Thursday, October 6, 2016

Old Friends: Abandonment and Grief

Contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect. I did something really stupid last night. Not only did it end up causing Master’s displeasure (which devastates me), but I’m fairly sure that I hurt the other person involved too.

This morning, when I awoke, I was still a little drunk. Last night, Master had told me that I was a “bad girl.” That is one of the most hurtful things that he can say to me. Don’t misunderstand. I deserved it. Master is still surprised, sometimes, by the vehemence of some of my emotional reactions.

All I remember is sobbing and feeling awful. This morning, when I finally had an opportunity to apply logic to my memories, I recognized the face of an old friend, Abandonment.

Abandonment and I have spent many years together. He is tall, and dark and slender to the point of looking skeletal. He has a hooked nose and tightly pursed lips. He wears a long black trench coat and a black wide brimmed hat. Sometimes, I can hear him calling my name, in a quiet voice like a whisper. If I draw near, his call rises to a shriek that makes me press my hands to my ears.

It seems to me that Abandonment is always hiding nearby, always waiting for me. We met when I was young, and he always comes to visit when things get rocky in my personal life.

Master said, “Bad girl,” and suddenly I could feel Abandonment walking beside me. His dark figure giving off cold rather than heat in proximity.

“You know what this means, little cat. How can your Master… care about someone as foolish as you, as disobedient?”

I could feel the disdain dripping from his tongue and sliding slowly down my spine.

“You can always come and stay with me, little cat. I will be with you until you die – as long as it takes,” Abandonment hissed.

Feeling alone, hurt, and sadly, more than a little drunk, I took Abandonment’s open hand. The dark familiar cold surrounded me. I was wrapped up in his spell. My ears were full of Abandonment’s screech. When my eyes adjusted to the glooming, I saw a small plump woman walking toward me. She was dressed like a poor housewife from the 19th century. Her apron was smeared with flour and her boots sorely scuffed.

I ran forward to meet her, another old friend of mine. Her eyes were kind, but desperately sad. I don’t know her true name, but I have always called her Grief.

We didn’t need to speak, she nor I, nor could we have heard each other anyway. She took me gently in her arms and held me tight to her bosom. My body went limp as I lost myself in her embrace. Tears fell like rain from tired eyes.

I don’t know how much time passed. I barely knew where I was. Experience drove me to find and consume my sleeping pills. With the howl of Abandonment buffeting my ears and the warmth of Grief holding me tight, my body was wracked with sobs, but my eyes closed, and I slept.

It was disturbed sleep. I am purposely not remembering my dream. Upon opening my eyes, I discovered that my two familiar guests had snuck away while I slept.

Master was there. He came to greet me.

“How are you feeling, little one? Is everything ok?”

I nodded. He sat down beside me and held me close. I felt safe and calm in his embrace. I offered some explanation of recent events.

“All you need is a little more training. It’s not a big deal, just a part of the learning process and the process of making you the best slave ever. Keep in mind, I already think you are the perfect slave for me. I will never in my life have another.

You know that I will never leave you. You are mine and I will not let you go. It doesn’t matter what you do. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are the one for me. No doubt at all. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He bent his head and lifted my chin, so that our eyes met. He gently pressed his mouth over mine and whispered, “I love you.”

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