Page 211 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

I pursed my lips and set the mug down, giving up the guise of pretending to drink the cocoa.Damnit. Outbratted again.

Reuben’s eyes glowed with humor, and he sliced off a piece of his perfect eggs. “Now... Go dump that out and get yourself the unsalted leftovers on the stove. You can clean out the containers after breakfast.”

Reuben set me to workafter breakfast, cleaning and doing laundry and taking care of some other chores we hadn’t gotten to during the week. After lunchtime, we piled the clean laundry on the couch and folded it together, talking and laughing while we did so. He was letting me rant about the solar storms on Jupiter, smiling subtly while I matched socks. I showed him the videos I’d made on my Tik Tok recently, and he laughed a few times. He had such a great laugh.It struck me that not only had he become my Dom, but my friend. It felt really good talking to him. He accepted my crazy, and he listened to me. I trusted him.

He told me about some of the new girls at the treatment center. He also told me more about his time oversees learning to cook under different chefs and his subtle dry humor had me laughing hard enough that my eyes watered.

The conversation fizzled out after a while, and before I could find a new topic to throw myself into, he said, “Alice... what did you mean yesterday when you said your emotions didn’t count?”

Oh boy. Here we go.

“Well, see, you know how I’m crazy?”

“I prefer you not describe yourself that way.”

“Okay,” I rolled my eyes. “You know how I experience more mood swings in an hour than most people do in a month?”

“Sure.”

“My emotions don’t really count, and they’re not reallyreal, because they’re a result of my disorder. Most people have one or two moods a day. I haveallof them. I don’t think you fully realize how badly I swing from despising you to adoring you while you’re not here. Like, even yesterday while I was at the grocery store, I literally wanted to kick you in the balls because I was so frustrated. By the time I got home I liked you again. That’s bullshit and it’s not real. Those moods don’t really count, because it’s just my brain and my disorder playing tricks on me.”

Reuben snapped the wrinkles out of a sheet before folding it. “Okay, I understand where you’re coming from, but that doesn’t mean your emotions aren’t real. It just means that you experience more than the average person does. That doesn’t mean they don’tcount.”

“It does, though. Because I shouldn’t feel that much stuff to that degree.”

“Just because youshouldn’t, doesn’t mean youdon’t. Let me ask you this... someone who has depression, do their emotions count? Does it ‘count’ that they have lows just because they have a mood disorder?”

I pursed my lips and hesitated. “Well, yeah–”

“And someone who has an anxiety disorder. Do their panic attacks‘count’?”

“I mean... yeah, but–”

“So why are you any different? Just because you feel more? Because you feel more moods, more often, at a higher level than others? That doesn’t make sense, Alice.” His tone felt accusatory, and I felt my hackles rise. “Your moods, thoughts, and feelings are just as valid and just as important as anyone else’s, and you do yourself a disservice by denying yourself the right to acknowledge them.”

“But...”

When he put it that way, it seemed so simple.But it’s not simple! It’s the only way I can explain why I feel what I feel!Immediately, I felt frustrated, and dejected that he didn’t get it.Nobody gets me.

“You’ve been telling yourself that your emotions don’t matter, that they’re not real, but you’re really crippling yourself in the long run. I know you do it to shield yourself, to protect yourself, but that kind of invalidation is going to backfire on you.”

He doesn’t understand,I thought, and the anger and frustration at myself and at him began to burn in me.He doesn’t understand what it’s like, to have all these feelings inside me, and not be able to control them or do anything about them.Because he’s normal, and I’m a broken, stupid fuckup.

I unclenched my jaw and forced myself to breathe. “My solution to that is sadomasochism. I need pain. That’s why I need you,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder in an effort to be playful and break the tension. “Because pain helps me get all those emotions out. It’s like pulling the plug, and it all drains away. That’s why I’m a better person with a sadist.”

“I understand that baby, but that’s not a practical, long-term solution. You are going to have to learn a variety of coping mechanisms to deal with your emotions, little bug. If you don’t, and you ever have a time when you can’t indulge in your masochism, you’re going to explode. That’s part of the reason why I care so much about helping you sort through this stuff.”

He put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing my muscles. I exhaled and tried to release the knots that had formed in my neck from this conversation that I didn’t want to sit through or think about.

“There is nothing wrong with using pain as a coping mechanism... unless it’s youronlytool. You need more tools in your toolbox.”

I tried to crush the frustration that was building in me. I knew I was spiraling, but I couldn’t stop it. “You think I haven’t tried? I’ve been going to therapy since I was eighteen, Reuben. You know what helps? Crying until I pass out, and hurting until I can’t see. Not ‘validation,’ or whatever that means.”

“Okay,so faryou haven’t found anything else that works. I understand that.” He sat down and looked at me, knowing I was near the point of snapping at him now. “So, I’m asking you honestly. Remember, you can say no. How open are you to trying new methods?”

I rolled my eyes in frustration. When he said it like that, how could I say no?

Great. Now I feel like a useless bag of emotional garbage who isn’t even trying. And cue waterworks.

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