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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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I don't know about "talented" - it's more like people who got in on Bitcoin back when you didn't need an industrial server farm to mine coin. We were early adopters of the DD, and some of our stories are "revered" for their pioneering nature when, in all reality, we just got into the sandbox sooner. I guarantee if I hadn't written about a Little murdering her Amazon captress, someone else would have eventually. -
CHAPTER 14 Sara twirled the car keys in her hands as she walked out of her apartment building's front door. The day was cold but sunny, driving conditions as good as they could be. An old Toyota borrowed from her parents waited parked by the curb—it hadn't been driven this far in a long time. Sara had only told her mother she "needed the car for a few days." Her mother hadn't asked any more questions—maybe she sensed that Sara wouldn't explain anyway. The trunk opened with a creak, and Sara tossed her large backpack inside. This time her luggage was much lighter than the first time—she had a change of clothes, a couple of energy bars, a phone charger, and a toothbrush. Then there was the sharp knife she had bought from a hardware store the day before. It now rested in her jacket's inner pocket. Sara had felt ridiculous placing the knife in her pocket, but fear ultimately won over shame. She had no idea what awaited her. She had no way to contact Anna or find out what had happened at the farm. Leaving felt agonizing—she might be walking straight into a trap. Still, Sara never even considered turning back. She had to see Anna, even just once. Even if it cost her everything. ****** The journey felt endless, yet also too short. Sara drove for two hours along major highways, stopped at a quiet gas station for coffee, and thought for a moment about turning back. She had put on Anna's shirt—the oversized garment still smelled faintly of her and gave Sara just enough courage to continue on her original plan. At some point the silence became too oppressive, so Sara turned on the radio and tried singing along to pop hits. It worked for a while, but when the familiar gravel roads finally began, Sara had to turn the radio off again. Her pale hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her heart pounding so hard her head throbbed. Sara had once fled from here—and now she was driving back voluntarily. Sara didn't drive the car into the yard; instead, she left it at a small stopping place by the nearest mailboxes. She would walk the rest of the way to the farm. If things escalated, she could run back to the car through the small patch of woods. Liisa and Joppe wouldn't be able to keep up with her, but they might sabotage a car left in the yard. Sara had planned everything carefully—she was determined not to be trapped again. The birds sang timid, warning melodies as Sara crouched low in the cover of the trees, moving away from her parked car. She arrived at the house quietly from the garden side, passed the shed where she had once made love with Anna, and circled behind the apple trees to the front of the house. The yard at Sydänsalo had changed. The grass had grown long, the front yard was covered in dead leaves, and the barn door hung crooked on its hinges. The place looked abandoned—there were no animals to be seen anywhere. The sight distressed Sara, even horrified her. Clearly something major had happened here after she left; she couldn't even imagine Joppe and Liisa letting the yard fall into such disrepair. "It'll only hurt once," Sara whispered to herself, then forced her feet toward the steps. She took two deep breaths and knocked on the door. Sara knocked softly at first, then harder. But no one answered. "Anna?" Sara called out. Her voice echoed across the empty yard. "Anna, are you there?" There was no answer. But Sara didn't give up. She walked around to the other side of the house and climbed up the red fire escape ladder. The house's windows were so high that you couldn't see inside from the ground, but from the ladder she had a good view into the living room. The fire escape creaked under even her light weight; Sara let out a small yelp before she managed to focus her gaze inside. Joppe sat in an armchair, his back to the window. A soccer game played on the small television screen, and newspaper pages were scattered across the floor. In his hand was a large beer can. On impulse, Sara punched the windowpane with her fist. Joppe startled, turned slowly, and stared at her as if she were a ghost. Finally, he struggled to his feet and opened the window. "What the hell are you doing here?" Joppe growled harshly. His voice was hoarse and stained with alcohol. "Let me in," Sara said commandingly. "I need to see Anna." Joppe stared at her for a long time. His eyes were red and tired, somehow resigned. Finally, Joppe nodded, got up from his chair, and shuffled with sheepish steps to open the front door. Inside, it smelled musty—of sweat, mildew, and old liquor. Joppe returned to his armchair and said nothing. He just took another beer can from the table and popped it open with his calloused fingers. "Where's Anna?" Sara asked as clearly as she could. Her voice trembled slightly. Joppe stared at the television and didn't turn his gaze toward Sara. "Everything's over," the man finally said quietly, almost in a whisper. "Everything went to shit after you left." Sara didn't wait any longer—Joppe clearly wasn't capable of speaking coherently in his current state. She began to search the house, staying aware of her surroundings at all times. Her right hand was ready to draw the knife if anyone attacked her. The kitchen was a mess; dirty dishes covered the sink and all the counters. The living room and hallway were full of empty bottles, and the rugs were rumpled or missing entirely. Sara quickly convinced herself that there was no one else downstairs except her and Joppe. She climbed the stairs to the upper floor and stopped when she reached the landing with the three all-too-familiar doors. There were signs of a struggle. A hole in the wall, as if someone had punched it hard. Shards of glass on the floor that no one had bothered to sweep up. Sara's and Anna's rooms were almost untouched, but when she opened the purple door to the nursery, she froze in horror. The room had been destroyed. The sides of the white crib had been twisted off, the mattress torn open, stuffing scattered across the floor. Shelves had been ripped from the walls, and the cute stuffed animals had been torn to pieces. Diapers, pacifiers, and changing supplies lay all over the floor, some intact, some more or less in shreds. There were fingernail scratches on the pink wallpaper; the changing table seemed to be the only thing still intact. Sara suddenly felt nauseous. She backed out of the room and hurried back downstairs. Joppe was still sitting in the same position; the soccer game had switched to the news. "What happened here?" Sara asked, her voice noticeably sharper than before. "Where's Anna? What did Liisa do to her?" Joppe didn't look at her. He took a long swig of his beer and then opened his chapped lips to speak. The words didn't come easily. "It went too far," the man finally muttered, his hand in front of his mouth. "Neither of them is here anymore." Sara clenched her fists; her patience was wearing thin. "Anna. Where is Anna now?" Joppe was silent for a long time again. Then he got up, left his beer on the table, and went to rummage through the top drawer of the wooden TV stand. He pulled out an old-fashioned cell phone, a short stub of a pencil, and a piece of graph paper. He put on his reading glasses and began slowly copying numbers from his phone's small screen onto the yellowed graph paper. The process took a couple of minutes, but finally Joppe was ready and handed the slip of paper to Sara. "Here's her number. Call her only when you get home. And… don't stay here. This place is poison." Sara took the paper. It trembled in her fingers as she checked that the number had the right amount of digits. She looked at Joppe one more time. He looked older than ever, his eyes were clouded, his shoulders slumped. "Thank you," Sara said quietly, her voice warmer than before. Joppe didn't answer. He just turned back toward the television and picked up his half-finished can again. Sara left, closed the door behind her, and walked through the woods back to her car. Sara had decided that she would call immediately from the car, even though the answer frightened her more than anything else. The girl sat still for a long time, hands on the steering wheel, before she dared to dial the number and call Anna. However, the call wouldn’t connect; only a series of harsh beeps came from the other end. Sara’s throat tightened. She tried again right away, but the result was the same. Sara cried for a moment but didn’t let herself break. Finally, she started her car and drove back to Tampere, her spirits low. The journey felt longer than ever, even though Sara mostly drove well above the speed limit. She didn’t take any breaks, didn’t listen to music, or admire the scenery. She just drove. When Sara finally returned home, the evening had already darkened. The girl sat on the sofa, opened an instant messaging app, and typed a short message with her clumsy fingers. ”Hi Anna. This is Sara. Could you call me? I miss you – Sara” Sara stared at the screen for a long time, her heart pounding. She erased the message once but then typed it again. Every sentence looked stupid, but she couldn’t think of anything better. Finally, Sara sent the message while biting her nails and stayed in her small apartment, waiting for a read receipt. There was nothing else she could do. ******* The following days, Sara checked her phone as often as she blinked. Three days had passed since sending the message when Sara did her routine check while frying eggs in her kitchen. The girl flinched when the message status now said “read” instead of “delivered.” Sara called immediately. Her hands were shaking so much that she nearly dropped the phone onto the hot frying pan. The phone rang for so long that Sara was about to hang up. Suddenly, the call connected, and Sara faintly heard a familiar voice in her ear. ”Hello?” The voice was clearly Anna’s, but it sounded somehow distant. The tone was slow, soft, almost sleepy. ”Anna,” Sara sighed with relief. ”Are you okay? Where are you?” The silence stretched uncomfortably long. Occasional traffic noises could be heard in the background. ”I’m… in Tampere,” Anna finally said. The words came slowly, as if each one weighed a ton. ”I came looking for you. But… I didn’t find you. Now I’ve been drifting around a bit.” Sara gripped her phone tighter. Anna’s voice was distorted and monotonous. ”Have you taken something?” Sara asked carefully. ”You sound… distant.” ”Maybe,” Anna replied quietly, almost in a whisper. Sara closed her eyes. Her chest tightened, her breathing became shallow. ”Where are you now?” ”I don’t know… Somewhere near a park. There are benches. Trees. I can wait here.” ”Don’t go anywhere,” Sara said quickly. ”Tell me the nearest place you recognize. I’ll come right away.” Locating Anna wasn’t easy, but finally Sara was convinced that she was now in a secluded playground about two kilometers from Sara’s apartment. Anna described a red climbing frame and an old wooden bench next to it, and Sara was quite sure she recognized the place. ”Don’t go anywhere,” Sara repeated. ”I’m coming now. Keep your phone on.” ”Sara…” Anna’s voice suddenly cracked into fragments. ”I don’t know… if I’m still the same person. Don’t be scared when you see me.” The call ended. Sara turned off the stove and rushed to the hallway to put on her coat and shoes. -
By ValentinesStuff · Posted
The biggest problem I found while making my way through the VA to get a quality product, NorthShore, was that while the various pharmacists, doctors, and nurses knew that what was available was garbage, none knew what else was available. Hopefully with Adam sending out a mass email about how to get NorthShore products, some other Vets and I pushing through the red tape, and more hopefully Senator Duckworth's office doing something the VA will start getting quality products to Vets that need it. Another big problem is that State regulations, probably from the 60s or 70s, require care facilities to change adult diapers every two hours. These rules almost certainly go back to when they were cloth diapers. Some facilities are still using them. While trying to get me a solution the pharmacist ordered me a "snap on cover." It was in reality a very lightweight snap on diaper with a partial waterproof barrier. There were no laundry instructions, so I tracked down the manufacturer to get some. They seemed surprised that I had some as they are an institutional product, not a consumer product. But if elderly care facilities are using these, I can understand the two hour rule. -
I do as well, though it's not a secret from my wife. She knows and is okay if I do it, just not around her. Like she says, "You do you." The thing is, the last time I wore a diaper, it wasn't as thrilling for me as I had thought it would be, even after 2 and a half years of not wearing. got some samples from northshore and, after wetting them, I was like, well that was okay but not a big deal. -
By Cute_Kitten · Posted
I always appreciate a dry, fresh diaper. But there's nothing in the world like waking up to an empty bladder and a big, swollen, warm, squishy diaper. On the weekends and days off there is no hurry to get out of bed. Unless my diaper is messy or saturated to the point it's going to leak. Then I have to get up and change into the first diaper of the day. It never gets old.
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