Poor Monster Ch. 02

I am back! I know it's short, forgive me. I hope you are safe and can fight the tyranny. In the meantime...the saga continues

You know what they say about best laid plans. The showcase never happened due to sickness and the school changing its mind about letting us have the space. So, days, weeks, then months went by, and then the lockdown happened, disrupting everything.

I had finished the semester remotely and was struggling to occupy myself. This led to a lot of browsing, high brow reading, low brow reading, pretending to be able to dance, writing, sewing, buying random things, and staring at walls.

I was staring at the wall when I got a notification from the writing group. That week's zoom was cancelled, but we could instead send in any pieces we had on hand and get comments on them. I had downed the last of my coffee (delicious, though it could never wake me up) and sent in one of my older flash fictions.

And as she looked up the railroad tracks, she let out a whoop and twirled, for she was finally free.

I made a noise at the ending.

Really cliche. Ugh. This character just has nowhere to go and has ceased to care. Is that freedom? Maybe...not going down that road.

I emailed it, with a note that I wanted feedback about the ending. After talking with my mom and doing my chores, I cooked.

Cooking, like writing, took me out of myself and that's why I liked it, other than having always loved food. To actually cook, you only need to know a few techniques, have a few simple tools, and then live in your senses. Is the onion firm to the touch? Are the toasting nuts just starting to smell? Does the pasta water taste salty enough? It is almost instinct, touching and tasting your way through.

And to someone who suffered under a 'quirky' mind and a confused heart, it was sometimes a blessed relief to only wait perfectly until the zucchini you were sautéing transformed into the best sauce. And then there was the best part: sharing the art that you had artfully spun.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" My mom asked, looking me over somewhat anxiously.

"Alright, just tending to my famous cauliflower pasta and thinking about faith," I said. I had in fact been trying to process new feelings about faith; while I had the politics I had and the identity I had, that didn't mean I didn't wonder about experiences I had. Realizing that there is evil in the world is a shock to one's system.

"I know that was a lot to think about. Thank you for talking with me the other day. I know you don't open up too much and I appreciate it."

"Of course, mom." I pulled her into a hug.

"How are your cohorts doing?"

"Well, I think," I scratched my cheek awkwardly. Truth be told I hadn't heard from anyone in a while.

"And what about this Gale? Is that his name?" Her tone was musing. I started.

"Gale?"

"You know, that fellow you brought up who did so well in your classes."

When did I bring him up?

"I'm sure he's doing great," I said, getting a bit of a bitter edge in my voice. Truth be told what I said in starting this story wasn't completely true. I was jealous of him too. He seemed to have what I did not, innately. Self assurance, a gift with people.

Resources...

I didn't need to think about my father's incompetence just then.

"Dinner should be ready in 20! Just need to check on something."

"Okay, sweetheart."

I went to my laptop and went to the writing group's Team page. And speak of the devil...

G. W. sent you a message

I clicked.

Hi, charming Emmy,

I hope you and your hand are well. What makes her free?

What?

I stared at the screen in confusion. Worse still I realized I wasn't sure. Still I decided to take a stab at it. I was so confused in fact that the compliment didn't register until much later.

She's free from the cruel misused power of others, and out on her own there are no expectations. She's bold and strong enough, and knows where she's going.

I sent it, and the little devil on my shoulder whispered. I switched to my private tab and logged in to Fet.

I know. I had always known I was weird and used to hate myself for it, and part of that was - something about my sexuality. No, not really that even. It was an emotional want that I didn't really know what to do with. I wish I could say I was an innocent, but despite being inexperienced and still technically a virgin I wasn't. I had been taken advantage of early on, and while it was online only and at the time I thought I was okay, I wasn't.

I had abandoned Fet, where I had been to learn, and tried nilla. I just was unhappy and lost a friend. Now I had returned.

I avoided the popular pages usually, but I liked to check for blogs now and then. I was scrolling when I froze.

No. Fucking. Way.

I clicked on the profile.

Not only is that bastard on here, he put his damn face! What is he thinking?

And he's a Dom. It all makes horrible horrible sense.

The pot started to boil and I finished up with dinner, still in shock.

What did that damn question mean?