Campus Corner (Open)

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"Can you guys leave us alone?" I ask, and the others go outside. I grab your hand. "Talk to me baby," I say. "Tell me. I'm here."
 
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I'm whimpering now, trying to fight off the flashback, but failing and I squeeze your hand. "Pain. . . so much pain. . . Liquor. . . Beer. . . He's yelling at me, calling me a slutty cunt. . . a good for nothing whore. . . on the ground. . . so much blood. . . he's kicking me. . . I'm calling for help. . . Mercy. . . Don't do this. . . . Telling me to shut my mouth. . . . then black. . . it's all black. . . ." I give another soft whimper.
 
I wrap you in my arms, "Baby, no," is all I say. "No....no." I rock you gently, rock you slowly. "He won't hurt you baby girl."
 
I nod and hold onto you, crying softly, feeling safe and warm and comforted, the rocking soothing me as much as your words and touch. Soon, I'm asleep again, in your arms.
 
I sit watch over you until dark. Impressively, Riley returns and sits with me. For the first time we really talk about things since you came into my life.

"I have no reason to hate her, you know," she tells me. "I hate you," she says, wistfully. "I hate you because I loved you and you didn't love me. And I hate you because of just how you do love her. I see it every day." I just nod. "You're a great guy. I was going to name your son after you. Reece Grier, Jr." She sobs.

"It....was a boy?" I ask.

"I was hoping so," she says. "For that reason." We talk through the night and somewhere in the darkness come to an understanding. The doctor comes in at some point and tells me you are going to need surgery to repair a ligament in your hand. I run my hand through my hair and whisper to you that I am so sorry, as you stay sedated and resting.
 
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I wake up several hours later, and you're still there, stroking my hair. My hand feels heavy, but I don't pay much attention to it. "Hey sexy," I whisper softly with a smile.
 
"Like I got run over by a bus," I admit. "My hand feels heavy. . . and I kind of feel loopy. . . Mmm, good drugs. . . " I'm smiling.
 
"Yeah," I say rubbing your hair. "They've got your hand bandaged up pretty good. They are going to have to operate on it, but they say you'll be good as new," I smile. "No baby making this weekend." I smile again. "Don and Stacie are coming up to wait with me later while you have your operation."
 
My eyes widen, and I give a small whimper of fear. "You can't go back with me?" I ask softly, and I knew it was a dumb question. I've been terrified about going under ever since what happened. "You'll be here when I get back?" I ask.
 
I smile and see the anesthesiologist come in, and he talked to the two of us about the anesthesia used and such. I hold your hand and squeeze it as he inserted it into my IV. "Wait for me," I mumble before going out.
 
A few hours later, I wake up in recovery and see you, Don, and Stacy, and I give a small, sleepy smile. "Hi," I say. "Glad you can join me. . ."
 
"Well, wait until those drugs wear off." I smile and pat your head. "Stacie baked you an apple pie," I tell you.
 
"Honey, you're the best," I say with a smile towards Stacy. She smiled back. "Man, that smells delicious," I add, smelling it. "Cut me a slice?"
 
"Ah, you can't have any," I say, enjoying my own slice. "Doctor's orders while you are on meds." I smile. "But it's very good."
 
I pout and Stacy laughs. "Don't worry, I'll bake another one," she assures me and I giggle. I look up at you. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying my pie," I tease and add a saucy wink, much to Don's and Stacy's amusement.
 
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