I can’t stop thinking about Sam kissing me—and not in a good way. I’m furious.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this angryever. Not in my entire life. Not like this.
How dare he? How dare he think he could do that, after everything I’ve said to him? I don’t understand what else I have to say to make him understand—to make him see what is going on!
Maybe I do need to leave. I can’t be here with him if he’s going to act like this. I can’t forgive him so easily this time—if at all. What’s next? What line will be crossed the next time?
I think back on the way I’ve been since being here. Have I done anything to lead him on? Of course not. And I told him outright many times that I don’t want that with him. So what the hell is he doing? What doesn’t he understand?
I grab my phone from the nightstand and open the Solar Surge app, tapping on the message thread with Shadow. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I decide not to talk to him.
No, before I do that, I need to do something else.
Amelia was right.
I need to learn more. Not only about the community, but about myself. Maybe then I can accept it, embrace it, and stop running from it. If I know I’m doing things safely and that there is a whole group of people out there who will accept me, maybe it’ll be easier to move on with my life—on my own.
I browse the internet for different sites and forums. There are a lot of them, but most of them are dating sites, and that’s not what I’m looking for. The one that catches my attention feels more like a community. There are tons of threads giving information and people asking questions who’ve gotten respectful answers. A lot of the posts are public so that anyone can see. However, in order to post or reply, you have to have an account. I like that.
I go through the sign-up process, choosing to check off the kinks that I like when prompted. There aren’t a bunch listed, just the basic stuff, but I do my best to select what interests me. And I’m as honest as I’ve ever been. No hiding.
Once the account is made, I dig through the threads and find all sorts of information. A lot of these posts are people asking questions—like how to get into the lifestyle, how to find a dom, how to open a years-long relationship, if what their partner did is abusive. It’s exactly the sort of space I need.
There is a lot of information on safe practices, and I come across quite a few posts that mention people meeting online sothey can live out fantasies they can’t otherwise do because of jobs or where they live. A good amount of these people state they ended up in a relationship with the person they started this with because they learned they could trust them and be open, which is a staple in a relationship.
That’s… relieving.
But of course, there is nothing on here about someone’s partner murdering an ex who kidnapped you and whether or not you should forgive them or take them back. Too bad. I’d have loved to know someone else who went through the same thing as me so we could swap notes, but obviously I understand this isn’t a normal thing—or something you put on the internet. That part of it all, I’ll have to figure out on my own. Hopefully, it’ll be easier once I get the rest of it managed.
I’d have been better off telling it to Amelia rather than leaving the evidence online. Though this is anonymous to everyone on the site, if someone reported it, the FBI could easily find my information. I won’t screw myself, and as angry as I am with Jaxon, I won’t get him into trouble either.
But I still find myself starting a new thread and telling my story. I share more than I thought I would, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Talking to strangers on the internet has always been easier for me, and the words flow from my fingertips more smoothly than from my mouth.
Paragraph after paragraph, I share everything about Jaxon and I from the very beginning. The only thing I leave out is the murder. I talk about my journal. Us meeting. The way he made me feel. Living my fantasies. Feeling protected and never unsafe—I was respected and cared for.
I leave out the kidnapping part and instead say someone in his family was angry and hurt me, and Jaxon freaked out about it in a way that scared me. I re-read that explanation a few times,changing things to make it feel as severe as murder as I can—which I know isn’t close.
I add the break-up and how he hasn’t texted me, and also question if I should text him first.
By the time I’m finished, it’s the length of a short story.
I glance at my phone, itching to text him, to call him, to talk about this, but I’m angry that he hasn’t reached out to me. He hasn’t told me he missed me or done anything to show me he cares. For some reason, it’s hitting me harder than it ever has before.
Then dread hits my chest like a freight train.
What if something happened to him?
Why hasn’t that thought entered my brain until right this moment? Why haven’t I considered that his mother did something to him?
Oh my god… this whole time I’ve been furious with him over all this, and he could be hurt—or worse, dead.
I snatch my phone up and pull up his contact. My fingers hover over the keyboard to type, but what do I say? I can’t just send ahey, how are you? Are you alive?
That would be crazy.
But how else will I know if he’s okay? Is there another way? I don’t know enough about him to figure that out, and now I don’t know what to do.
I’m sure he’s fine.
