If I Trust You, Will You Hurt Me Too?

My feelings for you overwhelm me sometimes. I want to be cautious, protect myself. I need to move forward slowly, taking time to get to know the real you. I truly haven’t known you that long, and there’s so much to learn. What are your hopes, your dreams? What are your fears? Who are you, deep down where no one has looked before?

I’ve allowed myself to be swept into a romantic fantasy before, and I almost paid the ultimate price. I was fooled by his charm, mistook his attention for affection. I wanted to believe what he was telling me and so I did, almost without question. I failed to see his true character because the one he portrayed seemed to be all I’d ever wanted.

I can’t risk that again, yet I’m drawn to you. I could talk to you endlessly, swaying on the porch swing, my head on your shoulder. I feel safe with you, not just because you’ve protected me but because you have opened yourself to me, showed me your vulnerable side. You have demonstrated trust in me and I yearn to reciprocate.

I know I should be careful, but my emotions burn with a fervor I can’t seem to control. My desire for you runs through my veins, warming my blood. My longing is genuinely physical, but it goes so far beyond lust. I don’t dare label this; I’m not sure I know the words to describe it even if I dared.

But there is fear behind the passion. True terror courses though me when we talk of the future. After what has happened, how can I trust again? How can I open myself up when by doing so I risk allowing you to hurt me?

Even in this way you are unique. We have talked about this, perhaps too much. You listen to my concerns…no, you hear my concerns. There’s a difference. In the past I haven’t been heard. Others have listened to what I said, then offered platitudes or swept my feelings to the side. You take the time to understand, to ask questions, to discuss solutions without forcing your will on me.

I don’t know how to release my anxiety. I don’t know how long I will need to know you, or how well, before I can turn hope into faith. Because I do feel hope. I feel it blossoming in my chest when we are together.

I don’t know where this will go, what this will be. But I want it, perhaps more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Fervor and is part of something longer I am working on.

Photo by James Garcia on Unsplash

Was This a False Sense of Security?

Stepping outside I hold my cell phone up in the air, as if the extra 18 inches will suddenly allow it to connect. Nothing. The dirt road ends at the cabin, making it more private than the ones further down the hill. Briefly I debate whether to walk. I can’t have lost service far from here, yet driving somehow feels safer, like my Honda Pilot will somehow protect me.

Still cautious but intent on reaching Jeff for help, I lock the deadbolt behind me. I pause at the top of the stairs leading down from the front porch, listening, watching. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I scurry over to my car, using the key fob to unlock the door just before I reach for the handle, then slide into the driver’s seat.

I back into the turn around and point the car down the narrow path, holding the phone with my right hand in front of me so I can see when service is restored. My attention thus occupied I almost fail to see the fallen tree blocking the way as I turn a corner. With a cloud of dust the vehicle comes to rest with a jolt.

What the hell? Now what?

Glancing at the still useless phone I want to scream, or cry. Instead I pound the steering wheel until the pain in my clenched fists replaces the fear in my chest. I can handle this. It’s just a tree. There has to be a way around it.

Leaving the security of the car, I step into sunshine tinged green by the overhanging leaves. The feeling is eerie and I begin to wish I had chosen to flee to somewhere else, realizing with a sense of panic how vulnerable I am. I tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans to free my hands and walk purposefully toward the tree.

Focus. Solve the problem. Save the worry for later and figure out how to get around this.

Calmer, I examine the top of the tree. The highest branches just barely pass the right edge of the road, dangling over a steep slope. I wonder if I could simply drive over it, if the Pilot would be able to crush these smaller, thinner branches. I would have to be careful not to let the passenger side tires get caught in the ditch.

Still considering my options I hear a twig snap somewhere. I freeze, trying to determine where the sound came from. A rustle of leaves sends enough adrenaline through my veins to make me dizzy. The hair on my arms stand at attention, all my senses on high alert.

What are the odds that a tree would happen to fall right here? How likely is it that it would block the entire road? Am I being paranoid, or could this be a nefarious plan to leave me exposed here, alone in the woods, unprotected?

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Nefarious and is part of something longer I am working on.

Join us… New Word of the Day Blog!

A small change to how we will be posting the word of the day. You will still see it on my blog but you can also follow this one directly to participate.

Cyranny's Cove


Hello Lovelies!

Some of you have been participating to our Word of the Day Challenge already… Thank you so much for your support! In an effort to make things simpler for everybody, we have created a common blog to centralize the Word of the Day prompts.

I’ll keep reposting the daily posts in The Cove for the rest of the month, and we invite you to join and follow the new blog if you like the challenge!

New “Word of the Day Challenge” blog

Can’t wait to see you there 🙂

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I Need to Get Help, But Who Will Believe Me?

Pulling myself together I start to formulate a plan. I am safe as long as I don’t leave the cabin, but I can’t stay here forever. I will need food and supplies, if nothing else. What I was able to fit in my backpack won’t last more than a couple days, even if I’m careful. There is Wi-Fi here so I can still work, if I can keep my hands from shaking long enough to log into my laptop. I’ll need money, maybe a lot of it so this will be important.

I write these points down on the pad in front of me, not because I won’t remember, but because I feel somehow calmer by making this list.

I know eventually I need to get help, but who can I trust? Who will believe he isn’t the charmer he appears to be? I tried going to the police, but they won’t do anything. Apparently I can’t even get a restraining order unless he actually hurts me first. By then it may be too late. Not that a restraining order would stand in his way anyway.

My brother-in-law, Jeff, knows some ex-military types, people who know about not just hiding but also fighting, people who are trained in handling difficult situations. Maybe I can ask him to introduce me to someone. Another bullet added to the page.

I keep thinking there has to be something I can do, some way to handle this, but this is so far outside my experience I can’t even begin to imagine how to proceed. Suddenly getting help seems like the next critical step, more important even than getting groceries to hold me over.

I pick up my cell phone, prepared to text Jeff but the battery is dead. Fishing through the front pocket of my bag I find the charging cable and plug it into an outlet over the kitchen counter. Leaning my elbows on the laminate I power up the device and wait as it scrolls through the boot up routine. When I finally get to the home screen I start a text but realize this is going to require a phone call. I had left without talking to anyone, including my sister and her husband. They know nothing about the danger I’m in.

As I click on the phone icon in my contacts next to Jeff’s name, I briefly wonder if they will believe me when I tell them. Holding the phone to my ear I’m surprised I don’t hear it ringing. Looking at the screen I notice there’s no service.

That’s odd. Even in this somewhat remote location I know there are cell towers all over. I had service on the drive up the road that leads to the cabin. Maybe I just need to go back down the hill until I can connect.

It’s not completely illogical this would be the case, yet for some reason my blood runs cold as I head for the door.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Introduce and is part of something longer I am working on.

Bravely Living an Amazing Life!