In This Place

Love You to the Moon and Back

"I went down into the desert city, yeah, just  tryin' so hard to shed my skin."--Springsteen 

She had drunk too much. No matter where she was in her drinking, Cory had the peculiar ability to be able to stand back from herself and assess just how drunk she was. On a scale from 1-10, she now gauged herself at 7 and a half.

With Switcher, she had hit 12 easily, and that was when she usually got into fights. Someone would look at her wrong (or maybe they didn't. Her drunk assessment didn't extend to her comprehension) or would say something in just the right tone and her mouth, devoid of any restraint, would open and spew some bullshit guaranteed to have her outside taking and throwing punches.

Dinner had been excellent, and Cory had been mindful enough to eat what she thought was enough to counteract all the alcohol, she knew she could reach that 12 point easily, but the damned tequila and ginger ale had been so good. They had flowed over her tongue and down her throat with horrifying ease.

She had managed to hold what she thought was meaningful and interesting conversation throughout dinner and had been relieved to notice Kris had laughed a few times and readily replied to her questions about school, violin playing and other mundane events.

At one point though she had ordered a drink and asked Leo if the bartender could simply wave the can of ginger ale over the tequila, it would be more than enough, thank you very much. Kris had giggled, she was a little drunk too, but she wasn't laughing now as they made their way down the hallway towards their room.

You didn't have to do all of this. I know you're sorry for what happened.

Was she though? Was she really? 

When she thought about what she'd done, only a quick thought before her mind quickly skated off the visual, she believed she'd never done or experienced anything so disgusting. Shameful.

Are you sure about that? Just Cory?

Tequila was a strong liquor but a truthful one. And maybe that was where part of her sense of shame emanated from, because if she dug down deep enough, she had to admit she'd liked what she had done. While she was doing it.

That sense of power

Movement and power so smooth it had been easy for her to become lost in the thunder she'd created.

Power

And that was it in a nutshell. She was addicted to power and if she'd ever lain on a headshrinker's couch, they probably would have told her what she already knew. All her life power had been taken from her.

She'd never wanted to share her daddy's bed. But that choice had been taken from her. And she'd never wanted her daddy to handle snakes but again...not her choice. And 'Chelle. 'Chelle whom she'd loved with all the fierceness contained in her little kid heart. 'Chelle, who had given her love and, more importantly, given her hope. But 'Chelle had...gone away. And it sure hadn't been Cory's choice or 'Chelle's for that matter.

And while all of this had been going on, a streak of cruelty had been growing, nurtured and held like a mother holds a newborn. And BDSM satisfied that cruelty. Which was probably a good thing, otherwise she'd be in prison for murder, she had no doubt about that. Real prison this time. Not kiddie prison.