned to face her, blinking through the tears. "Really. It's the good kind of crying, where you'll feel better after. And I liked the way it felt, to have a gentle spanking, and good touching." It was much easier to talk about what I wanted right now, rather than the things I'd had before, that I hadn't wanted. Janey slowly nodded, and turned me around.

Spank. Rub. Spank. Smack. Smack! Smack. "You are such a good person," she said. Spank. Rub. Smack! "And you're so beautiful." Smack. Spank. Spank. Smack! Rub. "I love you so very much." I continued to cry, and she continued to gently spank me and caress me.


Janey sat at one of the stools the next morning, watching me chop potatoes for breakfast. As I tossed them in the spices, she asked, "How are you?"

"Don't social work me," I said irritably.

"How could I?" she asked, reasonably, "I'm not a social worker."

I put the potatoes on a cookie sheet, and put it in the oven. I leaned against the counter. "Omelettes, or scrambled eggs?"

"Omelettes, I think," she answered. "And how are you?"

The woman is nothing, if not persistent. "I'm fine. Really." I cracked several eggs into a bowl. "Here, grate this cheese." She raised an affectionate eyebrow, but did as I said.

I watched the butter melt in the pan. As I swirled it, I turned to look at her. "I have an idea. Why don't we get more flexible safe words?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, like if I could use one word to say, 'keep going,' and another to say stop."

Janey looked amused. "What, and one to say, 'slow down.'"

"Yeah. Like traffic signals. How about red light, green light, yellow
light?"

"It's a thought."



Things seemed to be settling down, but then, the next Wednesday, it was the same as ever before. Every time I closed my eyes all day after therapy, the memories came rushing back. It made no sense. I was tired of it.

Janey watched me as we ate dinner. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she gave me space.

When it got to be bedtime, I said, "Maybe I should sleep at home. I'll probably be having nightmares again."

"Why should you go home? Who'd read stories to you, so you can sleep?"

**************
SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!! "I told you not to say anything!" SMACK!
"Why were you talking to your teacher?" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"But I didn't SAY anything!" The tears ran down my face. "I promise, I didn't!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Don't lie to me! She called the house today!" SMACK! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" SMACK! SMACK! "I promise!! I didn't say ANYthing! Maybe she just wanted to talk!"

He put the belt on the floor. I took a deep breath. It was over. He sat down. I closed my eyes. It was only beginning.
**************


"Michelle! It's a dream!" Janey shook me awake. She rubbed my back. "Do you want a story?" The light was already on.

"Yes, please," I sighed.

She handed me a mug. "Here's the rest of your tea. Drink some, it's still warm."

"I HATE therapy," I said.

"No you don't," she replied. "You hate what you remember." She opened the book, and began the next chapter.



I felt better than I'd expected the next day. When Janey went upstairs to take a bath before bed, I joined her, and events followed the natural progression.

We cuddled in bed, warm and damp. Janey stroked my back, and then her hand shifted slowly down my back, and reached between my thighs. I flinched. "Yellow light," I whispered. Her hand paused.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. It's fine." She continued.

I felt a knot of tension release, and tears started to fall. Janey stopped.

"Green light," I said, and turned to face her. She looked into my eyes, and continued.

I kept crying, but I had never felt so safe, or so happy.