Submit to Me

12 - Sloane

I felt relieved when I left Aaron's office after he gave me his phone number and suggested we meet somewhere later—something I wasn't expecting him to do.

Even though I felt relieved, I was nervous.

When he saw it was me who insisted on seeing him, my heart rate picked up, and my stomach twisted and knotted. He looked angry, as if I ruined his day. But, after admitting some things to him, his demeanor toward me softened.

Then, when he returned the embrace after I hugged him without asking if I could, a cuddling hormone took over my body and mind, having me feeling comfort for the first time in years.

It reminded me of the type of hugs he gave me before leaving to go home, where I'd feel happy, relaxed, and content with the world—almost like he had glued me to him, making it so I couldn't leave.

I went straight home, soaked in the tub to help loosen my tense body and nerves until the water got cold, changed into something that didn't make me look like Miss Piggy, then sat on my couch and stared at the window, looking out at the sky, reflecting on old times I had spent with Aaron—the kisses we shared, our heart-to-heart talks, how we studied together, how he helped me change my grades, and the times we spent together alone or with his friend's.

Remembering those times made me smile. But then my kids and husband flashed before my eyes, instantly causing my smile to fade.

I ruined four lives in my life. First, Aaron's. Then, in one day, three people—my husband and two little kids.

Thinking of them had me questioning, once again, why I was the one whose life was spared and not the three innocent ones who did nothing wrong. I was the one who no longer wanted to be a part of this life, not them. My kids still had a life to look forward to, and so did Logan.

Ugly thoughts I hadn't wanted to do to myself in months quickly filled my mind. I left the couch, and when I got to the kitchen and saw my block of knives, I stopped where I was, closed my eyes, and deeply inhaled, telling myself I didn't want to do what my mind was telling me I needed to do—that I had a purpose to be here.

Then, Aaron's handsome face flashed into my memory, saying how he wanted to see me later so we could talk and how his warm, loving, caring arms held me earlier. And it warmed my heart that my weight gain since he last saw me didn't even affect him and how he acted like the same guy I used to know and love.

I told myself, don't do what you have in mind, Sloane. Aaron wants to see you. And he wants to talk to you. So pick a place where you'd like to meet him, and then call and tell him where that place will be.

I don't even know where to go without embarrassing myself or him.

I'm fat.

I'm ugly.

I have the most hideous scars on my face—including some other parts of my body where I used to cut myself.

And I have a fucked up mind that I have these uncontrollable urges to cry no matter where I am or whoever I'm around.

Maybe a park would be best for us to meet and talk?

Aaron told me to call him. But he never told me when he was done with work. So, after retrieving my phone, I sent him a message.

Me: Hey, Aaron. This is Sloane. You never said when to call. So here's my number. Call me when you're free to meet. I was thinking of Lincoln Park. Let me know if that'll work.

Going to Lincoln Park probably isn't the smartest place for us to go, since it's located in one of the wealthiest areas in Chicago. And with my hideous face? Someone would probably escort me out of there because I'd be scaring everyone around us.