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Authors: Kemmie Michaels
Tags: Erotic Romance
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started thinking clearly. She had let herself just soak in everything from his words, but now she was ready to focus.
A few things she knew immediately: he did not work at her office if he had to look at her picture to find out what she looked like, and she wanted to meet him in person at some point. She was no where near ready to meet him, but down the road she would have to.
After reading his heartbreaking words, her arms almost ached with the need to hug him and care for him tenderly like no one had in at least a decade by her best estimate. She was shocked at her own thoughts…she needed to keep people at arm’s length.
Still, there was an inexplicable desire from deep within her to take care of M. She couldn’t do that on paper, but she would have to try. At this point, there was no other way.
M~
I know you don't want to hear how sorry I am about your childhood. I know you didn't tell me this for sympathy, but I feel it anyway. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that. It is wrong on every level.
But that’s not what I take from your story. I can't even imagine the strength it took to remain with him, and then find a way to not depend on him later, especially after being told for years that you had no worth. God, you are so strong.
I know you weren't looking for compliments, either, but I give them to you nonetheless. You fought and won. You are the champion, and because of that, I know with a little more certainty that I can be that, too. My story is so small compared to yours, and you came out of it. Maybe so can I. You are making a difference for me. A real difference.
~E
p.s. you think I'm beautiful?
Chapter Four
For the next weeks, every day found Erin and Marcus absolutely living for the moments when they could read the next pages of the purple notebook. Erin kept with her "morning meetings" to have time to focus on M's notes and write back. She fell into the habit of working through lunches just so she could have coffee with his notes every morning.
Marcus was getting more confident with what he was writing, so he started taking a break in the middle of his shift so he could write back to her without taking a whole day between notes.
Every day for weeks they conversed back and forth. Some notes were short and sweet, others were long and detailed, depending on whatever needed to be said. There was never any fluff, no big outpourings of emotion. They just shared what they needed and asked what they wanted to know.
E~
Yes, you're beautiful. Without a doubt. And don't you DARE call your trauma small. Anything you go through in life that scares you...that's big. When you feel fear, real fear, it changes you. Doesn't matter the size of the situation. True terror is big every time. You have to be strong to get away from it. And you did, and so did I. Same thing.
And thanks for really getting it, my story and why I told it. I can't believe you understand, but you do. God, you really do. I understand yours, too, you know. But I don't know anymore than what you hinted at. I don't have to know, but I can listen. I actually felt a little better after I told you mine. I show you mine, you show me yours?
~M
M~
Yeah, I felt real terror. It was only for a moment, but it rocked my world. Completely. I grew up very sheltered, with wonderful loving parents. It was a dream childhood. I trusted in people because of it. People were good. Scary things only happened in movies.
Then I was at that party in college, my junior year. We were dancing and having fun, and he was one of those nice, good people — until he wasn't. He pulled me into a bedroom, but when I refused him, he called me a tease and a prude, and then promised he'd cure me of that. I screamed, but no one heard me over the music. He ripped my shirt and kept me from getting away. He kept pushing me down and nothing I could do would stop him. It made him laugh. The harder I fought, the more fun he was having.
A few things she knew immediately: he did not work at her office if he had to look at her picture to find out what she looked like, and she wanted to meet him in person at some point. She was no where near ready to meet him, but down the road she would have to.
After reading his heartbreaking words, her arms almost ached with the need to hug him and care for him tenderly like no one had in at least a decade by her best estimate. She was shocked at her own thoughts…she needed to keep people at arm’s length.
Still, there was an inexplicable desire from deep within her to take care of M. She couldn’t do that on paper, but she would have to try. At this point, there was no other way.
M~
I know you don't want to hear how sorry I am about your childhood. I know you didn't tell me this for sympathy, but I feel it anyway. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that. It is wrong on every level.
But that’s not what I take from your story. I can't even imagine the strength it took to remain with him, and then find a way to not depend on him later, especially after being told for years that you had no worth. God, you are so strong.
I know you weren't looking for compliments, either, but I give them to you nonetheless. You fought and won. You are the champion, and because of that, I know with a little more certainty that I can be that, too. My story is so small compared to yours, and you came out of it. Maybe so can I. You are making a difference for me. A real difference.
~E
p.s. you think I'm beautiful?
Chapter Four
For the next weeks, every day found Erin and Marcus absolutely living for the moments when they could read the next pages of the purple notebook. Erin kept with her "morning meetings" to have time to focus on M's notes and write back. She fell into the habit of working through lunches just so she could have coffee with his notes every morning.
Marcus was getting more confident with what he was writing, so he started taking a break in the middle of his shift so he could write back to her without taking a whole day between notes.
Every day for weeks they conversed back and forth. Some notes were short and sweet, others were long and detailed, depending on whatever needed to be said. There was never any fluff, no big outpourings of emotion. They just shared what they needed and asked what they wanted to know.
E~
Yes, you're beautiful. Without a doubt. And don't you DARE call your trauma small. Anything you go through in life that scares you...that's big. When you feel fear, real fear, it changes you. Doesn't matter the size of the situation. True terror is big every time. You have to be strong to get away from it. And you did, and so did I. Same thing.
And thanks for really getting it, my story and why I told it. I can't believe you understand, but you do. God, you really do. I understand yours, too, you know. But I don't know anymore than what you hinted at. I don't have to know, but I can listen. I actually felt a little better after I told you mine. I show you mine, you show me yours?
~M
M~
Yeah, I felt real terror. It was only for a moment, but it rocked my world. Completely. I grew up very sheltered, with wonderful loving parents. It was a dream childhood. I trusted in people because of it. People were good. Scary things only happened in movies.
Then I was at that party in college, my junior year. We were dancing and having fun, and he was one of those nice, good people — until he wasn't. He pulled me into a bedroom, but when I refused him, he called me a tease and a prude, and then promised he'd cure me of that. I screamed, but no one heard me over the music. He ripped my shirt and kept me from getting away. He kept pushing me down and nothing I could do would stop him. It made him laugh. The harder I fought, the more fun he was having.
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