Helen Poston<br/>Tuesday 4 September 2012<br/>Latter Part of 7th Period until Isolde arrives after the dismissal bell<br/>Mr. Baker's Classroom<br/><br/>(Part one, character limit forces splitting this up over two posts!(Brace for incoming! (We have word sign? Usul we have word sign the like GOD has never seen!)))<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Helen hadn't waited on Isolde.<br/><br/>She'd thought about her though.  Thought about her all through World History and later in last period gymnastics.  Thought about how she looked and how nice she had been to help Helen with her math worksheet.  Thought about those eyes with the beauitful grey rings and how Isolde had blushed, just a little bit, when she invited Helen to come over to her house to help Helen some more.  Thought about her hair.  A lot about her hair.  It was the one thing Helen had been able to stare at all period long without it looking weird.  Isolde's hair was just pretty, like layers of different colors that sometimes held firm and sometimes tangle around one another and made a muddy beautiful new color.  Once, when no one was paying attention to her, Helen had reached out and pulled a short piece of it where it lay abandoned on the back of Isolde's blouse.  Helen rubbed it between her fingers until she dropped it by accident.  What would her full head of hair feel like?  Was it soft?<br/><br/>"Helen!"<br/><br/>The shout made her look up just in time to reach out and help Jennifer from over rotating on the dismount  She was supposed to be spotting, not daydreaming.  Jennifer teetered, weight too far forward, and Helen's hand was too low on her belly, below the moment.  Jennifer went over the hand and landed awkwardly on the mat.<br/><br/>"Oh my god.  Jennifer, I'm so sorry," Helen said and bent down to help her team mate up.<br/><br/>"I'm okay," Jennifer said and pulled herself up via Helen's arm.  "What happened?  I looked up and you were just zoning out instead of watching for me."  It wasn't an accusation, but there was serious concern behind the question.  With the crappy school coach they had, Helen and Jennifer and the other girls who competed on the out of school squad had to more or less run practice themselves.  That included spotting and safety.<br/><br/>"I... I don't know.  I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something I guess."  About someone, Helen's mind corrected.<br/><br/>Jennifer put her arm on her friend's shoulder and shook her a little bit, making Helen look over at her.  "What's got you so worried?"<br/><br/>"Mr. Baker," Helen lied with a facility that surprised her.<br/><br/>"Yeah.  That sucks you got him again. Still, look at Felicity.  That girl had more boobs than brains and she managed to get an A in his class."  Jennifer walked with Helen over to the next exercise.<br/><br/>"He did a lot of tutoring with her.  He wants me to come by after school today and get some help.  Like, he really insisted on it."  Helen and Jennifer waited in line for their turn to vault.  "I don't know though.  I mean, Felicity was in there every day.  And she never looked happy whenever someone mentioned how much he was helping her."<br/><br/>"Yeah," Jennifer agreed.  "But she got an A.  I guess it's like gymnastics.  You have to work for it if you want it.  Anyway, Felicity moved, remember?  Her parents sent her off to some private school."  Jennifer got ready to run down the lane.  "You should go in for help," she said then took off, ponytail flying behind her.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Helen had ditched the last fifteen minutes of gym to go to Mr. Baker's room.  She was still in her leo and shorts in fact, and her grips dangled loose about her wrists.  There was chalk all over her and she was barefoot.  Helen figured if anyone asked her for a pass, she could say she just went to get a drink, or go to the nurse for girl stuff, especially if it was one of the male guards.  That freaked them right out, like they couldn't wait to send you on your way, pass or no pass.<br/><br/>Mr. Baker's door was open and he didn't have a class. Cool!  It had been her plan to just talk to him real quick in the middle of his class and say she'd gotten help from a friend and maybe get excused from tutoring.  But now she would be able to get help before 7th period ended and not have Isolde there, waiting or maybe making Mr. Baker upset.  She also worried about what Isolde would say to him.  She was so... so upfront about things.  Like she didn't care about arguing with adults.  The best part though was they could go right to her house!<br/><br/>"Mr. Baker?  It's Helen?"  She stood just inside his doorway.<br/><br/>He held up a finger to signal her to wait, then finished typing an email and looked up at her.  The merest tug of something that might be mistaken for a smile made his lips twitch.  "Hello, Helen.  I've been waiting for you.  And you're early.  Good.  Come in and shut the door behind you so we won't be distracted by noise in the hallway."<br/><br/>The darkness inside her roiled in uncertainty.  Helen just felt suddenly a little bit like being at the top of a swing and starting to come down on, that moment of everything dropping out from underneath you.  It passed and she shut the door.  Mr. Baker had papered over the little window in it with a picture of a graphing calculator.  "I came by for tutoring," she said and walked towards the desks.  "I thought, since like gym was so slow today, we could do it now?  Is that okay?"<br/><br/>"Sit here instead," he said and pointed to a short stool beside his chair on his side of the desk.  "I like to work with students at my desk where i have everything I need."  He nudged the stool a little bit away from his chair.  "And I'm very glad you came in early. That gives me more time with you.  Good work, Helen," he smiled warmly.<br/><br/>"Oh, okay," Helen said and smiled.  Mr. Baker was being nice!  That never happened.  She took the stool beside his desk.  It was awful close to him, so close she could smell the slightly sour scent of his armpits and the Old Spice aftershave he wore.  "So, like, I got some of the problems right, Mr. Baker.  Another student said so."<br/><br/>"Good," he said and patted her on the shoulder.  "I'm proud of you for that.  Now, let's start with some review."  For the next ten minutes he led her through the steps, working problems and being very liberal with his praise.<br/><br/>Helen started to smile, then started to feel really comfortable with him. Mr. Baker was being so nice!  It was not at all like freshman year. He even kept giving her little pats on the shoulder, the arm, even a hug or two. "This is really helping me, Mr. Baker," she said and looked over at him with a beaming smile.  "Like, way more than you helped me freshman year."<br/><br/>"Well, you've grown up a lot since then, Helen.  You were just a flat chested little girl then. Now, look at you," he said and nodded towards where the leotard was cupping her breasts.  It flattened them down a lot, and she wasn't especially big, but they were breasts.  "All grown up," he said again and put his arm clear across her back and held onto her opposite shoulder.  "Helen, do you want it to be like freshman year?  Or do you want it to be like this, just the two of us working and having fun and maybe you can make an A this time.  Won't your parents like that?"<br/><br/>"Um...yeah?"  She felt more than a little uncomfortable but it was okay.  He was a teacher, right?  And he'd really helped Felicity.  "They would be really proud of me."<br/><br/>"Well, then we have to spend a lot of time together," Mr. Baker said and squeezed her shoulder.  "A lot of time.  Now, work the next problem."<br/><br/>"Okay. Mr. Baker."  He didn't let go, even when Helen started to write.  She was frowning in concentration when he put his hand on her thigh.  Helen stopped, pencil poised over the paper.  "Mis...Mister Baker?"<br/><br/>"Shh," he whispered and leaned in close to her.  His hand squeezed her thigh, the bare skin totally exposed beneath where her leotard ended.  "Keep working," he admonished. "Strive for that A.  You do want an A, right?  Right?" he asked again, a little roughly.<br/><br/>Helen nodded.  The pencil in her hand shook.<br/><br/>"Good.  Now, keep working," he directed and pinched the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.  He didn't let go either, just kept pinching.<br/><br/>Helen tried.  She tried to ignore the feeling of his hand, of the painful pinch.  Tears welled up in her eyes and clouded her work so she couldn't see.  The more she tried, tried so he'd quit, the worse it got.  The pencil lead snapped and she dropped the #2 onto the worksheet.<br/><br/>"That's not very good at all, Helen."  Mr. Baker let go of her skin and began to rub it in circles.  "Does that feel better?"<br/><br/>Helen just sat there, petrified, and the tears threatened to spill over.  She wanted to throw up.<br/><br/>"Does it?" He asked again harder.<br/><br/>"Yes," she whispered.<br/><br/>"So which do you prefer?  This?" he pinched her quite hard making Helen jump but his arm across her shoulder held her down.  "Or this?"  Mr. Baker began to rub her thigh again.<br/><br/>"Please, Mr Baker. Please, I..."<br/><br/>"Answer me," he said and poised his fingers to pinch again.  "Pinch or rub?  You decide, Helen."<br/><br/>"Rub."<br/><br/>"No.  Say 'Please rub me, Mr. Baker. Please make it feel good.'"<br/><br/>"Please ru- ru- rub mmmm me, Mr. Baker.  Pppppplease make it feel good."  The darkness inside screamed to be let out, but the room was too bright, the distraction too much.<br/><br/>"Of course, Helen.  And remember, you asked me to."  He started to rub her thigh, hand moving up higher and higher towards her center.  Mr. Baker started to breath heavier.  His fingers brushed the crotch of her leotard.<br/><br/>The bell rang, startling both of them, and Heather bolted.  The stool fell over with a crack and she fumbled hard at the door.  Just as it opened, Mr. Baker's hand slammed into it, shutting it and he held it with his weight.  "Shhh," he said and stroked her hair.  When Helen tried to move, he grabbed the back of her neck and spun her to face him.  "You asked me to, remember?  If you tell anyone, I'll tell them what you asked me to do, Helen.  What bad things you wanted me to do.  What you asked for," he repeated.  "You don't want that.  No.  You want to be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut, right?"<br/><br/>She nodded, breath coming in shivery little gasps.<br/><br/>Mr. Baker let go and opened the door.  "See you tomorrow, Helen," he called out in a normal voice.  "Good job today in tutoring."<br/><br/>Just like Felicity before her, Helen didn't look happy leaving tutoring.  She walked down the hallway towards the gym, arms wrapped around herself.<br/><br/>Isi was glad.<br/><br/>She was glad that she had met someone she could talk to. She was glad that someone had accepted an invite of help with maths, no, wait, they called it math over here... With math homework. What was that about anyway? You didn't just do it once, you did it repeatedly, it was quite clearly maths. Silly and lazy north Americans. Dropping all the 'U's out fo the good words and calling things by the wrong names. She was glad that she had remembered to find out Helen's name too. That could have been awkward the longer it went. Three years down the line seeing each other in the street and having to admit that the entire time they were friends in high school she never knew the girl's name...<br/><br/>No, Helen seemed nice and interesting and fun and there had been that look that went on too long and felt electric and incredible and Isi hadn't minded at all...<br/><br/>And there was Helen looking miserable and...<br/><br/>Wait... Back up...<br/><br/>Isi stopped, her face hitting a look of concern almost instantly, her heckles very much up she raced over to Helen, "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"<br/><br/>"Nothing happened!"  The words were shouted, completely at odds with her tiny form.  Inside Helen the darkness seethed, roiling in a thick, angry fog that demanded to be let out but was imprisoned as surely as if her arms wrapped around her body held it in. "Just leave me alone," she said and spun to the left, twirling completely around and past any possible chance Isolde might have had of grabbing her.  Several students nearby looked over, hoping for a fight, but when one wasn't forthcoming they went back to hanging out against the walls.<br/><br/>She walked quickly away.  Not from Isolde.  From that room.  From him.<br/><br/><em>He did a lot of tutoring with her.<br/><br/>She never looked happy...<br/><br/>Her parents sent her off..</em><br/><br/>Now she knew why.  Now she understood.  Felicity had been just like her.  She was just like Felicity.  But why did she get sent away?<br/><br/><em>Shhh.  <br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>Remember.  You asked me to.</em><br/><br/>"No, it wasn't like that," she whispered to herself.  "No.  No no no."<br/><br/><em>If you tell anyone, I'll tell them what you asked me to do, Helen.  <br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...tell them what you asked me to do.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...tell them what you asked me to do.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>You want to be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>..be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>..be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...keep your mouth shut.</em><br/><br/>Helen ran into the bathroom and fell onto her knees inside the stall.  The black plastic of the seat was cold on her hands as she clung to it, then vomited what little lunch she'd had.  She kept retching, over and over, even when there was nothing else to get out of her tummy.<br/><br/>What was in her refused to come out.<br/><br/>Isi looked even more concerned and slightly taken aback at Helen's outburst, then followed her through the crowd and slipped quietly into the bathroom behind her. Lifted herself up and sat on the sink block and studied her fingers which were looking odd again, too short, too small. The sound of Helen's distress was too much though and she stalked over to the door, knocking on it quietly.<br/><br/>"Hey. I know you told me to go away, but... I want to help. I have to offer to come in there and give you a hug, because if I don't my heart is going to jump out of my chest and choke me till I do it. I don't want that." There was hurt and care and worry all rolled up in the English girls voice, "Please, if I can, I want to help. Really."<br/><br/>"Don't come in," Helen pleaded.  "I'm...I just don't feel good," she lied then rested her head against the wall of the stall.  It felt so good.  So cold and hard and like it would protect her.  Protect her from him.  Helen's stomach churned and she heaved again.  Heaved until her belly cramped and she could barely breathe.<br/><br/>"Bad fish sticks," she called out to Isolde, then flushed the toilet after wiping her mouth with a wad of toilet paper.  Helen stood up and pulled the door inward, not looking at Isolde.  At the sink she began to wash her hands.  When she looked up into the mirror, her face was pale, freckles standing out in stark relief.  "I'm sorry," she said to the girl in the mirror, but likely Isolde would think it was meant for her.<br/><br/>Isi looked a little different, still the same girl wearing the same clothes but her eyes were a lighter blue and she had a lot more freckles all of sudden, in a pattern almost exactly like Helen's own. Not that Isi herself seemed to have spotted anything wrong.<br/><br/>She watched Helen sweep past and arrive at the sinks, watched her start to wash up, her hands opening and closing a few times, "I... Don't think it was bad food. Only I don't want to force you to talk to me or tell me anything, I just met you, how can you trust me?" Her voice wasn't as English as it was before, a little north American twang had crept into it somehow, this Isi herself did find odd, but she couldn't stop now, had to plough on through. "I do want to help though. However I can. Whatever you need." She looked down at her boots for a few moments, sucking on her lower lip, noticed her hands again, too small, fingers too short, was it a trick of her mind? It had been happening all day, ever since History class. Come to that, her chest was looking, well, fuller than normal, felt heavier. Normally she had practically nothing, now it looked, at least through the heavy cotton boy work shirt she had on, like she had at least an A cup.<br/><br/>"I..." What. The. Haemorrhaging fuck? "I didn't have these earlier..?" She glanced up at herself in the mirror, her face went a little slack she leaned in, "Freckles... What..."<br/><br/>"There's nothing to tell," she shook her head at her reflection.  "Nothing happened," she lied, though every time it came out, the lie became closer to the truth.  Nothing had happened, nothing she hadn't asked him for anyway.  It was all her fault.  She shouldn't have done it, made him do it.  And she had to keep her mouth shut.  "It was bad milk."<br/><br/>Helen shook her hands dry then tried to drown out the voice in her head with the screeching hissing blow of the hand dryer.  She hit it again when it stopped.  Then a third time, hands long since dry but the noise making thinking and talking hard.  She didn't want to think.  "You want to help me?  Help me with math.  Make me understand it," she said, almost angry.  Helen turned around, about to say something else, but stopped.  She looked at Isolde, then at herself in the mirror, then at Isolde again.  Helen came to stand beside her.<br/><br/>"Bend down," she said and put her hand on Isolde's arm, pulling on it.  "Lower."  She didn't stop pulling until their heads were at equal height.  Helen stared at Helen and...almost-Helen staring back at her from the mirror.  Her hand reached out to touch the mirror, finding it cold and glass as expected and her hand met its twin on the glass.  "I thought your eyes were grey," she said.  "But they're the same color as mine.  And were you wearing concealer earlier?  I don't remember freckles."<br/><br/>"My..." Isi looked in the mirror, pulling away from Heather in the process, her face was normal, her eyes were dark blue with grey circles, even her chest was... Flat. Okay, that was a disappointment. Her hands were normal again too. "I think... I think I might be going insane. I had, like, tits, just a moment ago. Little ones, but tits. Now... Nothing. I don't... Normally I have nothing." Isi glanced at Heather in the mirror, back down at her own chest. "Hangon..." She turned her back on Helen, undid the buttons on the cream heavy cotton work shirt. Opened it up and checked out her chest, unaware seemingly that the mirror gave Helen a view of her nipples. "That's normal. So why did it look..." She buttoned things back up, put a hand to her forehead. "Maths. I was going to teach you maths."<br/><br/>Helen looked uncertain, but everything was back to normal now.  Right?<br/><br/><em>You’ll never be normal again.  Please rub me, Mr. Ba-</em><br/><br/>“Shut up,” she whispered.    “Just, shut up.”<br/><br/>“Sorry.” Isi shook her head, “I just... Why would I think...” She put her hands on her chest, felt around, normal. “Sorry.” she said again. “Going insane. Plus, I came in here to help you, not to go stark raving bloody mad.”<br/><br/>“What?”  Helen looked away from her inner conflict and saw Isolde.  Really saw here.  The real Isolde, not the...that hadn’t happened.  Just like Mr. Baker hadn’t happened.  “Isolde?  Can we just go?  I mean, just go to your house?”  She wasn’t even thinking about her school satchel and clothes still in her locker in the gym.<br/><br/>“Of course, yes. Right away.” Isi fidgeted with her messenger bag, gave Helen the best smile she could which was somewhat disappointingly lopsided right then. She nodded again and headed for the door to the ladies. “Ah, I am not very good at finding my way about here yet. Could you lead please?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” she said and took Isolde’s hand.  Helen's hand was small and very clean in Isolde’s, and she’d velcroed her grips up out of the way.  “Come on.”  All the way through the building she kept hold of Helen’s hand.  When they had to pass back by Mr. Baker’s room, Helen’s grip became frantically tight and her palm was all cold sweat.  The fingers began to relax as they moved away until she was just holding it normally again.  Only when they were filing onto the bus did she let go.<br/><br/>The tall, green vinyl seat swallowed her up and Helen scooted to inside, but immediately moved back over once Isolde was seated. Her bare thigh and calf touched Isolde’s leg.  There was already a large bruise forming on the inside of her left thigh, high up near where Helen’s leotard ended.<br/><br/>“Should you have changed?” Isi whispered, “Not that you have to. My mum won’t mind. Geoff might stare of course... He does that. Boys.” She had enjoyed the hand holding, the squeeze past that one door had been somewhat odd. But the hand holding in general had been really nice, it was it seemed wont to cause strange sensations in Isi’s belly and chest.<br/><br/>“I just wanted to get out of there,” she said, voice pitched low because Isolde was talking quiet.  Not like anyone could hear them over the noise of the diesel, the blaring CB radio or the other kids.  “I’ll get my stuff tomorrow.  Maybe you have like a t-shirt or something I can borrow?  Or something you’ve outgrown?”  Helen scooted closer, as if trying to push herself into Isolde.  Then she squirmed some more and put her arm up under Isoldes and took her hand again.  “I’m sorry I threw up.”<br/><br/>“No. Not allowed. No apologising for throwing up. You were... Upset.” Isi ventured, “I think we can steal something from my sister? She isn’t very b... She is smaller. Most of my stuff you would swim in.” The hand holding again. And leaning. Well, almost leaning. This was doing things to Isi, little fireworks were happening in her head. “I’m... We live on the outskirts. Its quite a nice house. You’ll like it.”<br/><br/>And that sounded lame. She ruined it. Whatever it was, whatever was going on she had opened her mouth and said something stupid and ruined it. And now she had that song going through her head, the ‘Something Stupid’ song. Good song. But not what she needed right then. Isi sucked on her lips and glanced down at their hands. Her hand was looking small again. Her breath caught. There was a freckle and she had seen it before. On Helen’s other hand. Isi didn’t have one there, or fingers that short and pretty. Hers were long and thing and some of them curved a bit to the left or right, hand dependent. It was her arm alright, but the hand was... A blink and the effect was gone again.<br/><br/>Isolde’s hand felt...right.  Like it was one of her own she was holding.  Helen rubbed her thumb across the back of it.  It just fit, was just the right size.  Weird, because Isolde was so much taller.  You’d think she would have bigger hands.  Helen kept rubbing little circles, not really sure why, only knowing that it still felt like the right thing to do.  It made her feel better.  Safer.  “You have a little sister?  What’s her name?  Is she pretty like you?”  Now Isolde’s hand felt like someone else’s, and that was okay too.  Because it was Isolde’s.  Isolde.  Isolde.  The name echoed in her head like a mantra.<br/><br/>“Helen.” Isi said, then caught herself, her face going to ‘oh shit’ mode, eyes wide, “Oh, er, no, Heide. Yeah. The girls wound up with German names, the boy with a British one. Our mum is German. She has the accent and everything, though she speaks better English than I do. Except when she’s mad. Then you can’t move for German. Mostly swear words though.” Isi smiled a little at that thought, then frowned, “She hasn’t been the same lately.”<br/><br/>“Everyone in your family has such, I don’t know, exotic?  Exotic names.  Like you’re all actors or something.  Yours is the prettiest.  Isolde.  Isolde,” she repeated, drawing it out.  “Not like Helen.  I mean, what did a Helen ever do?”<br/><br/><em>Should we tell them?</em><br/><br/>Helen banished the voice with a shake of her head.  Her hand slipped from Isolde’s grasp and the shorter girl wrapped her arms around herself again.  She looked down into her lap, to where the bruise was.<br/><br/><em>I made that happen.  I’m not good.</em><br/><br/>Isi’s eyes shot down to where the hand had been. She felt its loss, she wanted to put an arm around Helen, tell her it was okay, that everything was going to be alright, only she didn’t really have the right words. “My mum’s name is Rosamund.” Isi mused, “That’s fairly pretty. Thanks though.” She felt like she was blushing fit to burst, her chest was tight, it was just a name, she hadn’t said that Isi was pretty. Nearly though, and that was so... Nice. And sorta dangerous, but in such a great and wonderful way. Something had the potential to be happening here, but Isi wasn’t sure if it was or could or even should. Helen was hurting, badly, she needed help and... It was up to Isi.<br/><br/>It took a good five seconds of good hard lower lip gnawing, the kind that brings pain and concentration and steels you for the task ahead before the English girl reached out and put an arm around Helen’s shoulders. Pulling her into a simple one armed hug.<br/><br/>As soon as Isolde touched her, Helen squirmed.  But not to get away.  Rather she turned so her back was pressed into Isolde’s side and Helen drew her legs up onto the seat, while at the same time taking Isolde’s hand and drawing it, and her arm, around and in front so she ended up cradled inside the circle of it.  It felt safe.  It felt happy, and Helen rested her chin on Isolde’s arm the rest of the trip.<br/><br/>The bus was all but empty when it pulled into a really long driveway, paved and not dirt or crushed stone.  Helen noticed by the change in the noise the tires made.  When the bus stopped and she felt Isolde’s change in posture, Helen spoke.  “That’s your house?  Wow.  It’s really nice.”  She reluctantly let go of Isolde’s arm and stood up to follow her off the bus.<br/><br/>“We... Sort of won it in a government auction. It needs some work and whoever had it before? They decorated it in ‘Early maniac’ everything is gold and garish. We have a lot of fittings to replace.”<br/><br/>She offered her hand to Helen to lead her off the bus and towards the house. The vintage English racing green MG convertible sat in front of the garage told her Geoff was home. Isi took off her jacket and handed it to Helen, “Here, put this on. Its long and will help. Don’t want too much big brother ogling going on.”<br/><br/>The jacket was warm and smelled of Isolde.  It was the most comforting thing in the world, even if the sleeves flapped loose way past her hands.  It smelled like her and it was warm from her and she’d given it to Helen.  She wrapped it around herself, head almost lost in the neck, and looked like a little Raggedy Ann doll someone had stuffed into a toddler’s coat.  The first thing she did was snake a hand out and reclaim Isolde’s.  “Thank you, Isolde.  It’s really soft.”<br/><br/>She took in the house, every bit of it.  It was huge!  Isolde said she didn’t like the decorating, but everything looked expensive and classy to Helen’s firmly blue collar eyes.  What would it be like to live in a house like this, instead of one where you could hear everything going on outside and the windows leaked air around the bottom edges?<br/><br/>“Are we going to go to your room or the kitchen table?”<br/><br/>“My room.” Isi said firmly. “Fewer Geoff’s there.” She took Helen in via the back door next to the garage, not really a back door per-say as it wasn’t at the back of the house, but the closest they had in the Black household. The corridor inside revealed a laundry room a door to the garage and the door to the cellar. It was the latter that Isolde took. The stairs were really wide a strange feature that had come with the house. The carpet was a garish yellow currently, though that would likely change by the sound of things. They passed a family room and Isi lead the way to her bedroom.<br/><br/>It was. Big. Bigger than a bedroom likely had any right to be. With a kingsize bed and a three seater sofa, a large computer desk with a pair of large monitors on it that looked old but serviceable. There were little clues all over the room to Isolde’s general state of mind.<br/><br/>She had girl stuff like stuffed animals, yet also there was a shelf above her computer desk with classic Generation one Transformers re-issues and even a few original un-boxed ones. She had a fully built original European issue of Redhorn the Terrible and a number of other smaller wind up reds, which was incredibly rare in North America as Zoids weren't officially released there at that time. She had an action man wearing barbie clothes holding a spatula holding hands with a Barbie doll wearing action man clothes holding an assault rifle. Someone had taken the time to re-cut the clothes, even adding fabric in the case of the action man, to make them fit right. She had posters on the walls, all in frames, all for films.<br/><br/>Reservoir Dogs, Unforgiven, The Breakfast Club, The Killer, Twelve Monkeys, Brazil, The Iron Giant, Metropolis (original Fritz Lang), Hellraiser, Evil Dead II, Alien, Fight Club and last but not least Monty Python's Life of Brian. Her computer desk was tidy, though the full size resin model of the Lament Configuration puzzle cube next to her mouse looked almost real. Yet sat the other side of it was a book of stickers of little cartoon kittens. The whole room was like this, a seemingly mismatched jumble of boy and girl stuff.<br/><br/>Isi wandered in and sat on the sofa, putting her messenger bag to one side, she smiled, “Home. Well, kinda. Not really sunk in that we own the place yet. Government auctions are cheap, but you wind up getting what you get. We got this.”<br/><br/>Helen didn’t sit, not immediately.  She walked around the room, hem of Isolde’s jacket reaching down to mid calf, and just looked at things.  She pulled out the kitten sticker book and went through it, smiling a few times, then put it back.  Often she looked over, making sure Isolde was still there and smiling when she was.<br/><br/>“This is so cool.  You have so many nice things.”  Helen walked back over and stood in front of Isolde.  “I bet it gets dark down here, huh?  Like, really dark.  Does it?”<br/><br/>“It does. With no windows down here and all. There are two in the bathroom, but they don’t let in a lot of light anyway, being small.” Isi smiled, “You want me to turn the lights off?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Helen said, sounding very interested.  “I do.  I want to see how dark it is down here with everything off.”  She swiveled side to side, suddenly excited looking and happy, then looked around.  “Okay if I sit on the edge of your bed?”<br/><br/>“Oh, of course, you can lay on the bed if you like.” Isi nodded, stood and walked over to the door to the bathroom, vanished inside, there was the sound of blinds being drawn down. She was back out a moment later and closed the door. She then headed out and turned the lights off in the family room and stairs down from the floor above. Finally coming back into her room and closing the door before turning off the lights.<br/><br/>It was pitch black. “How’s that?” A voice in the dark.<br/><br/>“Perfect,” she said breathily.  “Just perfect.  Oh my gosh, this is so nice!”  It felt way different than the closet.  Bigger.  Open.  More space to play around in and more dark to be wrapped in.  Helen hugged herself, sleeves flapping loudly in the black room.  “I wish I lived here.  That this was my bed in this wonderful dark room.  I bet you sleep so good!  No light to bug you.”  There was the sound of bedding rustling as Helen laid back on it.  Her feet didn’t quite touch the floor where they dangled from the end of the bed.<br/><br/>“Isolde? Can we leave them off for a minute?  I just want to relax.”<br/><br/>“Of course we can.” Isi blinked, then again, she could almost... There was just the hint of... That was weird. Like a warm body showing up against the dark. Almost there but not. Then as she started to examine it, really think about it, she lost it again.<br/><br/>Isi shuffled across the room, hand reaching out to feel for the edge of the bed. She found it. With her leg. Topping forward she fell face first on the large soft but firm mattress.<br/><br/>“Are you okay?”  Helen pulled her legs up onto the bed and got onto her knees.  She took the two shuffling moves necessary and felt her knees brush into the side of Isolde.  Floppy hands, all covered in cloth, reached out and patted to determine just where Isolde lay.  “So, maybe not the best idea, but I still like it.”  And she did.  Already Helen felt calmer, like what had happened were no longer something that could hurt her.  She was safe in the dark, at home in it.  Just like always.  “Get the rest of you on the bed,” Helen urged and mock tugged on each side of Isolde’s ribs.  “Then we can stretch out and not worry about tripping over anything.”<br/><br/>Isi climbed up onto the large bed and laid herself down next to Helen. “You are a fan of the dark then.” A statement not a question. “I like it too. Its nice sometimes. Gives you that floaty feeling.” Isi was quiet for a few moments, “So, did I tell you about my dad?”<br/><br/>“It’s the best,” Helen agreed, sounding happy.  Very happy.  She was content to just lay there, close enough to Isolde to touch shoulders and arms and slender hips.  For a bit it was quiet, both girls just thinking, then Isolde asked her question.<br/>“No,” Helen said gently.  “You know, Isolde, you can say things in the dark sometimes that are hard to think about in the light,” she prompted.  Her hand reached out, fumbling for Isolde’s.<br/><br/>Isi found the hand skitting up her thigh and left it for a few moments, sucking on her lower lip. The little tendrils of electricity that would shoot up her body from the spots where Helen was touching her catching her breath in her chest. At last she reached down and took the hand. Giving it a squeeze.<br/><br/>“He was a pilot, fighter pilot for the RAF.” A beat then, “The Royal Air Force? Anyway, that’s why we moved around a lot. That’s how my dad met my mum, when he was stationed in Germany. Well, he was assigned to be one of the demonstrator pilots for the new plane, the Eurofighter? And there were these trials and demo’s going on at Nellis, scheduled for years. So we all moved down here from Canada. My dad had been one of the instructors at Cold Lake in Alberta? Really boring place. Anyway... So he get’s to do all these demo flights, weapons tests and mock dogfights and all kinds of crazy things. He comes home at nights looking happy and he is home a lot as they don’t fly every day and it was a good time for everyone. Up at cold lake he would have to take the new pilots and navigators on these long range training flights now and again and he would gone for days sometimes weeks. Nellis he was always back at night.”<br/><br/>In the dark, Helen could feel how Isolde was trying to disconnect herself from the story, like it wasn’t real.  Like it hadn’t happened.  Her head shifted, tilting up.  It was impossible to see Isolde’s face, but Helen instinctively tried to.  To let Isolde see hers, and know she was being listened to.  Her thumb began to rub little circles in Isolde’s palm.<br/><br/>Isi sighed, “Then there was an RAF officer ringing our doorbell. He had a pair of US Air Force guys with him who stayed outside. He came in and sat us all down and told us that Dad had been involved in an accident. That his plane had gone down and he hadn’t ejected.” Isi’s voice hitched, badly. Even through her hand Helen could feel the charge of strong emotion coursing through her, “I never said goodbye. I was angry at him the last time I saw him.”<br/><br/>What could you say to that?  Sometimes you just didn’t talk, you were just there.  Like when Kimmie tore her MCL and got knocked off the squad right before state.  Or when Jennifer’s brother ODed on oxy and died.  Words just weren’t enough.  Helen let go of Isolde’s hand, but just so she could roll onto her side and scoot up.  Way up, Isolde was so tall.  Helen pressed herself into Isolde’s shoulder and drew the upset girl’s head over to rest in between her shoulder and neck.  She just held her, one arm across Isolde’s chest, the other curled and cradling the back of Isolde’s hair.<br/><br/>Helen found out what her hair felt like.  It was soft and the uneven cut of it made it fluffy prickly at the same time.<br/><br/>Being held was... Too much. The tears started almost immediately. She felt free and awful and cared for a pathetic all at the same time. This poor girl had only come over for help with her maths and now she was being used by Isi for emotional support. How in the hell did that happen? “Sorry.” She said quietly, almost less than a whisper, and it was unclear if she was saying it to Helen herself or to her father whom she had shouted at the last time had seen him. She said it a few more times, her arms moving to cling to Helen holding her to her. The contact feeling right and allowing Isi free reign to cry somehow. Dampening Helen’s shoulder.<br/><br/>“It’s okay, Isolde,” Helen said into her hair, then kissed it.  “It’s okay.  You don’t have to apologize.”<br/>She rocked slightly, not a lot, but enough to transmit the motion to Isolde, that simple back and forth that people so desperately needed in times like this.  Isolde’s tears were warm then spread unseen damp, cool patches across the slick fabric of Helen’s leotard.  Time passed, but what was time in the dark?  All that mattered was holding Isolde and feeling her cry.  Feeling her get it out.<br/><br/>“I... Its been a year. I should be better.” Isi stated very quietly. “I should be dealing with this much better.” She felt smaller, both to herself and to Helen. Which was strange.<br/><br/>It was easier to hold Isolde now.  A lot easier.  In fact, their feet were touching.  What?  Helen stopped rocking Isolde and sat still, body suddenly tense.  “Isolde?”<br/>“<br/>“Yup?” Not Isi’s voice. Helen’s. “What?” Confusion, “What?” a little fear, “What?” A lot of fear. “That’s not me.”<br/><br/>“I...  I think you’re right.  I think, this is crazy, but do you remember the bathroom?  The mirror?  I, you looked like me,” Helen’s voice was just as worried as Isolde’s, but she didn’t let go of her.<br/><br/>“What? That’s... Not possible.” She thought about it, her clothes felt way too large and, she pulled a hand back from Helen, felt at her chest. “I have tits? I don’t have tits.” Still Helen’s voice.<br/><br/>Helen didn’t recognize her own voice. It always sounded different to yourself than how other people heard it.  But it wasn’t Isolde’s voice.  She should be scared, but in the dark it wasn’t scary.  The dark was never scary.  “Isolde, give me your hand.  Hands,” she added.  “Both of them.”  She reached across and her hand ran across a breast that felt oddly familiar.  “Sorry.  Just...grab my hands.”<br/><br/>“No, its okay.” Isi admitted, “It was... Nice.” Should she have said that? She let Helen find her hands, her breathing was erratic, laboured, she was quite badly scared, but... Having Helen there, touching her was helping. A lot.<br/><br/>Nice?  It felt nice?  Helen let that comment go but it slid down to chortle under her brain’s other priorities.  “Okay.  Like, I’m holding both your hands.  And you can feel my feet, right?  And no one’s here but us?  Now...I don’t know if this is going to work but you have to be still.  Totally still.  Just, lay there.”  Helen took a deep breath and her hands squeezed the small ones she held, so different from Isolde’s and so familiar.  Then she let the breath out and laid her head down on Isolde’s chest.<br/><br/>“Come on,” she whispered.  “It’s okay.  I think, I think you know that.  She won’t hurt you.”<br/><br/>Isi blinked at that. Who was Helen talking to? She trusted the girl, she really did, it was right, and... She wanted to help. This was strange though.<br/><br/>“I know you’re there.  You’re always there but you’re shy.  Scared.  It’s okay.  If she’s me, like we think, you know she won’t hurt us.  Come on,” she said softly then fell silent.  Inside her, uncertain but needing to be let out from the earlier trauma, the darkness roiled.  It started at her feet as usual, spreading as an intangible fog that Helen could feel as sure as if it were real.<br/><br/>“Don’t let go,” she said and slowly opened her hand with Isolde’s inside of it.  Helen splayed her fingers out so Isolde could feel each of them on the back of her hand, and then slightly cupped both of them.  “It won’t hurt you.”<br/><br/>And there it was.  Finally.  The tendril.  It slid into Isolde’s palm and twined around both their hands with vegetable patience.  It was barely perceptible, but there was something there.<br/><br/>“Do you feel it?” she whispered.<br/><br/>“I think... I feel something?” Isi admitted, her voice was more her own again, but she was still the same size. “What is that?” There wasn’t fear in her voice, more curiosity. “Kinda tickly?”<br/><br/>“I think it’s the dark,” Helen said and the tendril coiled slowly back and forth.  “I don’t know.  I don’t even know how I’m doing it or if I am.  But...the mirror, Isolde.  I didn’t do that.  I’m not doing this now.  Um...can you, you know, do something to check?  I have a little mole.”<br/><br/>“Like a pet?” Isi blinked, felt stupid, “No, a mole, right. Ah, sorry.” She winced, “Where?”<br/><br/>“It’s going to go away now.  The dark.”  As she spoke and let go of it in her mind, it just vanished.  Like it had never been there.  Helen sat up and there was a slithering, snappy sound.  Like springy cloth.  “Just...here.”  She took Isolde’s hand and folded the fingers so only one stood out.  In the dark, Helen drew Isolde’s hand that wasn’t Isolde’s hand to her tummy, then down lower.  And lower still.  There was a hint of softness, of a little plumpness, and Helen put Isolde’s finger on a small but noticeable mole.  “Don’t move,” she begged.  “But..do you feel it?”<br/><br/>“Yeah.” Isi said carefully. “Where is that? I... If I am going to go looking for it...” She could hear the blush in her voice, her whole body, if it was her body, was alive and tingling, her core was throbbing all of a sudden. Hard.<br/><br/>“It’s...there.  You know?  Down in where I wear my panties.  Left side.  Not all the way down but close.”  Helen flushed and her breasts, naked in the dark, felt inexplicably hot and tight.<br/><br/>Leaving that hand where it was Isi took her other hand back and slid it downwards. Her trousers were just hanging off of her, panties too, well, not panties, she was wearing boys boxer briefs again today. Her body felt a lot smaller, more muscled, and... Isi gasped. There was a mole. “I... I have a mole.” The hand reached up and felt for Helen’s hand, found it drew it towards her, guided it down, gasping again as she felt the fingers brush her skin. “There.” She was hardly breathing, the pulsing in her core was so strong, so urgent, so insistent. In the dark apparently you could be very brave.<br/><br/>“I know,” Helen said, and felt skin that was so familiar.  It was weird.  It was hers, she could feel it, but the sensation was missing from the other side.  It was... it just wasn’t...  If she touched lower, touched herself - Isolde - would it be masturbation?  No!  There was another person under her hand, even if it was her.  Well, not her but her.<br/><br/>Her hand was in Helen’s panties, Helen’s hand in hers. Isi wanted, needed, to guide the hand more, was willing her hand to do it, to direct the fingers just a little, so close.<br/><br/>The finger on Helen’s mole twitched at the thought even as her breath caught as a wave of need and want and desire shot out from her core and burst all over her.<br/><br/>Helen withdrew her hand.  It snagged momentarily on Isolde’s shorts, but she wiggled it out.  The motion almost did her in.  Isolde’s hand was still on her body, cupping her mons almost, and it slid along her skin.  Helen froze, thighs quivering.<br/><br/>Isi didn’t move her hand, was conscious of not doing it. Of how close she was to doing something... So powerful. Not wrong, not right, just... Amazing. She knew full well she should move the hand, move her finger. Another twitch, another very slight jump of the tip of her finger. She knew she should, but her hand didn’t want to.<br/><br/>Her breath caught. “Helen. I...” Isi started, then couldn’t continue.<br/><br/>“I know.  Just, hold still.”  No soldier ever disarmed a mine as carefully as Helen took hold of Isolde’s now small hand and guided it out of her panties and the clingy leotard.  She didn’t let go of it though, but laced their fingers together then squeezed them tightly.  “Are you okay?”<br/><br/>Breathless and shaking just a little Isolde nodded, winced at herself, Helen couldn’t see her, “Kinda.” She confessed. “I...”<em>Didn’t want to pull my hand out.</em>“Worried.”<em>And really incredibly turned on...</em><br/><br/>“Me too.  Me.  Too,” Helen said and then fell silent.  After a moment she wiggled and there was the sound of her clothing being put back on.  A little snap of straps on flesh.  “You know when I said in History that James wasn’t my boyfriend?  Well, I mean, he isn’t.  And I’ve never had one.  A boyfriend.  I’ve never even kissed a guy.  Not even in junior high when we played spin the bottle.  I always chickened out.”<br/><br/>"I, well, sort of almost was a boyfriend once. This girl latched onto me in Alberta and was all into me and stuff and I was... Not really ready or into her, not interested. I think it was because I dress like a boy? Only, I think back and I sort of regret it a bit." Isi confessed, she seemed to be returning to normal size again, if that's what had even happened been happening. With the dark it was hard to be certain, even the mole was inconclusive."I... Think about what could have been?"<br/><br/>“What was she like?”  Helen was suddenly very interested, wondering how she compared to the girl.  “I mean, was she tall and pretty like you?  Was she as interesting and smart and just, like, knew what to do like you?”<br/><br/>"Pretty?" Isi could feel the heat of the blush, "I'm not..."<br/><br/>“You’re so pretty,” Helen said quickly.  “Isolde, you’re tall, like a model, and your hair is just wonderful.  It doesn’t stay the same color, but blends in and out of itself.  Your eyes are just gorgeous.  Have you ever looked at them?  Like, really? In a mirror?  Seen the flecks on them and the ring of grey?  It’s so pretty.  It’s...  I don’t know how to say it any different.”<br/><br/>"I am a mess. And I have no chest. Just mosquito bites." Isi countered, "You are cute and petite and you have lovely long hair and brilliant blue eyes and the cutest freckles and a nose I am jealous of." Isi swallowed, "I didn't..." She could be brave in the dark right? "I didn't want my hand back." The instant she had said it the moment the words were out of her mouth and in the air, it felt terrifying and wrong and Isi's heart nearly leapt bodily out of her chest.<br/><br/>Isolde thought she was pretty.  Thought she didn’t just look like someone’s little sister!  That her freckles weren’t something to be covered up with concealer.  And she wanted to, well...  In the dark, Heather flushed deeply, skin feeling hot but no one could see it.  She rolled onto her side, and now this time Isolde was the right length, felt like someone else.  Heather rested her head on Isolde’s breast and wrapped her arm around to hold Isolde’s opposite hand.  Her leg also came up and rested atop Isolde’s.  “It was scary, Isolde.  But not scary like...  Not like that.  You don’t think we’re doing something wrong, do you?  Anything we’re going to get in trouble for?”<br/><br/>“I eat trouble for breakfast.” Isolde shrugged just a little, “I don’t care.” She smiled, she didn’t, if it was trouble or wrong, then it was she would deal with that when it came up. “I...” An arm snaked around Helen’s shoulders, held her, “Like it here. Right here. This isn’t wrong. This isn’t trouble. And if other people try to create wrong and trouble that’s their problem.”<br/><br/>Isolde was so complex.  Helen wondered if she even knew it.  Knew that the same girl who’d just cried about her daddy, who was so hurt by his death she couldn’t even cry where she could be seen, was the same girl who was talking like it was no big deal to be a..  a...  a lesbian.  And it was.  It was a huge deal and if anyone found out, high school would be miserable.  “I don’t want anyone to know,” she said in a very small voice.<br/><br/>‘Know what? There is nothing to know. If there were anything it would be their business.” Isi stated with a slight smile. “Anyway. What have we done? Nothing. If we want to do something, that would be our concern, not anyone else’s.”<br/><br/>“You don’t understand,” Helen said.  “Maybe your other school was different, but here everyone knows your business.  And they’re not very accepting.  At all.  They’d...”  she stopped and shrugged, the motion perceptible against Isolde.  “I mean, everyone would know.  I don’t think I could do that.”<br/><br/>“They don’t have to. If we want to, you know, be an us? We can do it on the sly if you want.” A smile, “Be all secret and quiet and unknown. Though it would be hard.” Isi took a breath held it, was she really talking about being with someone? Another girl? Not that that mattered. At all. “I... I didn’t mean for this to happen when I invited you over here. Really. This wasn’t like my plan or anything.” Isi rarely had a plan if she were to tell the absolute truth.<br/><br/>For a long time Helen didn’t respond.  She just lay there, hearing Isolde’s heart and feeling her breath on her hair.  Finally, she made a decision and took a breath to brace herself.  “You remember when I said you can say things in the dark sometimes that are hard to think about in the light?  I think this is like that.  Like, I don’t know.  If you get up and turn on the lights, will it still be the same?  Will it still feel scary and a little bad but good and wonderful and exciting, or will it just feel wrong?  I’m afraid to turn on the lights, Isolde.”<br/><br/>“I know what you mean. Only, I don’t think this will change for me. When I...” She steeled herself, took a breath, her voice very quiet, “When I had your hand and placed it on me, I wanted to move it a little further down, a little to the right.” Isi took a breath, “Needed it. I don’t know of that’s just lust or love or need or what. I just know it felt right.”<br/><br/>“I’m scared, Isolde.  It felt good.  Nice.  And it’s wrong.  I’m supposed to like boys,” she said but there weren’t any tears in the words.  Just frustration.  “Did it feel that good for you?  I mean, really?  I know it made me shivery and my, my breasts hurt.  Hurt but not bad. I don't know how to say it.  Shivery.”  Helen paused.  “Do you still need to?”<br/><br/>“I do. And its not wrong. Not everyone is into boys and girls. Some girls like girls and some boys like boys and that’s normal. It happens in all mammals and anyone who says it unnatural or against god or anything else is so full of shit its spilling out of their face hole.” Isi shook her head, “And it did feel good.” She added more quietly, having been louder and more animated in the denouncing of bigots. “Tingly and achey and I think I lack the language. I think, I should...”<br/><br/>Isi leaned in and used a hand to locate Helen’s face, then her lips. The kiss followed. A simple thing, just dry lips meeting dry lips. The hand remained by the lips moved back just a little. “Was that wrong? Did it feel wrong?”<br/><br/>"No. Yes. I don't know."  Helen's tone was plaintive, confused. "It...  So much has happened today and I just want to cry about it. I can't believe I was so stupid."  Helen rolled her head slightly, shrugging until the hand on her face slipped around to rest across the back of her shoulders.<br/><br/>"Don't be mad," she said. "Please don't be mad, Isolde."<br/><br/>“No.” Isi shook her head, “No at all. What... What’s wrong? Its me right?” She sounded just very slightly broken by the idea.<br/><br/>“No!”  Helen squeezed Isolde’s hand hard.  “No, it’s not you at all.  It’s me, Isolde.  It’s all my fault.”<br/><br/>“Your fault for what? What is your fault?” Isi’s voice read concern and caring, “What did you do?”<br/><br/>“Nothing happened!”  The sound, the vehement denial was unexpected.  Helen let go of Isolde’s hand and rolled to the far side of the bed.<br/><br/>Isi blinked, something happened. Yet she wasn’t sure if Helen was talking about them anymore or something else, “What was it? What didn’t happen?” Isi asked slowly, carefully.<br/><br/>“I said nothing happened!”  The bed moved a bit as Helen stood up.  “Why do you keep asking me about it?”  Helen’s feet padded across the floor, oddly confident for as dark as it was in the room.  She was headed towards the sofa.<br/><br/>Isi winced at herself. “Okay.” She nodded, “Sorry.” She sounded genuinely contrite, if a little hurt.<br/><br/>Cushions rustled as Heather sat in them and curled up in the corner, legs under her in a neat, defensive little package.  “Don’t ask me about it again.  Okay?  Please?  Not even in the dark.”<br/><br/>Isi wasn’t sure exactly what was going on here, but she had her suspicions. “Okay. Sorry.” She gnawed on her lip for a moment, “If you want though, you can tell me anything. I am a good listener. Especially in the dark.”<br/><br/>Helen knew Isolde was right.  And that she could trust her.  She wasn’t sure why she knew that, or why the kiss had felt right or anything.  And that hurt.  Because she could trust Isolde, but she couldn’t tell her.  They weren’t the same thing.  Not at all.  And now Isolde was worried and that wasn’t right.  She’d already been through enough with her dad dying.<br/><br/>“Isolde?  You know this isn’t because of you, right?”<br/><br/>“I suspect it might not be.” Isi sighed through her nose, “I hope its not what I think it might be, because if it is...” She couldn’t continue, her throat closed up against the words.<br/><br/>“We’re not talking about it,” Helen said.  “Not now.  Not ever.  Nothing happened.”  The more she said it, the truer it was becoming.  Nothing had happened.  That way, she didn’t have to feel bad about it.<br/><br/>“It’s not about you,” she insisted.  “You’re...nice.”<br/><br/>“I’m kinda broken.” Isi admitted, “I try to be nice, but in my head I’m a bitch. I...” She was quiet for a moment, “Helen, I won’t force you to do anything or tell me anything you don’t want to. To be anything or anyone you don’t want to be. No matter what else happens or what goes on between us.”<br/><br/>