I'm Sorry

I was still groggy when I woke the next morning. I snuggled closer to the man. He held me more securely. I could feel him thinking. He made a sound that sounded like a moan and grunt mixed together, but there was something more to the sound, too. I furrowed my brow.

"Say that again?" I mumbled.

The man made the noise again, but I clearly heard, "Are you feeling better?"

"I am feeling better," I replied.

He shifted then to look at my face. He was puzzled. He sniffed my face, "You can understand me?"

"I can."

"How?"

"Gift," I replied before kissing him.

He kissed me back. Then he licked my face all over with his happiness.

I laughed, which only encouraged him to continue.

He brushed his tongue against mine. I brushed mine against his and moaned. We kissed deeply. He pulled my pants off. I shifted his pants off his waist before he rolled me onto my other side. He spooned with me. He furry prepuce tickling as the small extension of his penis started his penetration. I tipped my head back as his larger penis pressed deep. I twitched when the smaller portion slipped through my cervix.

The man continued to thrust. I cried out with my high. I moaned as the man drew me further into him, into the dog, into the cat. He purred. I petted his arm. He shifted a little. I twitched as his penis started to deflate. I sighed and moaned. The man kissed my neck several times. I smiled. He pulled me closer. My low back tightened, causing some discomfort. The man felt concerned and let go. He sat up as I slid my hand against my low back.

"Did I hurt you?" he whined.

"No, Darling," I replied, rolling over enough to set a hand against his face. "The pain comes from an injury I suffered years ago."

He frowned, not quite believing me, but nodded. "Can I get you anything for it?"

"No. But thank you for asking."

He nodded slightly before letting me draw him close. I planted a kiss on his cheek.

He kissed my cheek in return.

He remained close as I slowly rolled over to push myself up.

The twinge meant it was time for me to do my energy work for myself. Maybe this time I would figure out what stress continued to threaten my ability to walk. Threatened to make my legs stop working if I ignored the twinge. So far, I had been unsuccessful. Even with my godfather's—and other energy practitioners'—help. I shifted my legs over the edge of the bed, sending another twinge through my back. I blew out my breath. That one hurt. Rarely did the twinge hurt. It only hurt if I delayed working on it—which I hadn't.

I pushed myself up so I could get off the bed.

The man stopped me from going any further. His energy was concerned.

I brushed my hand across his cheek. "I'll be fine after I work on my back," I told him.

"Work, how?" he asked, his head tipping to the side, his ears shifting upward slightly.

"Come see."

He helped me stand. He walked with me into my work room. I closed the door most of the way then I shuffled around my table to the shelves that held my formatting books. I pulled out my structure manuals and spread them open on my table. It didn't matter that I had been using these formats for the last nineteen years. They would not stay in my head. I had to thank my godfather, Mentor, for teaching me the formatted energy work. It was the only usable technique I had that allowed me to work on myself. I could not employ my gifts for myself—no matter how much I had tried.

I tongue stacked information and formats for the various parts of my back, hips, and legs. I held support points in between each format just so I could get as many formats unstressed as possible. My legs were shaking now. Unwinding the longer I worked on them. But I knew the shaking was only temporary while my body readjusted; while my body released the stresses I was accessing. I age-regressed. I found more emotions stuffed into the weakness of my spine at five and all the years following that. But what happened at five? Was is something that happened before or after my mother's murder? Why couldn't I remember? Why did my body refuse to let the memory surface?

The man tipped his head to the side while I worked. I could feel his curiosity, but gave it no heed as I continued to work on myself. Continued to ponder what had happened to threaten my ability to walk. I age regressed again to see if anything had changed. No other ages were showing stress. The memory refusing to surface once more. I tied all of the shifts together then closed my formatting books. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. It would be nice to get the memory to surface. To resolve the issue of my legs threatening to give out every few days. I rubbed my eyes and bowed my head.

I felt tired again. I stood. My back, hips, and legs popped as I put my manuals back on the shelf. My body was integrating the work I had done. I shuffled around my table and out of my work room. The man followed me back to the bedroom. He was still curious how the movement of my fingers, tongue, and jaw could make such a difference in my back. But I had a hard enough time explaining it to other people—especially when all I could think about was sleep. I lay in bed once more. Asleep before the man covered me with the blanket.

I know I dreamed. I know I ate. But I couldn't tell if I was actually eating or just dreaming about eating. I stirred and my ears registered a very loud, content, purring. The man circled his hand over my abdomen. My stomach gurgled. It was time to eat again. I stirred more, trying to get my eyes and mind to wake up enough to get up. The man rubbed his nose against my cheek. I smiled. I embraced him. We kissed. He moaned. He felt very happy. We kissed a little more before his concern surfaced a little more. I loosened my hold and fixed my eyes on his mouth.

"I've been asleep for a while, haven't I?" I asked him.

He nodded. "Almost two full days."

I nodded.

He helped me up. He walked with me into the kitchen. We had Almond/Cashew butter and boysenberry jelly sandwiches for dinner. Each bite was delicious and I felt satisfactorily bloated when I was done. I sat at the table content. I took in a deeper breath then crinkled my nose when a less than pleasant smell reached my nose. I turned my head and sniffed again. I stank. I got up then and entered the bathroom for a shower. The man followed to make sure I was still walking okay. To make sure I would keep my balance while stepping in and out of the tub.

I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it. We stepped under the stream together. My pubic bone ached and my energy shifted. I felt a thrice fertilized egg burrow into the lining of my uterus. A feeling most women passed off as a menstrual cramp. An awareness which I knew no normal woman felt. I set a hand over my uterus as the man wrapped his arms around me from behind. He rocked slightly. My Higher Self wrapped my heart with peace as the aching stopped. I was pregnant. At least two weeks pregnant with the implantation of the egg.

How was this possible? Even if I had ovulated the day I brought the man home, it was too soon for the egg to plant itself in my uterine wall. It had only been 72 hours since we had…. The man rested his head against mine and purred. He knew. He'd known before I woke. Was this the reason I slept so much? Was eating so much? Tears filled my eyes. My Higher Self flooded my body with more calm. Enough calm that I started to kneel. The man knelt with me, keeping me supported while joy opened my heart. I was pregnant.

But something about my pregnancy didn't feel right. Something more than the gestational timing in my uterus being wrong. I remained where I knelt for some time trying to wrap my head around this. The man continued to purr while he ran the sudsed up bath scrub over my body. After several long minutes, I blew out my breath. As much as I wanted to understand—to figure this out—I knew I would not find the answers I wanted/needed kneeling in the shower. The man helped me as I carefully got back to my feet to finish cleaning up.

We retired, despite having slept so much already. I had a lot to process. A lot I needed my subconscious mind to sort so my conscious mind could make sense of it. But my dreams were not pleasant. I was trying to run from something—someone—my right hand supporting my very distended belly. I was almost safe when my legs collapsed beneath me. My back tightening more than before and causing me enough pain that I couldn't drag myself to a safer place. It was a struggle to get my next breath in. I started to reach for something to defend myself with when I felt a knife pierce my back—pierce my heart. I woke.

My eyes opened wide and I gasped for air. The man knelt over me. His body rigid in suspended animation. Our eyes had locked. I could not make out their color in the darkness, but something inside me knew they were the same unplaceable color as his ankle length braid. I continued to struggle for breath while my gift kept us immobilized for several moments. Moments that felt like forever while his entire life played out for me.

From his time in the womb until now. But I saw other lives also. Lives that did not belong to the man. Lives that explained the dog and cat energy he carried, and there were a lot of them. It was these lives that wounded his being. Wounded him enough that he had tried to cast the dog and cat energy aside. Wounded him enough that he had distanced himself from humanity as a whole. Wounded him in a way that explained why he had been trying to see the acceptance he felt from me. Accept how fully and unconditionally I had drawn him into my life—into my being. Aijalon's energy shook and a pained expression crossed his face before the events stopped and I could finally break eye contact.

He sat on his legs as I covered my eyes with my hand. I cried. That was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. Had done my best to avoid once I was old enough to realize what my eyes did to others. What my eyes made me see. Aijalon's breath was shallow, but I did not move from where I lay. I did not know if he would accept me touching him after forcing him to see what he had been trying to forget. Trying to suppress because of how traumatic the events were. It hurt my heart to see what others had put him through. What others had done to extinguish the lives now permanently bound to his. The lives that made him feel—and express physically to some degree—like a dog, like a cat.

I was hoping to never have to do that with him. I had been hoping to assist him with the things that troubled him like I did with my other clients. Gradually coaxing the painful memories to the surface instead of ripping them all up at once. But I had taken that away from him. I had taken so many gentle healing options away from him. I needed to be more aware from now on to make sure I did not meet his eyes again. I did not know if I would make him relieve everything a second time. Or pull more subconscious memories to the surface.

I rolled to my side, struggling to set my tears aside. Aijalon still sat in a daze. Overwhelmed by everything I had gleaned in those few moments that felt like forever. His eyes shifted as he tried to process the events I made him see. Process the realization that I had seen the events also. I wiped my nose then slowly got up. I knelt on the chest at the bottom of our bed. Aijalon didn't back away from me. I slowly reached up and very lightly set my hands against the back of his neck and over his forehead. He shuddered.

"I'm sorry, Aijalon," I said quietly.