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Don't tell them fantasies unless you want them to come true.
I even found out he was doing some hard drugs, shit I would never touch. I mean, we lived with addicts, too. It wasn't a good situation, in any direction." I took a hard breath, dropping my eyes as I squeezed myself for the next part. It still hurt to remember.
"I got pregnant," I blurted out, ripping off the band-aid. "And... miscarried. It was devastating," I managed to tell them without breaking down. "It was the worst possible thing I think I could have gone through, but it helped me realize that where I was, wasn't good. I couldn't imagine having a kid with him for real, especially not in that situation. And his reaction when I was pregnant, and when I wasn't, left so much to be desired." Yeah, I was still bitter, still grieving. But it was over, and I was better off now than with him.
M grabbed my hands, his eyes wet.
"What did he do, the asshole?" M cried, shaking my hands. "What did he fucking do when you needed him most?" C put his hand on M's shoulder to calm him down. Like he had a sixth sense for the guy's hysteria.
"Well, for starters, he asked me if it was his," I groused. "Fucking asshole. Of course it was. Did I mention he was completely paranoid about me cheating on him?"
"Which might mean he was cheating on you," C rumbled behind me. I nodded.
"Yeah, I've considered that," I admitted quietly. M was furious.
"What a dickbag! How could he treat you like that?"
"What'd he do after...?" R asked in a deadly little voice.
"To him, me being pregnant was a burden, and only a burden. I could tell the absolute last thing he wanted was to have a kid. After I... lost it, he was fuckin' just fine. To him it was a huge relief. To me, it was absolutely horrible. I was in agony, and the worst thing was never getting a chance to know that baby. But I've made my peace with it as best I could, and honestly, if I'd stayed, things would probably be a lot worse."
"So you left him?" C asked, still clutching both me and M.
"Yeah," I said, somewhat stronger. "He freaked out. Even smashed my phone when I told him I was going to, but I had someone to help. She got me out, and I moved in with her for a couple years. Best thing I could've done at that point."
"Your best friend?" C asked.
"My 'M'," I whispered, nodding. "My 'sister from another mister'." C rubbed my shoulders.
"Your ex sounds like a real piece of work," R snorted. "Like the kind of guy I'd leak incriminating pictures of." I couldn't help laughing.
"Where would you find incriminating pictures of him?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.
"Fuck 'find'," R spat. "More like create and release." I couldn't help smiling, even if this method of revenge was beyond my usual MO.
"Pointless now, anyway. We don't talk anymore, and I've long since moved on. I came to understand I didn't really love him so much as what we'd created together." This dispelled their unhappiness for confusion.
"Huh?" R asked.
"He was a writer too," I told them. "I thought, very talented. We spent years building his fantasy world together, developing mythos and characters, and at some point, what I was in love with was that world, those characters, and not him. He abandoned it all, eventually, which to me is heartbreaking." A waste of the gift, I thought. But he was not me. "Besides... he wasn't a Dom. And, let's be honest, kind of selfish in bed. He never even managed to give me one orgasm."
"Not one?" M shouted, aghast. "What a monumental fuck-up!"
"Why'd you get with him in the first place?" R asked, his expression twisted in stupefied disgust. I shrugged.
"To be honest, I only became attracted when he asserted his own desire for me. He had some qualities that mimicked Dominance, at first, and not knowing that's what I needed, I fell for it. Subs can be very vulnerable to abusers, and abusers are often charming, charismatic, romantic and confident enough to win their victims over. The abusive side doesn't get revealed right away."
"She's right, you know," C uttered gravely.