Watching Rory

Vanilla

My neck is stiff from sleeping on the floor over the past few nights, but a trip to the chiropractor should fix that right up. I would rather sleep on the floor in a locked closet than on a cum stained mattress.

Hopefully, the new bed I ordered will be delivered soon.

Last night I was at my wit's end. I couldn't handle the nausea the bed and its memory caused me, so I removed it from my room. With two rain ponchos, I made a hazmat suit and pushed that stupid fucking thing out to the garage.

I've struggled to live in this house since Eric's abuse, even more after the other night, but I don't want to leave.

My blood, sweat, money, and tears went into purchasing this home.

Why should I move when Eric is the abusive piece of shit?

Jamie, my soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law, has been calling me non-stop since "the incident," as she likes to call it. I love the woman dearly, she's the only mother I've ever known, but Eric is her blood. He will always be her top priority, even when he is dead wrong.

Jamie is trying to convince me to drop the charges against Eric. She says he is an emotional wreck and remorseful for what he did.

I'm an emotional wreck!

It took every nerve in me not to yell back at her or hang up.

Her son is a monster, and nothing will change that.

I will proceed with pressing charges.

If it weren't for books, I'd need to be committed to a mental hospital. Reading is my only way to escape the terror that my life has become.

Anytime I get overwhelmed or am about to pull my hair out, I open my favorite book, and almost instantaneously, my stress washes away.

I need to call my lawyer to see how things are proceeding. She left me a voicemail earlier, but I haven't listened.

I'm procrastinating in life and would prefer to finish reading Sabotage.

The other night I was annotating it, but with someone breaking into my house, I haven't had the chance to pick it back up. I'm not sure where it is.

After quickly perusing my bookshelf, I'm disappointed when I don't find it there.

Think Rory.

When it hits me, I fall to my knees to search underneath my bed frame.

At first, there's no sign of it, but once I crawl to the other side, I spot the red and black cover.

Usually, I lay in bed while I read. This way, when the story gets steamy, I can grab my magic wand from the nightstand drawer.

It's been years since Eric and I were intimate with each other. He was sleeping around on me for a good portion of our marriage, and knowing that meant I wasn't willing to touch him, not even with a ten-foot pole.

It took a long time for me to come to terms with the fact that that part of our relationship was over. But once I did, I became more intimate with myself.

Hence my need for this book.

Except I don't have a bed anymore.

Fuck my life.

I was at a deliciously dirty scene, and I could use the release.

Without thinking too hard, I grab my toy from the drawer and exit my bedroom.

Not sure where to go, I head to the kitchen to make a snack.

Reading at the breakfast buffet has always been serene. There's a beautiful view of our property from that spot, and in the early mornings, the sun's rays shine through the trees.

I place my wand and book beside each other on the island and then make an ice cream sundae topped with caramel sauce.

Opening Sabotage to the marked page, I lean against the counter and dive back into the story.

The hero attempts to persuade the heroine to perform an act beyond what I can envision with my vanilla brain.

Tingles start to form between my legs the more I read, and I think it's time to let my wand join in on the fun, but before I turn it on, I need to know what happens next.

I flip the page and damn near drop the book on the floor when a polaroid of myself looks back at me, and that is not the weirdest part.

The dress I'm wearing in the photo I've only ever worn once, and I can remember that occasion like yesterday.

It was a spring day last year. My anxiety was getting the best of me, and rather than letting it pull me into a dark place, I took one of my favorite paperbacks to the park to relax.

While it was an excellent distraction, every time I'd look up from the page, the hairs on my neck would raise. I suspected someone was watching me, and it's pretty clear they still are.

**************************************************************************************************

Officer Randall Smith left ten minutes ago. After recalling the day in the park, I had a mini panic attack and contacted the police. I gave him the picture, and we went to my garage to see my spoiled sheets and mattress. Officer Smith was one of the responding officers the night of the "incident." He is aware of the guidelines for the order of protection, but there wasn't much for him to do without evidence.

I have accomplished nothing today, but somehow I'm exhausted.

🖤 How would you dispose of the bed if you were in Rory's situation?