Page 89 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Tears burned my eyes, my emotions far too close to the surface. Probably unhealthily close to the surface.

Me:Oh, no worries! That’s fine. Completely understand. Of course you have other things to do.

X:Lori, don’t do that.

Me:Do what?

X:Lie.

I slouched.

Me:You know, you should leave a girl with some dignity. Calling me out for lying when I say it’s fine that you refused my offer of a date isn’t very nice.

X:It’s not that I don’t want to say yes.

Me:But you’re saying no anyway.

Pained bravery made me send another text.

Me:You call me out on my lie, so I guess that means you want me to be honest. Alright then…how about I’m totally, brutally honest in a way that petrifies me but what do I have to lose?

X:That’s all I want. I just want you to heal and be happy. I don’t mean to upset you in any way.

Oh God.

Could you stop being sonice?

Glancing at the ceiling and the drying seed heads and herbs that permeated almost every room in this house, I swallowed back fresh fear.

Penguin sensed my stress and nudged my hand.

“I really, really shouldn’t say this. IknowI shouldn’t. If it was to any other person, there’s no way I would, but…he’s different. He’s the one who took it upon himself to hear all my secrets. What’s the point in keeping this one?”

The kitten scrambled off my lap and padded toward the kitchen.

My phone pinged but I focused on Penguin instead. I had to feed him again. I’d given him breakfast and my heart had melted when he’d sucked on the bottle, drinking down his formula like a dainty pussy cat, only to dive headfirst into a bowl of wet food and snarf up an entire packet with no manners whatsoever.

He’s hungry again.

Zander would never forgive me if I didn’t provide the best care possible to his little rescue.

Climbing to my feet, I followed him, loving the sway of his long tail and falling madly in love as he looked over his shoulder and meowed as if making sure I was following.

Scooping him from the floor, I placed him on the counter while I mixed him another bowl of formula. He didn’t wait for the bottle this time, slurping it right from the saucer.

While he got a milk moustache, I pulled up the message thread.

X:What did you want to be honest about?

Leaning against the well-loved sink, I sighed as warm sunshine coated my shoulders from the window. I put every last shred of my self-worth on the line.

Me:I can’t speak for other women who lived through what I did, but for me? The physical abuse was the first hurdle to get over. But the thing with bruises and broken bones is, they heal. They heal rather fast and eventually you look in the mirror and there’s no evidence of being hurt at all. The second part is the guilt and shame. I keep thinking it’s my fault that he hurt me because I didn’t see who he truly was. I was blind and let myself down, and I know it’s not rational, but I still feel responsible—like I can’t trust myself anymore because I didn’t see the signs that had to be there. Which leads me to the third thing.

I pressed send but didn’t wait for his reply.

Me:What happened that night stole away my self-worth and my sexuality. For a while, I hated my body for being so weak and unable to fight back, but…being in your arms last night reminded me I like being small because being comforted by someone bigger (who I trust) is the best feeling in the world. I didn’t just feel protected last night, I felt cherished, and it’s been a very, very long time since I felt that.

Me:Which leads me to the fourth thing. I think the thing that’s holding me back the most from healing is accepting who I was before. I’m tiny compared to most people. I’m not the bravest but I do like being with a man who treats me right. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I like intimacy. I like sex. And for a very long time now, both those things have been tainted. I have a crush on you, and you have one on me. We both don’t have expectations of where this is going, and I’ll admit that I’m terribly attracted to you. This is so hard to write, but…I want you. Even if it’s just one night. I want you to remind me how to let go and not be afraid of touch. I want to be free of these debilitating memories. So my totally brutally honest confession is…I want you to sleep with me.

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