Campus Corner (Open)

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I run down the hall and downstairs and I come back a few moments later with a tiny toiletries kit. I sit back on the bed, close to you, and I pull one of your legs over mine, just so that you can feel close to me. I pull out a small jar of muscle cream, and you can smell that it is scented. "Raise your shirt, baby," I tell you.
 
Still crying, I nod and raise my shirt, exposing my stomach. I curl my leg and put my foot under your knee, craving the contact.
 
I kiss your cheek, and try to rub away your tears with my thumb. "Don't cry, pretty girl." I begin to mix the cream between my hands, and keep talking. "I am going to put this on for you," I say. "It will make you feel better." I smile with sympathy. "And, I have some medicated lotion for your backside," I say. "I want to check you out and make sure you're ok," I tell you, "and I'm going to get you fixed up." I smile at you again. "When I do, I promise you that this will not ever happen to you again. By anyone." I pause and look at you. "But," I say as I gently press some of the cool cream around the edge of the bruise on your side, "I want you to talk. I don't care about what - good or bad, but I want you to talk to me, and I am going to listen while we do this." I kiss your cheek, as this effort to get your mind on to something else gets started. "Now, go," I say, asking you to trust me with my eyes.
 
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I smile weakly, the tears not falling down as fast now. I gasp loudly and wince as the cream touches my side, but it has the effect of taking some of the pain away. "It hurts so much, baby," I whisper, trying to talk. "I'm sorry, this isn't what I wanted to happen. . . I don't want to have the flashback. . ." I squeeze your leg as you continue to gently put the cream on. "It's okay. . . I deserved it. . . I shouldn't have snapped. . . I should've gotten some sleep before I came over. . . I love you Reece. . . . Baby don't feel bad. . . . You just had a bad moment is all. . . . we all have them. . . ." I look at you as I talk, the tears still falling, a small, weak smile on my face. "We can't always be strong, I guess. . . . sometimes. . . . we need to show weakness. . . . "
 
I stop putting on the cream. "Baby, no.......talk about anything else. Not this. This was not your fault. It was never your fault. And you are not going to beat yourself up about this." I grin, making it clear I am not scolding you, but rather gently acknowledging you are hurting and that we are here to fix it, not dwell on it. "I am not mad at you, and if we have to spend the next week here doing this, we will. Now," I say, "tell me about something fun, or nice, or something you love." I smile again, "Other than me, of course." I start to touch your side again, worried that I have injured you if you are in this much pain, "Now. Try again," I say, prepared to listen.
 
I then realize you're trying to get my mind off the pain, and off what happened, and I smile sheepishly as you gently lecture me. "I want a cat," I finally say, wincing as you put the cream on. "I always love cats, we always had one in the house growing up. . . We had two Persians in the house when I was born, Raja and Pouncer. Then on my fourth birthday I got a tabby, Figaro. . . . Had him until I was 15, then he crawled off somewhere and died. . . Then came an all grey cat we called Smokey. . . such a pretty cat. . . .Then we got an all black one we named Hisser. . . always hissing and clawing at us. . . Then for Christmas one year I got four week old kittens, a tabby I named Crystal and a calico named Monet. . . Crystal was a very shy kitten. . . Monet became a fierce hunter. . . . Sort of like Claudia in "Interview with a Vampire". . . Then I got a golden kitty named Sampson. . we got one when Dad was diagnosed, a beautiful all black Persian munchkin. . . she's only about the size of a kitten. . . we named her Cocoa Chanel. . . Daddy's brother got her when he died, since I can't have pets in my apartment. . ."
 
I rub cream on your stomach and hips, your thighs and arms. "Well, what kind of cat would you like to have now?" I ask, still tending to you and encouraging you to talk more.
 
"I'd like another Persian," I say. "Maybe like a munchkin one, they're so adorable. Or maybe a calico. . . I love calicos, they're so pretty. . . Do you know why calicos and tortoiseshells have 3 or more colors and are always female, and the males only have two?" I see you shake your head. "Fur color is related to the X chromosome, and since males only have one, they can only have one or two colors. Females have two, so they can turn on any color their genetics allow. . ."
 
I ease you onto your stomach as I ask you, "Well, tell me what else you might like," I say. I rub cream over your hips and the bruises on your butt. I gently and respectfully ease your perky cheeks apart. I notice you're inflamed, but intact and I reach for the healing lotion, still listening to you as I gently, and very lightly apply it to your little entrance, cooling you and hopefully numbing you just a bit to bring you some relief. Suddenly I gently pat your butt. "Baby?" I say.
 
I had been talking about different cat breeds I would like when you tap my butt. "What is it, baby?" I ask, concerned.
 
"All done," I crawl over you to kiss your cheek and laying on my stomach next to you, both of us facing the window where the storm is getting stronger. "How are you feeling?" I say.
 
"Better," I say with a smile. "Still in a bit of pain, but it's not as bad. And I don't feel like I'm going to fly off into hysterics at any moment. Thank you, baby." I kiss your cheek.
 
I see your real, unforced smile for the first time since last night, and though it is only a small one, it is warm and I'm glad it is coming back. "Lynn, I will never hurt you," I tell you. "And I will forever protect you." I kiss your temple. "I promise you that."
 
"I know, Reece," I tell you, smiling happily. I find one of your hands with mine and squeeze it fiercely. "I know that, baby."
 
I curl up and hold you until you fall into a silent, peaceful sleep. I don't dare move and wake you because I know you haven't had much peace this week. I turn some football on with no sound and lie there with you, committed to being here as long as you need me to be.
 
I wake up a few hours later, thinking my skin is drenched with sweat as I wake up from the old nightmare, which always ended after I blacked out. I shiver against you, not knowing if you're awake or asleep, cold. I find one of your hands wrapped around me and I squeeze it gently but firmly, glad that you're here to protect me. I think about what happened earlier and a single tear escapes from my eyes, this one a mixture of happy and sad.
 
"I guess," I say with a smile. "I had a nightmare, but it's gone now, and you're here, so everything's alright in the world." I squeeze your hand again. The soreness and pain on my body had definitely eased up, but definitely hadn't gone away.
 
"You sure?" I ask, squeezing your hand back. "You need anything? You were sleeping pretty good. Go back to sleep if you need to. I'll stay right here. "
 
"No, don't need anything," I say with a smile. I turn around and wrap my arms and a leg around you and pull you closer to me, still holding one of your hands and squeezing it. "Good night baby, I love you," I say softly, falling back asleep.
 
I fall back asleep as you talk to me and run your fingers through my hair, a smile on my face, feeling truly loved and warm, still squeezing your hand.
 
You sleep through the night and I eventually nod off beside you. The next morning, I open my eyes and you are not there. I look around as I stretch myself awake, wondering where you were.
 
I'm downstairs in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of us, still only wearing that T Shirt I had worn to bed last night.

Breakfast finished, I set everything on a plate- coffee, an omelet with ham and cheese, and an apple I cut into slices- and carry it upstairs to you, smiling that you're awake. "Good morning, baby," I say.
 
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