At the front of the room, a dark haired, dark garbed priest stands at a bare altar. He kneels, the sounds of his joints cracking reaching my ears as I approach. Tommy crosses his arms and bows his head, seemingly oblivious of my presence. I stare at his back, my brow creased as I pull my hood down and tuck my iPod in my pocket. Nudging Tommy gently with my foot, I speak softly, as to not disturb the silence of the church. "All that praying you do...don't think it's making a difference."
Tommy responds with a voice not above a whisper. "Not praying, just talking to myself."
I raise my eyebrow, unseen by him. "Is there actually a difference?"
"Not for me." Tommy states with a sense of finality.
Some of my trepidation escapes me as I reply, staring down at him. "Obviously. What were you praying to yourself about?"
Still on his knees, weight leaning on his forearms across the altar, Tommy merely replies: "Purpose."
"Heh. That." I lower myself to the ground at his level, sitting adjacent to him. "I saw an old friend of ours, Tommy." Anxiety creeps into my voice, as I fail to retain a casual tone.
"You have friends?" His response has little humor, and the words draw a grimace from me.
My mouth opens to reply, but I quickly close it again. I pause, shoulders sagging, ashamed of the hurt that I can't hide from my tone. "...yes." I fight to sound more assertive as I continue. "This...friend. It's weird, because you said that you killed him."
Tommy's body stiffens visibly, and he begins to stand with a shuddering movement of his legs. "A friend of yours that I killed?"
I watch him from my spot on the floor. "Pyotr."
Tommy freezes mid-rise, then laughs loudly from deep within his stomach.
"Oh! You almost had me worried. Of course you've seen Pyotr, Madelyn." He turns to look down at me, adding, "You poor thing."
I don't drop my gaze, despite his condescension. "No. No, Tommy." I try to entice bravery into my own tone. "Something is...no. I think...I think you're confused about a lot of things."
Concern crosses Tommy's face like a wave, beginning at one eye and passing over the rest of his countenance. "It's okay, my dear. It's all alright. I believe you. You're alright." His eyes water lightly in the light of the church.
My reply is automatic, tinged with anger. "Stop it." I climb to my feet, placing my hands in my pockets and shaking my head. "I don't need..." I pause, steeling myself. "I don't need you to believe me."
He reaches his hand out for mine, replying, "What matters, my dear, is that you believe you. That you are willing to believe yourself."
My own hands clench into fists in my pockets. After a moment, I extract my right hand and firmly take Tommy's. "You're insane."
He smiles knowingly and places his other hand over mine. "No, Madelyn. You're worth it."
"Stop," I repeat. "I'm trying to put my life together, and I can't..." I trail off, looking down at my hand between his. "Everything you say to me is a fucking lie, isn't it?"
He seems unconcerned by my accusation, replying, "I would never lie to you, Madelyn." His hazel eyes stare deeply into my green ones, preventing me from looking away.
"You have and you did and you are." I pull my hand back. "I just want to know why."
Tommy's brow furrows and he steps back. "Madelyn, I'm trying to help you. I know it's hard for you to distinguish fact from fiction, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm trying to make it easier. You just need to trust me."
My voice rises, growing manic. "No, you're not! I'm the one trying here, and all you seem to be doing is convincing me that I can't do it. Is that..is that what you need to do to keep your head on straight?"
Tommy is silent for a moment, then his visage turns from a look of concern to that of anger.
"I gave you years from my life to bring you back, Madelyn. I gave you that body and worked endlessly to provide for you. This is what you do? How you repay me?"
My lip lifts in a bitter snarl."Provide...what? You've been telling me I'm dead for over a decade, and and...You don't care about me, I'm just a fucking pawn for you! I'm not. I don't owe you anything."
"You were dead, and now look at you! Traipsing around in your new body, and now you're too grand for Father Maletoni!" He raises his hand and snarls back at me.
My own hands shake as I shout in his face, "I'm not dead!"
"Not anymore you're not you ungrateful little shit!" I don't dodge or move as his hand swings down, striking me against the cheek. I know he can see the fear clear in my eyes as he grips my chin, pulling my attention to him. "I didn't want to have to do this Madelyn, but you're losing control. How is this body I gave you going to work if you disobey me?"
"Disobey you? You're not.." I clench my jaw, pulling my face from his grasp. "You don't control me."
"I don't control you, I'm just protecting you. You need to understand that I might not be able to bring you back again." His concern once again changes to avarice and disgust. "Your inability to see that far repulses me, Madelyn."
"Your denial of your own fucking insanity makes me..." I rub at my bruised cheek with a shaking hand. "I'm putting my life together, and none of it is thanks to you. None of it! Tybalt says.." I trail off, covering my face with my palms.
I feel the impact of his fist against my hands, dropping them to my side as I flinch. All facade of courage falls from my expression as he strikes me again. "Don't tell me what Tybalt said." Another strike. "Where was he when you were wandering around in Hell?" Another strike. "Where the hell was he? Fucking some dumb whore!"
I cower from his onslaught, backing up until I hit the altar. "He didn't..." I curl into myself, whimpering. "...please, Tommy."
"No, this is what you need. This is what you understand when you get like this, isn't it?" He kicks me, then snarls at the scuff on his shoe created by the act. "Look at me."
I comply, my eyes darting back and forth frenetically. "N..no." I wrap my arms around myself. "I need to go. This isn't...I can't."
He reaches down, grabbing a fistful of my hair. "You will listen."
I gasp, reaching up to grab his hand. "I can't, please. Please."
"I suppose this is my fault. I knew you weren't ready, weren't strong enough. I put you in that body before you were ready to transition. I can correct this, though. I will teach you control." He attempts to pull me up with a strength obviously supernal in nature.
I stiffen in his grasp. "I am strong." My eyes drop to Tommy's feet. "I'm not gonna let you treat me like this." I know the tremble in my stance and voice belies a different truth.
He holds my hair, smacking my face again with the back of his other hand. "You made me do this. No complaining about it, now. Take it and be better for it." He succeeds in pulling me to my feet.
My hands drop back down to my sides, and I reply in barely a whisper. "...yes, sir." I stare at my feet, standing before him like a wounded animal.
He snarls through his nose again, then states, "Dogs aren't permitted to be about with the door open. Go close it." He turns and opens the drawer in the altar.
I stare at him, as if trying to muster some sort of defiance. Dropping my eyes once more, I turn to do as he orders. There's a cracking sound a few inches behind my head, and I freeze in place, only daring to look over my shoulder. "Dogs aren't permitted to don clothing. Fix that, first." There's another snap as Tommy exercises his arm with a four-headed whip. Sickly jagged hooks dot the tips and the length of each head. "You are going to learn, Madelyn. I will show you how I learned to forgo the blood. You will learn to see clearly."
My stance chances, as I fight the urge to flee. "No," I repeat, unconvincingly.
"Learn!" He swipes the whip across my chest. The thick fabric of my hoodie takes some of the blow, but I yelp in pain, nevertheless. My feet move of their own accord, drawing me near the door with less speed than I'm capable. I stop at the open doorway, back turned to Tommy. With just a moments hesitation, I close the doors, cowering against them, refusing to look at the priest. The whip lashes at the air again. "I told you to do something. Comply or be educated." I shake my head back and forth, holding my hands to my injured chest. I hear him raise the whip, as he brings it down with all of his strength. It strikes the already scarred flesh of my back, and even the fabric of my sweatshirt can't cushion the blow. My trembling legs fail me, as I fall to my knees. His voice is deafening as he commands me. "I will lay your skin to tatters and flay you if it is necessary. I will wear your fucking face after I rip it off your skull. Comply!"
Bowing so that my hair obscures my face, my hands rise to pull the zipper of my hoodie down. My voice is quiet, frightened and childlike. "This isn't real."
Tommy approaches me, eyes bearing down and whip in hand. He grasps my hair again with his left hand and holds me still. "This is your life and you're living it, here, with me. I will make you better."
On my knees, compliant at his feet, I roll my eyes upwards to his face. I know my expression shows terror, familiarity, and acceptance, in turn. Sweatshirt unzipped, I let the fabric slide off my shoulders, exposing pale, scarred flesh. "Yes, Tommy."
Tommy palms one of the hooks from the whip and lays it upon my left shoulder. "The rest of it, now."
Still keeping my eyes on his face, I reach around to unzip the back of my skirt. "I have to..." I swallow, needlessly. "May I stand?"
He digs the hook into my shoulder, attaching it like a marionette string. "Yes, good girl." I whimper, rising from my kneel. I clench the fabric of my skirt to my waist, before letting it fall around my feet, gracelessly. Tommy tugs on the whip lightly to lead me along. "Do I need to place another hook in you, or will you come when I pull your leash?"
"I'll follow." I whisper. I move with him, glancing down at myself shamefully. My stance and posture are child-like, a stark difference to Tommy's. His shoulders are high and squared as he walks me back up to the empty altar.
He points to the barren altar that matches me in my bareness and commands, "Over."
I pull back a fraction, expression contorting with my fear. My words come out as a mewling beg. "Don't make me. Please."
Tommy takes me by the back of the head and forces me over the altar, pulling the whip enough to rip the hook from it's tether. I yelp in pain, but don't struggle against him. Bent over the altar, blood trickling down my shoulder, I sputter out an apology. "Louder, Madelyn." From behind me I can hear him suckling the meat and blood from the small hook. His hand no longer holds my head, but I feel the heat from his presence behind me.
I raise my head slightly, palms flat on the wood. "I'm sorry Tom.." My voice catches, "..sir."
His hand lightly places itself down on the skin between my anus and womanhood. "I never wanted to do this, but you rebel against me at every turn. Take a deep breath, Madelyn."
My body goes rigid as I feel his hand between my legs.
"No.." My voice is panicked. "No!" I pull my body from the altar, pushing back against Tommy.
He responds with a hard strike against the right side of her buttocks. "Don't make this worse, Madelyn. Don't make me make this worse."
I remain upright, tense, but not struggling. "Please don't. Don't do this." I whisper.
"This is for you, Madelyn. If I don't place these nice hooks through the lips of your cunt, how are you going to learn?" He places a light kiss in between my legs, his nose brushing against me.
I grimace, losing the fight with own terror as my eyes well with red. Crossing my arms over my chest, my legs tremble as I fight down nausea."...don't hurt me."
"I have to help you, Madelyn. I suppose that I could find another way, but those might be even harder for you. Do you want me to try something else, Madelyn?" He stands, whip in hand, behind me. "I worry that you're only going to make this worse for yourself."
My tone is pleading. "I want you...I want you to stop." I turn slightly to face him, backing away as much as I can. "Please, Tommy? I don't deserve this."
"You're worth it, Madelyn. I'm sorry that it hurts, but you do deserve it. Every effort is worth it for you. I'm willing to make that sacrifice, because you are worth it."
When I back up, he snaps the whips many heads against my bare stomach. My hand darts out of it's own accord, as I attempt to catch the whip and wrest it from his grasp.Tommy loses his grip of the whip when I catch it. "Madelyn, stop before I have to hurt you."
I clench the whip in my first, panting slightly despite my lack of breath. I step further back from Tommy, brandishing the weapon with unconvincing threat. He makes a small seemingly ritualistic gesture with his hands, stepping within an inch of me with semi-supernal speed. "Madelyn, you will stop. Madelyn, you will give me back the whip."
My name on his lips does nothing to calm my terror. I draw the whip close to my body, my eyes wide. "I don't.." My body shudders, as I drop her gaze from Tommy. "I want to."
He places a hand under my breast, softly rubbing the skin with the space between his fingers.
"Madelyn. There is freedom in submission. When this is over, you'll thank me, and you'll be free to go out into the world and live a better life. Give me the God damned whip."
His touch is gentle, but I grimace in pain. I hold the whip towards him, my fingers still clenched tightly.
He places the hand not on my breast around the whips exposed leather. He tugs at it. "You will do this." Still avoiding his eyes, I loosen my grip, one finger at a time.
Tommy takes the whip, then points back to the altar. "You will go back to the altar, or I will visit upon you a lesson that will leave you begging me for a return to death. Defy me again, or place yourself over the altar so that I can begin helping you." There's a flash of defiance in my expression, stunting what would be immediate movement. Just as quickly, it's gone, as I once more drops my eyes and move in the direction Tommy points. He follows me closely, examining my flesh from behind. He peers at my scars, and tongues the open corners of his lips. "Return to your position over the altar. Spread yourself widely. I will not abide the fat of your buttocks interrupting the lesson." I do as he orders, squeezing my eyes shut as I place my palms and elbows on the wood, once more bending over. I spread my legs slightly, my knees shaking. "To think that we could have been done by now if not for your disobedience truly hurts me, Madelyn. Be still and spread yourself farther." He squats behind me and begins loudly licking the hooks at the end of the whip. I can feel the heat from his mouth close behind me, and the light misting of saliva specking off of the metal onto my back-side. My only response is a whimpering pant as I slide my booted feet further apart. Tommy is lax in the beginning of his work. He suckles loudly on the first hook, then places his left index finger under my groin. He is gentle, parting my lips and taking one between two fingers. I dig my nails into the wood as he places the point of the hook against my flesh. "Breathe deeply.", he states. I ignore his words, my needless breath whistling rapidly through my lungs. The barb penetrates my skin, and I jerk slightly, biting back my howl of pain. I press my forehead against the altar, hard, as I squeeze my eyes shut. Tommy, smiling, kisses my backside as he prepares the second hook. "Good girl." I don't reply, managing to keep my body still in preparation for his next move. He makes a large licking sound as he places one hand on my butt cheek, spreading it away from the center. "This is becoming troublesome, you should know. Quite an irritation." He places a saliva covered finger from his left hand quickly into my anus after releasing the cheek with the right. Then, nearly a second after pressing the finger up to his knuckle, he applies the second hook into my skin, parallel to the first. A small, frightened sound escapes my lips as my back arches slightly. The red tinged tears that have only threatened to fall from my eyes before now leave tiny dark stains on the altar. "Yes, that's Tommy's good girl."
He begins a rhythm of pumping with two fingers inside of me. The other hand picks up another hook and places it in his mouth. "We're almost done with this part, now. Almost done."
"P...please." My voice is timid and weak. I still hold my position, save for my hands that curl into claws by the sides of my head.
After a moment, he places a hook through the skin adjacent to the first. "Yes, daddy's good little girl. She's almost done with her lesson."
As the words are spoken from Tommy's lips, it incites rage instead of fear. My submissive, accepting posture stiffens. My clawed hands clench into fists and my right foot pulls back to kick out at the priest. While being kicked back, he pulls the whip back with him, ripping out the hooks. Tommy screams in a rage, throwing his weight behind another crack of the whip at my back. "I can't believe this, you little shit. You need this!"
I let out my own scream as the whip hits my already abused flesh. I feel my own blood pouring from the wounds between my legs. My eyes wide and red rimmed, I turn, expecting the steel gray eyes of my Sire. "You bastard, you can't do this to me again!"
"I know I can't! There was a plan, Madelyn, there was a method! You've ruined it! I don't know if I'll be able to complete the lesson. You might not ever be better if I don't do this for you!" Tommy snaps the whip to the side. "You will return to the position and I will find a new way to help you. I won't give up on you."
"No." I reply plainly, no hint of pleading in my voice as I stand before him, naked, bloodied and bruised.
"You're better than this, Madelyn. You deserve to be better. Let me help you. Let me heal you." Tommy approaches me and places the whip on the ground. His eyes look over my wounds with interest. I flinch away as he approaches, covering my chest with crossed arms. He raises a hand, not to hit but, to wipe some of the blood from my shoulder. "Madelyn."
I part my lips to respond, pause, and then speaks. "Tommy." My head lowers, as tears trail matching red lines down my cheeks. As I turn my gaze to the floor, he strikes me with the back of his hand. I cry out, holding my palm against my aching cheek.
"Madelyn. Back over the altar. Face up, this time."
I wipe at my face, staring at Tommy as if I can't comprehend his words. "Face up. Madelyn, I will not repeat myself a third time."
I take a few steps back, before falling to my knees at his feet. "Please," I beg. "Please don't do this anymore. Don't hurt me anymore."
He places his foot against my chest, pushing me onto my back. I fall, kicking my feet under me as I try to crawl away from him. He bends, taking one of my legs under each of arms. "Madelyn," he states without emotion.
I struggle against him, shouting, "No!"
He retains his hold, his arms tightening as he repeats me name. I continue my struggling, meeting his eyes with little hesitation until he drapes himself over me. "Stay still." His fangs graze against my side, next to my left breast, and I freeze when he bites down. His tongue darts over the wound while he lightly sucks blood from me. His hands, not as tightly gripping, grasp at my waist. I feel no pleasure, simply repulsion as I turn my head away from him and towards the church doors. He drinks for a moment, before raising his head with a sound of disgust. "You taste like absolute refuse. No, I'll have to do this a more traditional way. Get up on the altar."
"Yes, Tommy." I press my lips together, attempting to extract myself out from under him.
He stands and retrieves the whip. "Now." I glance at the door one more time, before walking back over to the altar, climbing onto the wood and leaning back. I shut my eyes, my lips moving without making a sound. Tommy walks to the edge of the altar and spreads my legs wide. He examines the ruined flesh between my legs. "Heal yourself. I won't be touching a cunt that's so used up and worthless." Not opening my eyes, I expend enough blood to heal my extensive wounds. My thighs tense up, and I can't help but draw my legs closer together. Tommy unbuckles his belt, then unzips the front of his slacks. With his hands, he begins testing the flesh between my legs. He examines me like a doctor, like a scientist, or like a voyeur. My lips stop moving, and I quiver at the sound of his zipper. I shrink away from his touch, as much as the table's surface will allow. "No," he states. He sticks his fingers in me, filling both my orifices and stilling my movement as he grinds his thumb into my anus. "Find yourself a place of comfort, Madelyn, because I have no intention of stopping before you are well." My expression becomes sickened, my face contorting with how tightly I close my eyes. Tommy, dutifully, removes his fingers from me and replaces his thumb with his cock. He pulses slowly, picking up the bottle of sacramental wine with the hand that doesn't hold up my leg. "You're doing well, Madelyn. Very well. Almost done." I cry out at the violation of my body, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. Despite my closed eyelids, a tear still leaks from the corner of one eye. My other hand lays dormant, balled into a fist by my side. I hear a scraping sound as Tommy peels the paper label from the wine bottle with his nails, continuing to pump into me. I struggle to keep my body stiff and unresponsive during the assault. I hear the gurgle as he drinks from the bottle, twitching as he pours some of it over my crotch, working it into my flesh with his knuckles as he forces himself inside of me over and over. A pained moan comes, muffled, from under my hand as I flinch from the feel of his body on mine. He places the mouth of the bottle against my womanhood, slowing his thrusting. "Breathe for me, Madelyn. It's almost done." I force my eyes open, turning my head towards him with a herculean effort. Still covering my mouth, I meet his eyes and accede with his request, pulling air deep into my lungs. Tommy presses the bottle's neck far into me as he pulls himself out of my anus. "You're doing well, Madelyn. Almost done." My stomach contracts with the forced breath that hitches in my chest. I fight down nausea and clench my hand tighter against my mouth, still holding his gaze. He looks down to me, his eyes filled with sympathy and compassion, even as he presses the neck of the bottle in and out of me. "You are brave for not leaving, Madelyn. You are strong for enduring. There is freedom here."
Despite my fear and disgust, I can't help but feel mollified. I remove my hand from my mouth, holding it to my chest, lips quivering slightly. He removes the bottle from inside of me and stares deeply into my eyes. "Speak."
"Thank you, Tommy."
"I do this all in remembrance of you." He leans down to kiss me, and I accept, managing to scrape up a modicum of passion. His expression is alight with good intention, and he pulls away from me after placing a soft kiss between my legs. "I have a shower you may use before you go, if you wish. I have also clothes for you if you wish to have them. Next time that you come, we may have to disrobe you far before we begin our work."
I sit up, my shoulders curled inward, my head bowed. "I...may I have the clothes?"
"You may." Tommy leaves to the side room, and I remain on the altar, pulling my knees to my chest. He returns with a plastic pail of water, a sponge, and a shopping bag. A towel hangs over his shoulder. Looking at me, he places the items on the floor, filling the sponge with water from the pail. "Lay back, Madelyn." I reluctantly release my hold on my legs, leaning back tentatively. He pulls my boots off, sponging my feet with the warm water. He moves up my to my calves, cleaning off all traces of blood and wine. The front of his trousers are still tented with his erection, and I look away, embarrassed as he adjusts himself.
I speak quietly as he cleans me. "I'm...I'm sorry. You don't have to do that."
"I do. You've been through an ordeal, and I'm happy to help." He moves up my legs, cleaning my skin and kissing it in a paternal manner. "Next time, I'll prepare a large bath for you with hot water. This experience, while horrid, does not have to be without pleasant reprieve."
"Thank you." I reply, softly.
Tommy continues, washing between my legs. He adjusts me slightly, cleaning under my thighs. I turn my head away for this act, a small crease forming between my brows as he cleans deeply to remove all wine residue. Pleased with his work, he moves up to my stomach. "You're a good girl, Madelyn. We're going to make you well again. I swear that to you." He washes my stomach, then my breasts, taking care to constantly wash the sponge out so as to clean me thoroughly. There's something behind his eyes when he states, "I'm so proud of you."
My eyes tick back and forth, studying his face. With effort, I turn up the corners of mouth slightly, "Thank you."
Tommy moves to my shoulders, pulling me up to a sitting position. He washes my back with the warm water. "I bought the clothes for you about a year ago. I'm glad to have had the chance to give them to you, now."
I hold my hands in my lap as he cleans, my voice a trifle more steady as I speak. "I'm glad that I'm here to receive them."
Tommy completes the task of cleaning, then places the towel against me, draping it over my chest to guard my modesty. "I will leave you to change alone, if you'd like. If you prefer, I can dress you. I know you may be exhausted."
My hands raise, still shaking, to touch the towel's softness. "Could you dress me? Please?"
"Yes, Madelyn. I would be glad to."
He places his hand before me, and I take it, accepting his assistance. He gently pulls me off the altar, taking the towel from my chest and drying me gently. Retrieving the clothing from the shopping bag, and asks me to raise my arms. I comply, standing nude before him with my hands skyward. He pulls a thin black t-shirt down my arms and over my head, straightening it out over my breasts. He retrieves a pair of modest white undergarments, instructing me to raise each leg in turn as he pulls the fabric up my thighs and onto my hips. I keep my gaze ahead, toying with the bottom of the shirt as he holds a plaid skirt against my waist, zipping it and momentarily struggling with the buttons and clasps. when complete, he asks, softly in my ear, "Are these to your liking?"
My head cocks to the side when his lips are at my ear. I turn my attention to the clothing, and then to Tommy. "Yes, they're perfect." I hate the sickening adoration in my tone as I continue, "Thank you, Tommy."
"You are welcome Madelyn," he states with a sense of tired finality. "I would have procured a brazier, but I was not aware of your size. Next time, we'll have to ensure that your clothes aren't torn by the lessons."
I nod, staring up at him. My posture is still subservient, as I gently chew on the inside of my bottom lip. Tommy walks around me, then places a hand to my chin. "Return to me when you feel confused again. If the world begins to terrify and afflict you, know that I will be here. You have a place in my home, and I will always be willing to teach you. I love you, Madelyn, and will not let you be left out alone."
A small, pleased, shameful whimper escapes me as he speaks his piece. I step closer to him, placing my palms and head on his chest. He places his arms around me, hands on my waist. He's silent, nose buried in my hair. I wilt in his embrace, my unbridled tears soaking the front of his suit coat. He supports me, lifting me in his arms and carrying me to a pew. He settles onto the cushioned wood with me in his lap, cooing to me like I'm a child. "You're alright, Madelyn. Everything is okay."
"I know," I respond automatically. "I'm sorry I...bled on you."
"It is of no concern." He preens my hair, breathing in my scent.
In a small, quiet tone, I inquire, "Do you really love me?" Before he can answer, I speak again. "I'd like to stay here with you. For the day."
Tommy responds equally quietly, as if careful not to disturb the atmosphere of the chapel. "I do, and I'm happy that you wish to do so."
I nod, my head still in his lap, my expression relatively relaxed. He grasps onto me, standing. Moving slowly, not to disturb me, he carries me to a bedroom hidden within the chaotic architecture of the chapel. Pulling the sheets aside, he places me into his bed, humming a hymn as he does so. "Stay as long as you like, Madelyn. You and I, Madelyn. No two are as one in desire and intention as we both to each other." He stares at my prone form, appearing to drink in my countenance.
My forehead remains creased with tension, as I ask, "Will you.." I hesitate. "Will you hold me?"
"Yes, my little monster. I will lay with you until the sun swallows us whole." His words make me flinch, my body stiffening. He discards his filthy, blood stained attire, climbing behind me in his briefs. His hand rests on my hip, and I place my own over it, forcing myself to relax into his embrace.
Before I drift off to sleep, I roll over to face him, my cheek pressing against his chest. He kisses my forehead and places a hand behind my head. The comfort and security of his presence serve to lull me to sleep, and the last words I hear from him are, "You'll never be left out alone, Madelyn. I love you."
Before I drift off to sleep, I roll over to face him, my cheek pressing against his chest. He kisses my forehead and places a hand behind my head. The comfort and security of his presence serve to lull me to sleep, and the last words I hear from him are, "You'll never be left out alone, Madelyn. I love you."
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