diaper dimension The Biggest Little - Hiatus

[Guilend]

This is going to be rough for Amy to go through, but I think it being her friend will help though I imagine since it’ll be forced on her it will trigger all of her fears. I can’t wait to see what happens next. 

[kerry]

This latest chapter is completely wonderful. I'm annoyed that I can only "like" it once; it deserves many more than that. I'm glad you were able to make the time to put it together. Great work!

[Moon3ye]

If you take the experiences from other DD stories and look at the behavior of Amazons towards Littles or "immature" persons, then you can only say about this chapter that it is absolutely credible.

I found it brilliant and excitingly written.

I am curious how it will continue

[LittleFenny]

Whoa! Maybe you were a C student in English class but I think this is now on my list of favorite stories here. This is also a decidedly rare perspective for a diaper dimension story. I think there's at most one other I recall seeing that had an Amazon that wanted diapers and I only remember seeing an opening chapter for it. I can't wait for more. It's also giving me the urge to re-open my word processor and either finish revising the additional chapter I've had sitting for Finding New Things or start working on the Halloween story idea I've got.

[Guilend]

I’m curious to see if diapers are sexual for her and how that’s handled if it is. 
I never thought an Amazon would physically assault an Amazon in diapers, but now I’ve read what you said on the subject I can see that happening. 

[Babytom948]

bump

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Probably not till next week.

Sorry. I know I'm terrible at keeping a consistent schedule.

[Jayme]

On 10/25/2021 at 4:46 PM, TestAccountPleaseIgnore said:

Probably not till next week.

Sorry. I know I'm terrible at keeping a consistent schedule.

We understand that a posting schedule can go up in smoke sometimes. I'd rather wait for a better chapter, than read one that was rushed and delays a story further.

[BobbyDrago]

BTW this bump allowed me to check out a chapter that I had missed so thanks! ?

[Guilend]

I’m sad that this seems to have gone dead. 

[Guilend]

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve read this. I’m still holding out hope that it continues one day. 

[something101]

On 12/13/2021 at 9:44 PM, Guilend said:

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve read this. I’m still holding out hope that it continues one day. 

Maybe our missing author got whisked away to another dimension we all know about...

[Orion]

Love this so far. Have to admit its not quite the direction I thought it would go into, but I am still enjoying it and invested in what happens to Amy. 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Chapter 8 (Alex)

 

Driving home I was fully on auto pilot. The rest of the day was spent trying to keep Amy calm. Which ended up being easier than expected. She so desperately wanted everything to be okay that she was willing to believe anything. At least nothing I said was untrue, although the whole truth was omitted.

 

I don’t know why a mental health facility strikes her with that much terror. Sure, it wouldn't be fun by any metric, but watching daytime tv and playing board games with missing pieces for a few days couldn’t be that bad. Yet another question for someone much more qualified than me.

Pulling into my spot I keep going over the day's event in my head. My best friend has proven that she is incapable of looking after herself. Something I was oblivious to until a day ago. Meeting and agreeing with a government agent for something I had no idea existed until lunch. Now I’m meeting with her again to go over paperwork to become my best friend’s parent. Life can move unexpectedly fast.

 

“Come on Alex. You herd cats for a living. One more meeting with someone you get along with is a piece of cake in comparison. Not like anything she can say will make this any weirder. You just have to talk to her, then you can take a shower until the hot water runs out”. At least no one heard me psyching myself up, that’s a hard one to play off.

 

With one last deep breath I got out of the car and made my way up to the apartment. Five minutes to spare. Enough time to freshen up and get my anxiety under control.

 

A knock interrupts my highlighting the packet from earlier. At this point I have the thing memorized, but it doesn’t hurt to look prepared.

 

“Come in”. A level and calm voice hiding my inner turbulence.

 

Agent Black took the seat across from me. Her suit is even more out of place in my beat up apartment than the hospital.

 

“Thanks for fitting this in at the last minute. I’m sure you want nothing more than to relax”. Her voice is the same level headedness as before.

 

“No worries. Besides, it’s better to get this finalized, rather than wait on it”. At least this way I can sleep tonight without fretting.

 

“How’s Amy doing?”. Living in a state of panic and denial.

 

“Good. Once she understood that she wasn’t going to be locked up in some cartoonish mental asylum she calmed down. She even drank half a smoothie for dinner”. Which she only drank because I bribed her with the use of my phone.

 

“That’s great news”. Compared to before, it really is.

 

“I know you’ve read through the packet, so tonight is going to be going over any questions you may have, and confirming that you still want to do this. After I’ll get you started on the next steps and homework. Sounds good?”. If we ignored the subject matter, this sounded like any business agreement.

 

“Yep”. Anything presented reasonably ends up sounding reasonable.

 

“Alright. Any questions about the packet. I know it’s a bit strange, so please don’t worry about asking something stupid or otherwise embarrassing”. Flipping to my bulleted list of topics I take a deep breath.

 

“The individual items make sense, but I’m not quite sure the overall goal is. What should I be trying to accomplish from day to day? Also I didn’t see any milestones or dates for improvements”. Despite some superficial similarities with a regular parent, it’s not like I’m going to be teaching her how to tie her shoes.

 

“At the start the goal should be getting her to follow a routine while keeping her behaviors in check. Once she is at a point where she can do that consistently we can talk about further goals. Even if it’s hard to see progress day to day, keeping the structure in her life going is really the focus and the best way to help her. There are no dates because this is a highly individualized process. Please don’t worry about meeting a deadline”. Routines I can do.

 

“Thanks. For changing, feeding, bathing. I’m not sure how to accomplish them without her cooperation. Even if she is as thin as a rail, she’s still a tad taller than me, and can be furiously stubborn”. Even with cooperation some of those could be a struggle.

 

“A few things. One, the equipment and tools you’ll be getting will make it a lot easier to control her. Two, she is likely to be a lot more cooperative than you would expect. Amy doesn’t strike me as a violent person, and the only one she is a danger to is herself. She might throw a tantrum, but I doubt it will progress any further than that. Three, we have a hotline you can call 24/7, and if really needed you can always contact emergency services”. Even the threat of calling someone would paralyze her. I don’t think we’ll need option three.

 

“Does that answer that?”. This clearly isn’t the first time she has answered that question.

 

“Yes”. I’ll have to look more into the equipment and tools, but overall it makes sense.

 

“That leads me into the next point that many new parents have difficulty with. Discipline. I know she’s your friend, and having to punish her is the last thing you want to do, but it is not only necessary for her growth, but it will help her feel better and relax”. The first part tracks, but how would punishing her help her relax?

 

“How?” My voice comes out an octave higher than intended. Surprise will ruin any composure. 

 

“Amy beats herself up a lot. Physically and emotionally”. And water is wet.

 

“While not the complete picture, many who struggle with shame as well as many types of trauma act similarly. Does she ever make a minor error or mistake and then fixate on it long after it’s relevant?” Only constantly.

 

“Yes”. There are too many examples to pick from. Even if I limit myself to recently.

 

“A therapist will go through this in more detail, but it’s pretty clear Amy struggles with catastrophizing. It’s a cognitive distortion which makes her think the world is going to end for replying late to an email. Punishing her can help her let go of that. By making the consequence grounded and time bound, you are setting healthy limits for her”. This is much more academic than I was expecting.

 

“Can I go easy on her?”. Even if it’s for her benefit, I can’t imagine ever getting used to hurting her, regardless of the reason.

 

“It’s important that any punishment feels proportional to the infraction. I understand wanting to be lenient, but for her to trust you with deciding her penance, it has to have weight behind it. I’ll give you some guidelines later for appropriate punishments”. I can work within guidelines. I just hope they aren’t too extreme.

 

“It’s still hard to wrap my head around”. Just staying calm is taking 50% of my brain power.

 

“There’s another upside to this as well. In addition to helping her with her guilt and worry for things she did wrong, you can show her when a punishment isn’t needed for when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Once she fully trusts you with disciplining her, she will also trust when you decide not to”. Getting her to move past mistakes is a temping upside. I just wish it came at a lower price.

 

“Is there any chance that she is still my friend at the end of this?”. I don’t know if we could stay friends given the reverse. I could be too ashamed to talk to her ever again.

 

“Are you friends with your parents?”. Parent, but the point still stands.

 

“Yes”. At least since I got into college.

 

“Have you always been friends with them?”. See period before college.

 

“No”. We once screamed so loud the neighbors called the cops.

 

“Let me guess, no during your teenage rebellion years, and then slowly growing stronger after”. Right on the money.

 

“We fought about the dumbest things”. Why did I care so much about going to that concert? It wasn’t even a band I liked. Just one that Chelsea thought the drummer was cute.

 

“Well I have some good news for you. It’s highly unlikely that Amy is going to go through the same rebellious phase later on. The beginning is going to be a rough period of adjustment, but after that I think you will find that your relationship changes for the better. It’s going to change, but change is inevitable". Amy never really had her rebellious phase. At the same time I was screaming at my mom for trying to stop me going to a party, Amy was playing cards with her and watching game shows together. I guess she had enough shouting at home.

 

“Thank you”. At least I can cross off my biggest fear. I only just realized how close I came to losing her, I couldn’t deal with that again.

 

“Any more questions about the packet?”. Lots, but none productive.

 

“That pretty much covered it”. Straightening up the papers, I set the pile aside.

 

“Okay. I have another packet for you. This one covers the next steps. You’ll get an email later tonight with a link as well as sign up information for our site. That’s the main hub for resources as well as a copy of everything I’ve given you so far”. Of course they have a website. How do they keep all of this hidden?

 

“Okay”. Glancing through the packet, everything seems orderly. I wonder what it’s like to be the office drone who makes all this.

 

“I already sent a message to the hospital. They are going to hold onto her until you are ready to bring her home. Should be 3 to 4 days”. That was my first question taken care of.

 

“There is a rough timeline for your tasks on the second page. Don’t worry. Nothing you need to handle tonight. Any questions?”. And that was my second.

 

“No. I think I got this. Thanks”. Timelines and tasks are my jam. A bit of normalcy is welcome.

 

“Alright. You have my contact information if you need anything, plus the site has contact numbers and emails once you get logged in”. All that is missing is the exchange of business cards.

 

“Thank you”. Getting up I show her out.

 

“Thanks and have a good night”. Closing the door I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

 

---

 

One hot water heater worth of shower later, I towel off and flip through the new packet.

 

Furniture and supply shopping, building a trusted network, work and other engagements, building a network of professionals, continued and expanded responsibilities.

 

My skimming is interrupted by a text from mom. Pictures from the balloon festival.

 

Grabbing the page on ‘building a trusted network’ I glance back at my phone. Well it might be a bit out of order, but no harm in getting started early. 

 

Dialing, I put the phone to my ear.

 

“Hey mom. How’s the festival?”. I looked forward to it each year growing up.

 

“Beautiful. Every year it’s a unique collage”. It really is. Each hot air balloon is a work of art. Together they form a moving tapestry.

 

“That’s great mom”. Glad to see that she is still enjoying her early retirement.

 

“Everything okay dear? You sound hesitant”. I would say her instincts are sharp, but I’m pretty sure I’m throwing out red flags with every quaver of my voice.

 

“Everything’s under control. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your vacation. I was calling to see if you had some free time to talk after you got back”. Doing this in person is going to be hard enough, It would be impossible over the phone.

 

“Alex. What happened sweetie?”. Steadying my breathing I try to keep a neutral tone.

 

“Amy’s in the hospital. She fainted, but she’s stable, but they are keeping her a few more days to be safe”. I can hear a pause as my mom lets it sink in.

 

“Poor dear. Has she been eating well?”. Did Amy talk about this with my mom before?

 

“No. How did you know?”. How did I not know?

 

“Well when she lived with me I did all the grocery shopping. Hard not to notice when she ate less than a field mouse. I put my foot down right quick, but she always struggled with it”. I’ll need to see if there is anything else mom knows that I was oblivious to.

 

“I never knew. How did I not notice?”. Because I cared more about my career than my friend.

 

“Don’t beat yourself up sweetie. Listen, I’m going to head home tonight. I’ll meet you at the hospital tomorrow morning”. I knew this would happen.

 

“You don’t need to do that. One more day won’t hurt”. Amy is going to beat herself up again if she hears that mom ended her trip early.

 

“Nonsense. She’s part of the family. Besides, I won’t be able to enjoy it here if I’m worried about her”. I wouldn’t either.

 

“Thanks mom”. I knew I could count on her for this part. Now the other part…

 

“No worries dear”. It’s amazing how much basic validation can cut through insecurities.

 

“Umm. Listen. Can you swing by here tomorrow instead of going straight to the hospital? There’s something I need to discuss with you, and I would rather do it in private”. I’ll need to read up on what to do if this goes wrong. 

 

“Sure. I’ll grab some donuts from that shop you like at the bottom of the hill and be at your place at 7:30 tomorrow okay?”. I’ve gotten sick from eating too many of their apple fritters more than once.

 

“Thanks mom. Love you”. There’s a lot of feeling packed into the last two words.

 

“Love you too”. The adrenaline in my systems starts to slowly dissipate. A slight shiver down my spine.

 

Hanging up the phone I gather the papers in front of me and half heartedly flip through.

 

Please let my mom be supportive. I don't know what I’ll do if I have to put a boundary down. I know not everyone in my life is going to be okay with this, but if I can just have one, please let it be her.

 

Grabbing my highlighters I set to work. When paperwork is a welcome distraction, I know things have gotten bad.

 

---

 

I stopped my pacing before I put a hole in the floor. I’ve never met my downstairs neighbors, but I can’t imagine they are all that happy with me.

 

Info packets hidden but in reach. Check

Supporting additional documentation paperclipped to packets. Check.
Index cards with bullet points in my left pocket. Check.

 

There is something to be said about over preparing as a coping strategy. 

 

I’m not a hypochondriac by any means, but for obvious reasons I’ve been reexamining my life for thoughts and practices that I’ve turned a blinded eye to. After getting Amy set up with a therapist, I think it’s time I took care of it for myself.

 

Knock. Right on the dot. Just like mom.

 

“Come in”. The fake confidence of yesterday has given way to the real exhaustion of today.

 

“Hey honey. It’s good to see you”. My mom, a bag of donuts in each hand, arms stretched out for a hug.

 

“Good to see you too mom”. I squeeze her as hard as I can without jeopardizing the donuts.

 

“Here. Let’s eat. Any conversation is easier on a full stomach”. Every major conversation was always over food.

 

“Thanks”. Grabbing the bags I start to set the table.

 

The same folding card table I’ve had ever since moving out. I keep saying I’ll replace it once it breaks, but it never has.

 

“So. How much prep did you do for this?”. Teasing aside, the answer is a lot.

 

“Mom!”. She is twice as bad when I’ve been interviewing. Joking threats of search and rescue operations are a recurring theme. 

 

“Relax dear. I know how you operate. I’m not teasing. Just trying to get a sense for how big this is”. I can’t think of anything bigger.

 

“Big”. Even saying I’m pregnant would look small in comparison.

 

“Sweetie. No matter what I’ll still love you. You know that”. It’s how you could express that love that worries me.

 

“It’s about Amy”. Now or never Alex.

 

“I thought you said she was stable”. My throat feels like it is closing off.

 

“She is. It’s about once she’s released. I’m going to be her guardian. Of a kind”. That sounds bad enough, even with being vague.

 

“I think it’s going to be easier if you just tell me straight”. Okay Alex. Just say it.

 

“I’m going to be her parent”. There. No backing out now.

 

“Her parent?”. This is like my conversation from yesterday, only flipped.

 

“Yes. Her parent. I’ll be taking care of her for the foreseeable future”. How I’ll be taking care of her is the real issue.

 

“I know Amy struggles from time to time, but are you sure that’s needed? Besides what about work and everything else”. All excellent questions I already asked.

 

“Trust me. It’s needed. It was either this or let someone we don’t know take her”. I could never let that happen.

 

“How did she take it?”. Bad. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will be bad.

 

“I haven’t told her. She’s in a delicate state. The thought of going to a mental health facility just about broke her. I’m waiting until she can handle this before telling her.” The heat death of the universe will come sooner than Amy being able to handle this.

 

“Well I’m here to support the both of you”. Showing support despite the obvious confusion. I love you mom.

 

“Thank you”. Taking a break to take a bite, I try to focus on the next step.

 

“So, what does being her parent entail?”. Nothing you are not familiar with, technically.

 

“Before I get to that there’s something else”. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

 

“Take your time dear”. She gently grabs my left hand. The tremors are impossible to hide.

 

“Please. Before I tell you, promise me you won’t hate her. No matter what”. It’s a stupid thing to ask, but I need any reasurance I can get.

 

“I promise. I’m sorry that was ever in question”. I asked a similar question when I came out in high school. Got the same response this time too.

 

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I… I just couldn’t bear the alternative". It hurts too much to even imagine it.

 

“Friday I cleaned Amy’s room. I thought it would be a nice gesture, plus the smell was seeping out. While cleaning I found something. A box buried in the back of her closet. In it were some amazon sized protective underwear and supplies”. I’m glad I found it. Even with everything that has happened.

 

“Amy’s struggling with incontinence?”. If anything, she struggles with the reverse. Her bladder is as shy as she is.

 

“Not exactly, but it’s important. I put the box on her bed and made a note to talk about it later. I figured I would have to schedule a doctor’s appointment or something for her. Well, I put it out of mind, until she got home from work. Then, when she saw it on her bed, she fainted”. Why did I leave it there instead of talking to her first?

 

“Why?”. Here we go.

 

“Because Amy likes to wear diapers. Something she is so ashamed of that she would have rather died than have anyone find out”. Something she put a great deal of thought into.

 

“I’m so sorry. For both of you. Not about the diapers, but how much pain she’s in”. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.

 

“There’s some more info. I have some packets I got from the person who is helping set this up. It’s probably easier if you read through at least the first few pages”. Her having worked as a librarian makes this part easy. We both prefer reading when it comes to important issues.

 

“Thank you. Why don’t you relax in your room while I go through this”. Thanks for reading my mind.

 

I get up from the table and give her a hug before going to my room and collapsing on the bed.

 

It can be hard to think with that heavy of a mix of endorphins pumping through your system. I choose to shut off my brain and just listen to my breathing.

 

I keep listening to breath, feeling the movement of lungs as I wait for her to finish reading. I’m too spent to work up any concerns. Besides, she already knows the hardest part, everything is easy in comparison.

 

“Sweetie. I finished reading if you want to talk”. No judgement or concern. Just an earnest attempt to help.

 

“Thanks. Are there any donuts left?”. I didn’t check before, and my stomach is making itself known.

 

“Plenty. Extra cup of coffee too”. You are a saint.

 

Sitting back down, I fill my plate while trying to get as much caffeine in me as I can. 

 

“So. Any questions?”. I manage to sneak out between sips of coffee.

 

“Nothing that can’t wait until later. I won’t say it’s not weird, but why would I let that stand in the way of her happiness and well being”. My thoughts exactly.

 

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know who I could trust about this. Thank You. Really. Knowing that I have at least one person to count on makes this ten times easier”. I got the one ally I really wanted.

 

“I didn’t think I would be a grandparent at this age, but I’m proud of you”. Wonder if I should get Amy to call her grandma.

 

“Thanks. I didn’t expect it either”. First in my social group to be a parent. I was sure it was going to be Rose.

 

Mom flips through the papers as I finish up breakfast. Life has been moving too fast lately. A routine will do everyone some good.

 

“So. When the agent first approached me about this, she asked if I had anyone in mind who could do it. You were the only name that came to mind”. I don’t know why I ever doubted you.

 

“That’s very kind, but I could never be this kind of parent to Amy”. Did I miss something?

 

“Why not?”. Maybe she just wants to enjoy retired life?

 

“Were you looking for me to take over?”. No. I’m surprised how quickly I’ve become attached to the idea of being her parent.

 

“Not exactly. Just that you have actual experience with being a parent. I just want what’s best for her”. I know she is in her twenties, but I bet some parenting tricks would still work.

 

“It’s pretty clear Amy needs someone she can trust and is comfortable around. She still calls me Mrs Miller face to face. I love her dearly, but she’s never been able to let her guard down around me. Did you know that when she lived with me she used to wait to go to the bathroom until I was awake. She was worried she would wake me up. Took me awhile to piece it together, but she thought if she slightly inconvenienced me, that I would kick her out”. That does sound like Amy.

 

“Tell you what. I’ll babysit whenever you need, and if something happens where you can’t be her parent, I’ll step in”. I’ll have to see when I can get Amy on board with the idea of a babysitter.

 

“Thanks mom”. I’m glad she ended her trip early.

 

“No worries dear. Besides, I think this could be good for you”. Why? She was never the type to hound about grandkids.

 

“Me? I’m doing just fine”. Does she think I need practice or something?

 

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”. What?

 

“You think this is going to be a vacation?”. I’ve listened to her enough to know that parenting is never a vacation.

 

“I was a single mother for almost your entire life. I know being a parent is no vacation. I meant that you promised me after you got the new job that you would start to take more time for yourself. Even if being a parent will make you busy, it helps provide a new perspective. I think you’ll come to appreciate it”. I can’t argue with that. I can already tell it’s working.

 

“College. That was the last time I took real time off”. I got permission to end an internship one week early so I could go on a trip.

 

“My point exactly”. It was always on the horizon, but never materialized.

 

“So, what’s next on your tasks?”. I’m surprised she wants details.

 

“Ordering a crib, along with a bunch of other furniture and supplies. Everything is being paid for, and I have the requirements, along with Amy’s measurements, but I’ve never done shopping like this before”. I’m not even sure what Amy would like. Not like I can ask her.

 

“Care for some help?”. I guess she has done this before. In a way.

 

“Really?”. I’m not going to say no to help. Currently, I’m rather clueless.

 

“Everything may be larger, but I’ve picked out a crib before”. I doubt it had straps though.

 

“Thanks mom”. This might be the strangest thing we’ve done together, but it’s not bad.

Grabbing my laptop and logging into the site, we start browsing together.

 

I really do feel like a new parent getting help from the previous generation.

 

I can’t wait to bring Amy home.

[Guilend]

Yay I love it. While Amy will resist at first I think as long as her new mom is firm with her Amy won’t throw a huge tantrum. Thanks so much for this chapter. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[kerry]

2 hours ago, TestAccountPleaseIgnore said:

Did you know that when she lived with me she used to wait to go to the bathroom until I was awake. She was worried I would wake her up

Don't you mean "she would wake me up"?

2 hours ago, TestAccountPleaseIgnore said:

browning

Browsing

I think I'm a bit surprised that a crib is involved, actually. Amy is clearly not a baby, nor does anyone seem to think she should be treated like one. Shouldn't she just be treated like a child who needs supervision? (Albeit a giant sized one who is still in diapers...)

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Thanks for the feedback as well as help with proof reading.

I find it very hard to catch those types of errors. Normally I read it out-loud a few times, but my brain skips over things like that. If anyone has suggestions on how to better proof read, I'm all ears.

Amy is not a baby, although she clearly likes infantile things.
Buying and being excited about a baby bottle is the prime example that Alex / others would know about.

The goal of this intervention is provide a living situation that is both safe, and let's her confront her internalized shame/guilt. A crib is both practically in terms on keeping her safe when not monitored, and helps her confront her issues.

I hope the balance I'm trying to strike between Amy as an adult, and Amy as a child becomes more clear with more chapters.

Please let me know if anything sticks out as breaking the internal consistency. I really wanted to write a story that feels grounded, despite obvious fictional elements.

[Guilend]

I wasn’t sure where you were headed, however I am excited to see it through. She definitely needs structure and in that she can get the safety she needs. Though right now she’s not going to see it that way. 

[LittleFenny]

I was just thinking to myself, I should go check if there's a new chapter for The Biggest Little, and there is! Yay for supportive parents!

[Guilend]

Just wondering if you’re doing okay 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

I'm okay.

Writing has kind of been on the back burner lately.

I've been trying to spend time with some friends (that I neglected for months), and that has taken up most of my energy.

I would say the next chapter is 50% complete. Don't worry, it's not abandoned. Just slow.

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Feel free to skip if selfharm is not your taste.
I'll post something longer soon(TM).

 

Chapter 9 (Amy) - Sunday Morning

 

When I woke up Alex wasn’t there. She didn’t say she would be this time, but I still felt lonely.

How pathetic am I? Fixating on a few more hours alone. Alex has her own life, and has been more than generous with it.

 

Still, I miss her. Last night sucked. Nothing happened, well nothing new happened. It’s just that being stuck here alone invites far too many thoughts that would be better kept in the dark.

 

Thumbing through the stack of books to my side, I pull one out at random. I know I’m not going to read it, but it gives my hands something to do. Plus I look a little less crazy. Although that’s almost certainly a lost cause. 

 

Alex promised me I wouldn’t be locked up, but I don’t see how that isn’t a white lie. Whatever. False hope is still a type of hope.

 

The anxiety is building up. The pressure in my chest. Strange how something mental manifests as something physical.

 

My skin itches.

 

You know the problem with maladaptive coping skills? They work. For however damaging they may be, they still are coping skills.

 

The IV and finger thing (pulse oximeter. I learned a new word) were removed yesterday, which means I have full range for my hands.

 

Sorry Alex, I just need a little bit.

 

Turning Pokey so she can’t see, I pull my arms under the blanket and grab each forearm with the opposing hand. The relief is instant as my nails sink into my skin. Nothing breaking the skin, but enough to form welts.

 

I already feel better, by any logic I should stop now. Too bad logic and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.

 

Focusing on just my middle fingers, I keep digging in.

 

Back and forth I scratch.

Deeper and deeper.

 

The world keeps shrinking and shrinking until all that is left is the tips of my fingers.

Blood. First the left, and then the right. Slightly pooling around my fingers before dripping down the sides of my arms.

 

I used to be squeamish around blood. Especially my own, and now it’s the only kind I can stand. Funny how time changes.

 

Frequent and positive associations really can make one love just about anything. Race car fans like the smell of gasoline and nitrous, despite everyone else getting a headache from it. Hell, farmers can learn to love the smell of manure, and that is literal shit. Our brains are funny. Prone to finding patterns in chaos and inadvertently training itself without notice.

 

I wish I could see it. Smell it. The slight copper taste in my mouth is purely from memory. I want more.

 

Too bad. The moment I remove my arms or lower the blanket I’m fucked.

 

Bodies heal themselves at a remarkable rate. Platelet cells start the clotting process as soon as the skin is breached. 

 

In most cases that would be a good thing, but when armed with only finger nails it means that I’m in a constant war to keep the trickle going.

 

A few minutes go by as I enjoy the stream of endorphins. They really are an incredible thing. People can lift cars off of loved ones, run into burning buildings to save pets, and shrug out debilitating injuries as if paper cuts (until they can’t), all thanks to endorphins.

 

In this moment I am tranquil. Master of my own universe. Every thought drifts to the back of my head as I float aimlessly in an ocean of serenity.

 

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Endorphins run dry, and the pain and shame return.

 

Taking my hands off my arms, I lay them at my sides. Careful to keep the sheet flat over them.

 

Pain is funny. So many types. So many reactions. Even the people who love pain (such as myself), really only like some of it. I have yet to meet someone who enjoys the dull pain of a stomach ache. I guess the pain is only part of it. The body's response is the rest.

 

I read a book excerpt years ago about a man who was mauled by a lion. He said it was remarkably painless. It is not a mercy of evolution (or the divine as he prescribed), but an improvement to the ruthless killing machines that we pretend we no longer are, making us fight just that bit longer. Yet, it can be used to fit my desire.

 

Maybe if I can trick my body into thinking a stomach ache is a life or death fight with a lion then I would find enjoyment. At least while the endorphins last.
 

I really am an idiot. I know there is no way of hiding this. I knew that before I started, but that fact which meant so little, now means so much.

 

I’m sure Alex is going to give me an earful. I’ll deserve it. I’ll have to apologize. Worse yet, she’ll accept it. 

 

Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts wash over me as my arms begin to itch.

 

I hate myself. I really do.

[Guilend]

Yay a new chapter. 
 

A really good chapter. 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

*Sorry for the delay. I fell into a black hole named Elden Ring*

 

Chapter 10 (Amy) - Sunday

 

Pretending to be asleep is a great defense against conversations you don’t want to have.

I don’t think any of the nurses bought it, but at least they were nice enough to go along with it.

 

It does have one fatal flaw. Footsteps are extremely difficult to discern.

 

A flick to the nose was a strong indicator that someone other than a nurse had entered my room.

 

“Fuck!”. Opening my eyes, I see Alex and Mrs Miller standing over me.

 

“Three out of ten on the execution. Seven out of ten on dedication”. Alex taunts as she takes a seat next to me.

 

“Hello dear. Alex told me what happened. Hopefully you’re feeling better”. Mrs Miller always sounds like a pleasant guest on a kids’ show. I missed her.

 

Wait. Exactly how much did Alex tell her? She isn’t looking at me with utter disdain, so it couldn’t be ‘everything’. I don’t regret telling Alex, but the knowledge that someone else has my secrets chills the bone.

 

“Hello Mrs Miller”. If the dread of hiding under the covers was a sinking feeling before, now I was drowning, holding in my agonizing last breath.

 

“It’s Carol dear. How are you feeling?”. When did asking how someone ‘is’ become small talk? How am I supposed to answer other than a polite lie?

 

“Sorry. Carol. I’m fine. Really, it was nothing. They just wanted to be safe”. I don’t think this can count as a lie, given that I know she already knows the truth.

 

“It was not nothing, and you don’t need to pretend that it was”. Thanks Alex. Yes, the elephant is still in the room, but it is generally advisable to not make eye contact.

 

Without a rebuttal, I’m forced to sit in silence. 

 

Agonizing silence. 

 

The kind of silence where seconds feel like hours.

 

However long silence needs to last to become awkward happened an eternity ago.

 

If I speak now does it bring even more focus to the silence I’m breaking?

 

My arms itch.

 

What is the chance I can get through this visit without everything crashing down on me? Better to not think about it.

 

How has no one broken this silence? I would say it’s a deliberate mind game, but even I’m not that paranoid.

 

Fine. I’ll be the scapegoat (The book of Little literature ended up being even better than expected. Such colorful and fun language. The swear words alone could fill a small dictionary).

 

“I thought you were at the balloon festival for the weekend”. There. Easy normal conversation. No need to notice that I apparently am suffering rigor mortis from the neck down.

 

“I was, but when I heard what happened I decided to come home early”. Of course it’s my fault. Everything nowadays seems to be.

 

“Sorry”. I almost went this year, but couldn’t find anyone to swap shifts. Probably because I don’t have any friends at work. Or anywhere else for that matter. Present company excluded.

 

“Nothing to be sorry about dear”. Why does she always have to be so nice?

 

“Is there a reason you're stiff as a board and hiding under the covers?”. My face spoke before my voice could. I didn’t even get time to open my mouth before Alex had thrown the covers back.

 

“I can explain!”. In my defense it looks a lot worse than it is. I wasn’t currently bleeding, but my arms, torso, and sheets were caked in dried blood. Blood loss always needs to factor in time to really consider how dangerous it is.

 

“Mom can you watch her? I’m going to go grab a nurse”. Alex is out of the room before evening getting a response.

 

“Sure sweetie”. The same sweet and patient voice as always. How is she the most calm?

 

“Sorry”. Pulling the covers back up at this point would be pointless.

 

“Shh. It’s okay”. Why am I such a fucking idiot?

 

“Do you want to look at some pictures of the festival before Alex comes back? I got some good ones of the pirate”. A man came every year dressed as a pirate and had a black balloon with a skull on it (Littles call it the Jolly Rogers, which is a much better name). Scared the crap out of Alex and I when he showed that the hook hand was for real. Farming accident, but that still makes him a real pirate in my eyes.

 

“Thanks”. I reply meekly. Staring at the foot of the bed.

 

Taking a seat, she starts to scroll through pictures on her phone.

 

“Did you go up this year?”. After going year after year, we built a rapport with some of the owners. It felt like a secret club as a kid.

 

“It was a tad windy so I didn’t ask this time. I know it’s safe, but I can’t get over the image of a balloon in the wind”. There has never been any accident more serious than a bruise, but it sure doesn’t feel that way when you get a strong gust.

 

Yet another thing that is my fault. She would have been able to go today if not for me.

“The wind kept up today, so no need to look so glum”. When Alex and I were kids we thought she could literally read minds. Turns out our thoughts weren’t that complex. Then again, I’ve been caught in every lie for two days, so it’s probably on me.

 

Alex returns with a nurse and a cart. At least the lack of panic on either of them bodes well for me.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll have you cleaned up as good as new”. Taking a seat opposite of Mrs Miller, the smell of antiseptic stings my nose as he gets to work.

 

“Amy, we’ll be right outside. Okay?”. It’s a nice gesture to respect my privacy, although at this point purely symbolic.

“This might sting”. The hint of sympathy in his voice was enough to know there was no ‘might’ about it.

 

The mechanical rhythm sets in for both of us. A light tug here, a gentle push there. 

 

This whole stay has given me a greater appreciation for everyone who works in the medical system. To be able to handle this with clinical detachment is harder than it looks. I should know given that I’m currently failing at just that task. In my defense, the pain does make it more difficult.

 

The continued irony is not lost on me as tears form in my eyes. If there is one upside, it is that I deserve this. 

Breathing sharply through my nose, I feel the familiar comfort of a gauze being wrapped around my arms. In a way it makes me homesick.

 

“I just need to do a skin check, and then I got some new scrubs for you. Don’t worry about the sheets, someone will be in to change your bedding shortly”. At least this step I am utterly desensitized to. I struggle to think of a scenario that tops having someone watch you struggle to go to the bathroom.

 

Changing into an identical copy of paper scrubs I lay back down onto a now sheet free hospital bed. Revealing a plastic coated mattress with faint stains. This feels more appropriate anyhow.

 

“Let us know if you need anything alright?”. A nod and a smile and his departure is paired with Alex’s and Mrs Miller’s return. Concern evident, but unsaid.

 

Grabbing Pokey and pulling her to my chest, I await the awkward silence doomed to follow.

 

“Hands”. Despite being an objectively simple word, I’m a bit perplexed.

 

“What?”. My shock does little to slow Alex’s agenda as she pulls my hands into her lab.

 

“I’m going to trim your nails. This whole thing has been stressful. It’s perfectly natural to cope however you can. So instead of trying to tax your willpower to resist, I’m taking away the temptation. I know we are both tired of apologies, so let’s skip that step and go right into making this better”. I’m glad one of us can think rationally. Dr Martinez was right, freedom from choice is not always a contradiction. 

 

“Thanks”. I hate manicures, but I think I can make this an exception.

 

“Did you still want to hear about the rest of the trip?”. Asked in the same way as if the interruption was a phone call.

 

“Please”. I love listening to vacation stories, assuming I like the person. Someone I like telling me about the fun they had. I feel good for them.

 

Getting lost in Mrs Miller’s narration is easy, each picture its own story. As a librarian she had time set aside to read to kids. I would hang out in an aisle off the side pretending to not listen even as a teen. After enough feigned disinterest I was ‘promoted’ to her helper on the weekends. I didn’t get paid or anything, but I had fun.

 

“Feet”. My trance was broken with yet another proclamation.

 

“Wait. I don’t do that with my feet”. I’m not sure how I would even go about that. I’m not that flexible.

 

“And now you never will”. The smugness was not strictly necessary.

 

“Really, I’ve only used my fingers”. Is there a verbal way of indicating an asterisk? Because that statement comes with many a caveat. 

 

“Amy. I can leave it like this if you really want, but can you honestly say it wouldn’t tempt you?”. I guess I could scratch my legs.

 

“Okay. Do it”. The first smart choice I’ve made all day.

 

“Ever bite?”. A question better suited to a dog, but I guess that’s where we’re at.

 

“Sometimes. But I never break the skin”. How would she even fix this? Mouth guard? She couldn’t have brought a pacifier with her. Could She?

 

“Relax. I was just going to see if you were allowed gum”. Mind reading seems to be hereditary.

 

“I promise I won’t. Please, I don’t want the nurses to think I’m any more crazy than they already do”. Pointless I know, but I’ve been embarrassed enough for one day.

 

“Okay, but I will be checking for bite marks. Do we have a deal?”. Having the implied threat of what happens if she finds one is certainly a strong motivator.

 

“Deal”. The sudden urge to bite my arm will just have to wait.

 

“And what will you do if you need help?”. I feel like the kid being called on after not doing their homework.

 

“Call a nurse or ask to talk to you”. It’s not like I didn’t know that before. Can’t plead ignorance now.

 

“Good. With that business finished, do you still want us here?”. Did she really need to ask?

 

“Yes please”. Minus the scenery, we could have been on Mrs Miller’s back porch. I got to hear about the rest of the trip, and even played a few hands of cards that Alex brought. 

 

I hope I get to go home soon.

 

---

 

As the mid morning gave way to the mid afternoon Mrs Miller had to head home. It was good to see her, although with her gone there were some questions that had been lingering.

 

“So… On a scale of one to completely fucked, how fired am I? Because I was supposed to start my shift over an hour ago”. Maybe it would be better to use a logarithmic scale, because I have a pretty good idea of just how fucked I am.

 

“You’re not fired”. Alex didn’t even blink.

 

“Are you sure? Because getting fired sounds like exactly what happens for a no show”. Or more accurately, that is exactly what happens.

 

“I texted your manager yesterday to say that you would be unavailable until further notice owing to a medical issue”. I’ve seen him chew out a girl for being late coming from a funeral. I don’t think he cares.

 

“And what did he say?”. And sorry you had to read it.

 

“Things that are better left un-repeated, but it doesn’t matter. You’re not fired for having a medical emergency, and you shouldn’t be thinking about work anyways”. Why do I get the feeling that’s a partial truth?

 

“Even if I’m not fired right now, there is no chance it stays that way when I’m going to be gone for who knows how many days”. I don’t want to be in the same zip code as him when it comes to that conversation.

 

“Do you trust me?”. This isn’t about the job anymore, is it?

 

“Yes”. How could I not trust her after everything that has happened.

 

“Then don’t worry about it. I took care of it, and there is nothing you need to do. Okay?”. The pleading at the end feels like a gut punch.

 

“Okay”. I go back to hugging Pokey, trying not to think about the implications of this conversation.

 

“Speaking of heading home, do you have any ideas of when?”. I know I pretty much asked to not have to make decisions, but the amount of information I get wouldn’t fill up one side of a note card.

 

“A few days”. Her smile does little to reassure me.

 

“Do you know why they are holding me? I would have expected to either be discharged or sent to a padded room by now”. And one of those sounds much more likely.

 

“They want to make sure you’re safe, plus it is time to be able to line up a therapist and a nutritionist for when you are home”. That’s… plausible.

 

“So I’m really coming home? That wasn’t a white lie?”. I don’t know what kind of bureaucratic magic Alex worked to keep me out of that, but I will forever be grateful.

 

“Yes Amy. You are really coming home. Just try to relax in the meantime. Okay?”. Said in the same tone as a parent pleading with their kid to calm down about Christmas being tomorrow.

 

“Thanks”. I could do this. Only a few more days. Just don’t fuck this up.

 

“There is one thing I want you to work on until then. You need to eat more”. A stone drops in my stomach. So much for doing this.

 

“I have been eating . Really!”. At least more than I had been.

 

“I know, but to be healthy it needs to be more”. I don’t think I doctor was needed for that to be clear. I’m well aware of how stupid I’m being.

 

“How much more?”. I mentally brace myself for the answer.

 

“I spoke to the nurses, and they said 50%”. I have generously been eating 33% (realistically 20%). 50% feels like a mountain from that.

 

“50% of every meal? Or like 50% of a meal each day”. I could manage half a meal a day. As long as they let me take most of the day.

 

“50% of every meal. I know it’s a lot, but I know you can do it”. It’s not even good food.

 

“I’ll try”. Really. If this is the thing she wants of me, then I’ll give it my all. Still, it's better to keep expectations low.

 

“Thank you”. The head pat was appreciated if slightly patronizing.

 

---

 

The rest of the week was a blur. Alex came by a few times and so did Mrs Miller. Exchanging books and chatting until it was time for me to be nagged about eating a neglected meal. I did try, and I know I ate more than before, but 50% was too high a goal. I think everyone on some level knew that.

 

On Wednesday I learned that I would be going home Thursday, and that’s when the paperwork started.

 

Most of it I just asked for them to set aside and let Alex handle, but some I had to do myself.

 

‘Contract for safety’. I have now filled out five of these and still don’t understand them. It’s a non-binding contract and is effectively made under duress. Even if I wasn’t trying to get better, I still would have signed it to leave. I doubt they had any misconceptions about it either, but liability is liability.

 

Add risk assessments and self evaluations and I had had enough. They eventually stopped bringing them after I started making paper airplanes out of them and throwing them into the hall. Yes I am aware how mature that makes me. Bite me.

 

Then comes the waiting. There’s a lot of it, and it goes by slowly.

 

There isn’t a clock in my room so I can only guess at the time. Alex should be here any minute, but I thought that at least fifteen minutes ago. Or what I think was fifteen minutes ago. My head hurts.

 

Reading the same paragraph for the seventh time in a row, I try and fail to retain any of the words. Alex had told me it was a fun and forgettable mystery novel. Although I can’t really blame the book for the latter.

 

“Get changed”. My cyclical thoughts break as a bag lands on my feet.

 

Non-monochromatic clothes made out of something other than waxy paper. How I missed you.

 

“So this is it. I’m really going home”. Half muffled in my race to embrace the loving comfort of a cotton t-shirt.

 

“Was it really all that bad?”. Embarrassing? Sure. Bad? Some, but that was mostly my fault. Necessary? Yes, but only begrudgingly so. 

 

“No, not all bad. Still, I’ll be happy to be home. I think I missed a few calls from my bed”. Can’t forget my shower. Even after all of this I’m still not a exhibitionist, and could do without an audience.

 

“I already checked in at the nurse’s desk, so as soon as you’re ready we can get going”.

 

“Assuming I still know how shoes function, we should be good to go”.

 

Getting to my feet was more of an effort than expected, but a helping hand and I was ready to go. 

 

“I know you’re excited, but take it slow. The last thing either of us want is for you to fall and be stuck here for a few more days”. Sufficiently kowtowed, I held Alex’s hand as we slowly made it to the parking garage.

 

Alex got her mom’s car when she turned sixteen and it shows. Faded band stickers, eight different parking passes, and a distinct smell that was surprisingly not from smoking. Neither of us were cool enough to get in with that crowd.

Relaxing as she finishes helping me into the front seat, I pinch myself just to be sure this isn’t a dream.

 

The ride home is quiet. It’s pretty clear that both of us are glad for this whole ordeal to be over. Sure there will be appointments and follow ups, but I’m free. We can hang out, watch movies, and be friends without an invisible wall between us, maybe for the first time in years.

 

“It’s been almost a week. I never thought I would be this happy to see a parking lot in my life”. The stupid parking space that we had to extra for, and which charitably could be called ‘relatively close’ at best.

 

“Come on. There’s a lot of stairs between us and home”. Is there a hint of somber in her voice? She’s probably just tired. I know I am.

 

Many flights of stairs later (and a break), we are finally home. Alex grabs her keys as I lean against the wall.

 

Following Alex in, I stop dead in my tracks. The lights are on and a tall woman in a black suit is sitting at the kitchen table. A stack of paper in front of her.

 

“Hello Amy. My name’s Tara Black. Why don’t you take a seat”.

[Guilend]

OMG I couldn’t believe it when I woke up and saw an update. I loved the paper airplane part. Getting out of those places does feel like it takes forever the last day.  
 

I love this chapter. And Ms Miller.