Page 45 of Rockland

Tess

His goodbye letter.

His penned-out farewell.

Bidding me adieu.

Ending whatever this magical thing is that has happened between us.

I toss it back in the glove compartment. Slam the door. Fold my arms over the steering wheel. Rest my head on them.

And cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my life.

One week later

All I do is think of him.

I’m functioning. I’m healthy. I don’t drink. I’m even jogging every morning. The runs are getting longer. I’m faster. Channeling all my pent-up frustration into the workout. I go to the office every day. I accept almost all social invitations I’m given.

I talk to people. I laugh politely at their jokes. Answer their questions with vigor. I’m doing great! Thanks for asking.

But inside, I’m empty.

Void of emotion.

I’m just going through the motions. Keeping it together. Because if I were to let myself feel, I’d collapse into myself like a dying star.

To say I miss him would be an understatement.

At night, I lie in bed and remember. Things we did together.

Things he did to me.

Remember how it was when he first arrived. How, at first, I fought him.

His discipline made me furious. His desire to control me set my temper aflame.

All the while my hatred growing.

The sting of his belt bit into my flesh as his chastising words burned into my mind.

Humiliating me.

I was never willing to admit how my body was responding to his harsh correction.

My voice crying, no. My mind crying, yes.

He did things I thought existed only in fantasy.

Owned places within me. Marking them as his. Places no one else had ever touched.

He milked every drop of ecstasy from me. Brought me back to life.

Through the pain, the pleasure he made me feel again.

Healing the wounds within me.

And in his dominance, he made me obey. Over time, drawing from me the gift of my submission.