I Am Life

I can’t do this. Not today, I have to stop. The pain courses through my body and the doubt starts to sink in. All I can hear is my feet against the pavement, my breathing strained as I gasp for air.

This morning’s run is harder than any I’ve had before and I don’t know why.

I turn the corner and finally see my house. I’m almost there. Pushing through the pain I get to my driveway and stop, resting my hands on my knees as I desperately try to catch my breath.

“Good time today?” I glance up and see my neighbor Troy bringing his trash can to the corner. I tense up and my mind goes blank. Every morning we seem to run into each other either when I’m leaving on my run or coming back. He’s only a few years older than I am and yet has his own house. He moved in not too long ago. Our neighbors abruptly vacated due to the pandemic, so I’m sure he got a great deal on the house. He’s still in what looks like his pajamas and gives me a friendly smile. I glance down at my watch, still ticking away.

Shit, I think and end the workout. “No,” I tell him. “Actually…one of my…worst,” I say through gasps of air.

He shrugs. “There’s always tomorrow.” He gives a friendly nod and goes back into his house. I watch him as he goes, wishing I had said more. Anything to make him see me as more than just “the girl who runs in the morning”. People like him who have their shit together don’t see people like me. I’m nobody. I can’t even find a way to get out of my parents’ house, let alone get my own. I don’t even know what he does for a living. All I know is he’s gorgeous and I’m invisible.

I walk into my house and I can hear my dad in the dining room in the midst of a meeting. The pandemic is over and yet somehow he’s still working from home. It’s like life is torturing me. My mom walks into the hallway, her eyebrows raised.

“Abby, there you are. I’ve been looking for you,” she says with her put-on serious tone.

“Mom, I go for a run every morning. This isn’t anything new. You know where I was.”

“Yes, well, your dad wants to talk to you when he’s done with his meeting. There might be an opening in his office. They need someone to work the front desk.” I roll my eyes and before I can say anything, she continues. “Don’t start a fight with him, okay? He’s only trying to help.”

“Spending my day directing UPS and FedEx drivers where to deliver packages is not my idea of work.”

“And spending your day playing video games is better?”

My body hurts too much to have this conversation so I brush past her and start heading upstairs. As I pass the dining room, my dad sees me and gestures with his hand to me.

“I’m taking a shower,” I call over my shoulder as I keep walking.

I get to my room, close the door, and collapse onto my bed. It’s going to be one of those days. But then why would I expect anything different? It’s always one of those days. My parents’ number one concern in life is what I’m going to do with mine. Since I have no idea, they’re going to impose their ideas on me. I know I need to come up with something soon. The thing is, I know my mom is right. It’s not like sitting at home playing video games is much better. It’s not like I enjoy it, but what am I going to do? After graduation I started working retail at the Gap. It was awful, but it was all I had. I trudged along day after day, putting on that fake smile and listening to people complain about the price of capris. With everything going on in the world, capris were people’s number one problem. It was awful. Once the pandemic started, they laid off everybody in the store with the promise that when things got back to normal, they’d hire us all back. I remember when I got the voicemail.

“Hi Abby, it’s Desiree from the store. We’re starting to hire people back and well, you know how much we love you. If you’re still looking for work, give me a call back and we can figure out your first day. God bless.”

I didn’t realize how much I was dreading that call until it came. I quickly pressed the trashcan icon before I could think twice about it. A few weeks later my dad brought up the store. He had seen on the news that the mall was opening back up and stores were hiring again. He asked if they were going to take me back. I lied and said I hadn’t heard from them.

“Those sons-a-bitches,” he said. “I should go over there and remind them you were their best employee!”

“No dad, please don’t,” I say, rolling my eyes. I came up with an excuse about how I’ll need them as a reference if I’m going to get another job. That seemed to work and he gave it up. I can only imagine the look on Desiree’s face when my dad walks in yelling about not hiring me back. The truth is I don’t want to work retail, but I also don’t know what I want to do instead.

What my parents really want is for me to go to college. I’m not opposed to the idea. The problem is I wasn’t the best student. Not because I was lazy, not at all. My problem was I was too smart. That’s right, I was too smart. My teachers would tell us things that were clearly not true. All the other kids would just go along with it, nod their heads like total androids and write it all down. I’m the only one that would challenge them, and they hated it. Boy did they hate it. It’s not my fault the education system hasn’t caught up to Google.

I remember one day, who even knows what grade this was anymore, our history teacher mentioned something about Columbus discovering America. My hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Abby.” You can hear the annoyance in her voice as she knows what’s coming.

“Columbus didn’t discover America,” I corrected her. “It was the Icelandic explorer Leif Erikson. He reached America long before Columbus was even born. And let’s not forget none of these people ‘discovered’ America since there were people here already. Columbus was a rapist who committed genocide-” And you get the rest. Let’s just say, I didn’t pass the quiz on that chapter. This is how all my classes went. All of them except math. I love math. There’s no interpretation, there’s no grey area. You’re either wrong or you’re right. There can be a debate about the best way to come to an answer, but there’s no debate about what the answer actually is. (Except for statistics, which is all about interpretation. I hate statistics! But that’s for another day.)

Since my grades weren’t that good, I have to go to community college to bring them up before I can go to a four year school. I have no problem doing that. It’s just…well, I don’t know. Going to college means having to make a decision about what I want to do in life. If I knew that…

When I was in high school, I thought I was going to change the world. I decided not to go directly to college after graduation. Why sign up for more indoctrination just like the last four years I had to endure? No thank you. I figured any education I needed I would find from books I chose to read. Not the ones those authoritarians running my high school prescribed. I told my parents I was taking a gap year. They weren’t happy about it, but what could they do? I didn’t tell them until after most college application deadlines had passed. I escaped college for one year. The next year the pandemic hit and I told my parents there’s no need to apply now. It’s all online and that’s all bullshit anyway. They halfheartedly agreed. However, now the pandemic is over and schools are opening up to in-person teaching again, and worst of all my parents know it. They’ve been hounding me to start applying. I don’t know why but the whole thing scares me. A while back my dad handed me an application to some school he has a connection to. I have to write a personal statement. A long answer to a short question. “Who are you?” That’s it. That’s all they asked. “Who are you?” I opened up my computer and pulled up a blank Word document. I typed “I am” and stopped. I watched the cursor blink for what felt like an hour. I had no idea what to put after that. “I am” what? “I am Abby.” Well duh, that sounds unintelligent. “I am legend and I kill vampires.” They probably wouldn’t get the joke. “I am lost?” Yes, that’ll get me into college. I closed the computer and handed the application back to my dad. I told him after reviewing the school’s credentials, it didn’t meet my standards. You can imagine how well that went.

My train of thought is broken by the sound of a knock at my door. My dad pokes his head in.

“Abby, I need to talk to you.”

“Mom told me about the job, dad. I’m not interested.”

I can see him immediately get angry. “Why not?”

“I can’t work in your office. The whole time everyone will be saying ‘oh look, there’s the girl who’s dad got her the job. She must be an idiot if she needed her dad to get her a job.’ I can’t do that.”

He takes a few more steps into the room and sits on the end of my bed. I sit up and lean back on the headboard.

“I can understand that,” he says unexpectedly. “So tell me. What jobs have you applied for already?” There it is.

I take a deep breath. “None.”

He nods. “That’s what I thought. And college? Find anything that interests you yet?” He makes no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice. All I can do is look down and take a deep breath in resignation. We both sit there not saying anything. Finally he looks up at me.

“Listen. Your mom and I have been talking. We don’t know what to do for you-”

“You don’t need to do anything dad-” I cut him off. He puts his hand up to stop me.

“It’s our fault. We’ve sheltered you for too long.”

“Oh please,” I say rolling my eyes.

“We have. If your mom and I were suddenly gone, you’d have no way of taking care of yourself. You need to learn some harsh lessons.”

I lift my head at the word “harsh”. What does that mean?

He continues. “Abby. If you don’t have a job or if you haven’t submitted a college application by the end of the month, we’re kicking you out.”

I laugh. “What do you mean ‘you’re kicking me out’?”

His face is stern. “You won’t be allowed to stay here anymore.”

“Where will I go?”

He shrugs. “That’ll be up to you. You’ll have to figure it out. We can’t continue to support you if you’re not going to make an effort.”

“You can’t kick me out,” I protest.

“You’re twenty now-”

“Nineteen, dad. I’m not twenty until next month.” I sound like such a child, I think.

“Abby, please.” He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. So much so that it scares me. He really means this. “Get yourself together. Before it’s too late.”

He stands up and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sit there, smelling of my morning run, tears starting to swell but I hold them back. I glance to my left. My laptop is sitting on the desk. I scoot across the bed to it and open my laptop. I move the cursor over the Word icon and stop.

I am…

Above it I see the icon for the most recent game I’ve been playing. A dungeon crawler that provides pure escapism. I hesitate. I know what I should do, but for some reason I can’t.

I am…

My heart starts beating faster.

“Get your shit together. Before it’s too late.”

I move the mouse up to the game and double click.

This is what I am.

 

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Last night I couldn’t face my parents. I played my game all night, only leaving when I knew they had gone to bed. I was starving and made myself some mac and cheese for dinner. Another example of how much of an adult I am. A bunch of things were spinning through my head. First anger, then I moved on to why it doesn’t make sense. Then sadness, and then finally acceptance.

I’m just a fuck up.

That’s the conclusion I come up with. I’m a total fraud. All those years I spent calling my teachers out on their BS, in the end I was the one full of it. I’ve been lying to myself all these years. I’m not a free thinker, I’m just lazy. I’m not a fighter, I’m just afraid. This is everything going through my head as I head out on my morning run. It’s slightly overcast today, rain imminent at some point. I’m so preoccupied with my thoughts that I forget to put headphones on. I’m running quiet. Who knows, maybe I’ll just keep running forever. Like Forrest Gump. I’ll run from here to California and see if anyone notices. Of all the crazy things in that movie, that’s the most outrageous. I could run the rest of my life and no one would notice.

My block ends in a dead end that leads to a hiking trail. I usually run around the cul-de-sac and turn back towards my house, but I’m so buried in my own thoughts that I run right onto the trail. Once I realize it, I decide to keep going. The longer I’m out of the house, the better. It’s been forever since I walked through these woods and I’ve never ran through them. When I was a kid I loved hiking and I’d trek this trail constantly. At some point during high school I forgot about it. I stopped hiking all together. Looking back, I don’t know why I stopped. It’s amazing how sometimes you can forget about the things that give you joy in life.

I get to a steep incline and try to run up it. I make it to the top but have to stop as my whole body is on fire. I was already a little tired before the hill. My body is telling me to take a moment. There’s a tree that looks to have a comfortable place to sit right off the trail, so I go sit down and look around the forrest. It’s beautiful out here. So quiet and calm. Living in a housing development means it’s never fully quiet. There’s always a car or a kid filling the air with noise. Now I remember why I used to hike out here. The seclusion.

Abby.

I sit up straight and look around. I swear I just heard someone say my name, but I don’t see anyone. I shake it off, clearly having just heard something that isn’t there. I close my eyes and lean back on the tree.

Abby.

I bolt up again. This time it was much clearer. Someone said my name.

“Hello?” I call out, but no response. “Who’s there?”

Not who. What.

My heart rate starts to pick up as my head jerks from side to side.

Calm yourself. No one else is here.

“Who is that?”

Listen to the sound of my voice.

I stand and wait. “It’s kinda hard to do that if you don’t speak.”

Who are you, Abby?

I hold my breath in surprise, the recognition hitting me. The voice sounds like my own, as if I’m speaking to myself. Am I going crazy?

Your mental state is perfectly fine. I am not coming from within. I am here, with you. All around you, but I am not you.

“Then…” I hesitate. It’s a clear sign that I’m crazy if I start engaging the voice inside my head. “Then who are you?”

Who are you?

“I’m Abby,” I say matter-of-factly. “Who are you?”

And who is Abby?

“This isn’t funny! Who is this?!”

I feel a sensation run across my shoulders. Almost as if there’s a finger running from one end to the other, but not quite like that. I don’t know how to describe it. I spin around only to see the tree I was sitting back on earlier.

You are lost, Abby.

“I know exactly where I am.”

I mean in life. You are lost in life.

“Yeah? Well why don’t you step onto the path and show me who you are,” I say with anger in my voice.

I am on the path and not on the path. I’m all around you. Think about it. Where is my voice coming from?

A good point. I realize the voice is coming from all directions. It’s as if I’m wearing headphones. Without thinking I reach up for my ears but remember I forgot them at home. Then I feel two hands on top of my shoulders. As if someone is standing right in front of me, but clearly no one is there.

“Are you…” I want to ask but the question sounds stupid. I can only bring myself to whisper it. “Are you a ghost?”

A laugh from the voice. And then, No. I am not a ghost. I am not a spirit. You have no words to describe what I am. Except maybe one.

“And what is that?”

I am life.

I sit and think about that for a moment. It doesn’t make any sense. But then again, none of this makes sense.

Why are you so lost? What has happened to you, Abby?

“I…I don’t know.” The question is disarming. To ask “what has happened” implies there was a time when I was not like this.

There was a time like that.

I feel a jolt through my body. A string of fear. “You know what I’m thinking?”

There is nothing hidden from me.

I don’t say anything for a long time, waiting for the voice to continue. Finally I break the silence. “What do you want?”

To help you.

“How?”

Sit on the ground.

The demand takes me off guard. A strange thing to ask. “Why?”

Do it.

A new forcefulness in the voice. I do as I’m told.

Tell me who you are.

“I…I don’t know how to answer that.”

You don’t know? Or you don’t want to?

I never thought about it before, but maybe… “Both.”

Afraid of what you will say?

I respond in a whisper. “Yes.”

Why do you run like this every morning? What are you afraid of?

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

You cannot lie to me. I know the answer. It is you who needs to hear it. Why do you run?

I think for a moment. A truth buried so deep that even I have to search for it. Something ugly. Something locked away for a reason.

“No,” I whisper.

Say it.

“I can’t.”

Suddenly the wind picks up and leaves on the ground start to move. They lift up into the air one by one until suddenly there’s a cyclone of leaves swirling around me. The sound is all encompassing. I can no longer see beyond the wall of leaves and I cannot hear anything in the forrest anymore.

It is just us. You are safe here. Say it.

“I…I hate myself. I’m ugly…on the outside and the inside…I don’t…I don’t deserve happiness.”

The cyclone abruptly stops and the leaves all come crashing to the ground. I sit there, leaning back on my hands in bewilderment. Then I feel something moving along my body. It starts at my belly button and slowly moves up to my breasts. It passes over my nipples, even though I’m wearing a sports bra, and moves to my neck, caressing me. A warm shiver runs through my body.

You deserve all the happiness in the world, Abby. How could you not?

“I’m ugly,” I say as I take a deep breath from the soothing comfort of the sensation on my body.

You are beautiful.

Whatever it is moves to my breasts and I can feel a low humming on my nipples, but I don’t understand it. They become erect and suddenly feel uncomfortable in my sports bra.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Remove your top.

Entranced, I reach down and grab both ends of my shirt and lift it over my head. I reach down again and remove my sports bra. My bare breasts hit the cool morning air, but suddenly there’s a warm feeling over them. Not a hand but just a feeling. A pressure. I feel a buzzing in my nipples and I throw my head back.

“What’s happening?” I manage to say through light moans.

You think taking care of yourself physically will make up for the neglect you’ve done to yourself mentally, but you are wrong.

A small concentrated cyclone picks up and blows a warm air across both of my nipples.

“Oh my god,” I moan. “How is this possible?”

The wind blows me flat on my back. My feet planted on the ground, my knees fall to each side, and I feel a pressure between my legs. I lift my head but still see no one there. The wind picks up again and starts blowing along my body. It’s weird, but I can tell what it wants. I use my feet to remove my shoes and then push my pants down, using my feet to do the rest, kicking them to the side. I’m now laying on the forrest floor fully naked, a cyclone blowing around me. Suddenly a concentration of warm air changes directions and blows at my exposed vagina. The air seems to touch every part of my body including my clitoris. My body tenses up. I reach out to touch myself but a gust of wind blows my arms back so that they’re on the ground. Something, I don’t understand what, holds them there.

Abby, you are the most beautiful and important woman in the world. Tell me how beautiful you are.

I shake my head. Slick with my pleasure, my warm slit expands and I feel something enter me. I look down but see nothing there. A warm gust of wind blows over me and I feel the sensation of someone fucking me. I moan out in pleasure.

Tell the world how beautiful you are.

“I’m…oh my god.”

My body is stationary. Though I can feel something thrusting in and out of me, I’m not bouncing back and forth but instead just feeling the sensation of it. I can feel what must be a hundred hands running all over my body. My breasts, my mouth, my neck, my thighs, all parts of me are ignited in the pleasure. It’s a sensation overload.

Aaabbbbbyyyyyyy, the voice whispers.

“I…am…beautiful,” I yell out in pleasure.

I yelp as I feel something lift me up and turn me over. I’m now on all fours. My back arched with a few leaves still stuck to it, my head lifting up to the tree I had been leaning on, my legs spread. My hair falls to each side of my face and I see bits of leaves stuck in it. The wind blows from under me, turns up my face and goes down my back, between both cheeks of my ass, and back up my stomach again. A cyclone of warm passionate air blowing along my body as I feel the same sensation of being penetrated again. I yell out in pleasure.

I moan. “How are you doing this?”

I now hear the voice as a whisper, as if it’s right next to my ear.

Think of what you want.

With all of my senses being assaulted at the same time, I have no control over my thoughts. In response to the voice, my mind shows me the answer. Not a conscious response, but more a reaction rooted in a truth I feel I don’t deserve. In my mind I see Troy.

He desires you.

I shake my head. “No he doesn’t.”

The force thrusting in and out of me from behind picks up and I tense my whole body as I arch my back. My nipples feel the warm air coursing over them as well as my asshole.

He does. You just need to believe in yourself. Say his name.

“Troy,” I yell.

Again.

“Troy!”

One more time.

“TROY!”

And suddenly my body explodes. A warm gush of passion floods out of my slit and I yell out in pleasure. My body jerks as the orgasm works its way through me. Every muscle I have is on fire until suddenly it’s not. The orgasm is over and I fall to the ground, weak and tired.

The voice again sounds like a whisper. Life can only help those who help themselves. Take a leap of faith and all will be yours.

Then just as strangely as it started, it all stops. The leaves stop moving, the wind is gone. The forrest returns to its silence, the only sound being me.

“Hello?” I call out. “Are you there?”

No answer.

“Hello?” I yell a little louder, but then look down at myself. I almost forgot I’m fully naked. The last thing I want is for someone to find me like this.

I brush the leaves and dirt off my body and start to dress. I would think that maybe I passed out and dreamt what just happened if it weren’t for the fact that the inside of my legs are slick with the smell of sex and have that pleasurable sore feeling of being fucked good and well. I’ve never came so hard in my life and yet what was it?

I am life, I remember it saying. Life? What the hell does that mean? When I’m finally fully dressed, I walk back down the path in the direction I came. I don’t run home but instead walk. The bewilderment I feel disorienting. When I finally get back to my house, I see Troy getting into his car.

He sees me in my running clothes, despite it being later than normal. “Good time today?” He asks as usual.

I look down at my watch and realize the workout has been ticking along this entire time. I look up and smile at him.

“Yeah, actually. It was.”

I hesitate for a moment and so does he. We both just stand there staring at each other. I’m about to say something when finally he says, “Well I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” I say disappointed. “See you later.”

He gets in his car and drives away. As I approach my front door, I’m positive my mother will confront me with another “where were you” seeing as how I’m getting back much later than I normally do. I walk through the door but only hear the TV in the living room. I walk past the dining room and see my dad in a meeting. He glances up, but when he sees me he makes no motion to say hello and just goes back to looking at his laptop. When I get to the stairs, I see the back of my mom’s head, sitting on the couch watching TV.

“I’m back,” I say.

She doesn’t respond, though I know she heard me. I’m only a couple feet away. I suddenly get the impression that maybe my dad’s threat was serious. I walk up to my room to take a shower and maybe Google “what to do when a forrest has sex with you.”

 

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I wake the next morning feeling hung over, though I had nothing to drink the night before. I couldn’t sleep. The bombardment of emotions coursing through me made it impossible to rest. There’s fear from the strangeness of what happened, pleasure for obvious reasons seeing as how I’ve never cum like I did yesterday, curiosity from wondering if it’ll happen again if I go back there, but most of all happiness. There’s something about the encounter that seems to have filled a void inside me I didn’t know existed. I know I’ve had thoughts of uselessness lately and yesterday’s experience did nothing to cure that. So why is it I feel content? What else am I battling under the surface? How can someone be such a mystery even to themselves? That’s when I remember something the…whatever it was said to me.

You are beautiful.

Just the memory of that sends a wave of warmth through my body. What did I say to cause the voice to say that?

You are beautiful.

I take a few deep breaths, soaking in this feeling of beauty. I have to see for myself. I get out of bed and stand in front of my full-length mirror. I’m still wearing my pajamas, a short pair of purple spandex shorts and a black tank top. I don’t wear a bra or panties to bed for obvious reasons (though sometimes I find men don’t understand that). Looking at myself, something seems different. My body is…the same…but not. I look into my own eyes and I can see what I feel but I can’t quite put a word to it. Is it pride? Contentment? Is this how happy people feel all the time? I lift my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. I stare at the reflection of my breasts. Not the largest someone can have but no the smallest either. Like me, my breasts are remarkably average, another way to say forgettable. And yet there’s something different about them. I always felt that way about my breasts, but now it feels like I’m just saying it. I don’t feel it. I don’t mean it.

I turn to side to see their silhouette and push my chest out. I can’t help but smile. I turn to face the mirror again and cup my hands around them. I start to massage my breasts, taking deep soothing breaths in as I do. My nipples start to become erect in response, as if asking for more. As I stare at myself, I gently caress my nipples. Not only can I feel the enjoyment coursing through me, I can see it on me as well. I suppose I’ve never seen myself be pleasured before. Why would I? How many people have? There’s something disarming about it. I give my nipples a slight pinch and feel a gush of warmth between my legs. I instinctively reach down and run my hands along my thighs, up to my hips. I cup my vagina, not touching the lips. I see the look in my reflection almost begging me to remove my shorts. I grab the sides of them and oblige, pushing the tight fabric down and flinging it away with my foot. I stand before the mirror fully naked and take my body in.

I am beautiful, I think. Why have I never seen it?

I reach down and push the folds of my lips away in search of my clit. Gently, ever so lightly, I move my finger back and forth, spreading the pleasure through my body. With my other hand, I run the tips of my fingers gently up and down my stomach, a move that for me is disarming, making me desire pleasure no matter what. I start to massage my clit a little faster, now the sound of my juices gushing along with me. My legs become weak and I fear I’m going to fall. The hand that was caressing my stomach now reaches out and braces me against the mirror. My face only centimeters from the mirror, I stare at myself eye to eye. I glance over at my bed and see what I almost forgot was there. THE pillow.

I quickly hop to the bed and grab the pillow and return to the mirror. Laying the pillow on the floor, I straddle it and place my hands on the floor in front of me. Keeping my head lifted so I can see myself, I start to thrust the pillow with my hips. The friction of the soft fabric against my wet lips sending waves of pleasure through my body. I let out a moan that is louder than anticipated. I become slightly aware of my surroundings, but not enough to stop. I’m at the point of no return. I start grinding the pillow faster, frustration trying to rock the orgasm out of me. I look back at myself in the mirror. My shoulders rise and fall with my heavy breathing, my face looking weak in its longing for release. Finally it arrives. My thighs clutch the pillow like a vice and I fall onto my side. I put my hands over my mouth in fear that I’ll be caught by my parents downstairs. My legs twitch back and I push my stomach forward as the orgasm rocks my body. I can feel the pillow become wet with my pleasure and suddenly my body releases the tension I didn’t realize was there. I finally roll onto my back and put the bottoms of my feet together, letting my knees fall to the side. The morning air hits my womanhood in a chilling way now that it’s soaked. I lay like this for a few moments, letting my muscles rest. My arms are stretched out. I must look used up and the thought gives me a slight chuckle. I feel…how do I feel? This is something new. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Ideas are running through my head, too many to keep track of. Could this be…? Am I…

Motivated.

I feel motivated. I want to do something. Anything. I feel a confidence I haven’t felt in years. It’s almost as if I can do anything. Finally I sit up and look at the time. I’m going to fix my life today.

But first I need to go on my morning run.

Yes, my run. First my run and then I fix my life. I quickly get dressed into a fresh pair of running shorts and sports bra. I put a tight fitting light blue Nike top over it. Though my confidence is high, it’s not quite at the “running in just a sports bra around my neighborhood” high. I hop down the stairs and lace up my running shoes before my parents have a chance to say anything to me. Although for all I know they’re still giving me the silent treatment. I open the door and hop outside and that’s when I see him.

Troy.

He’s about to get in his car. When he sees me, he stops and smiles.

“Late start today?” He asks.

I don’t know what it is but suddenly there’s a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Uh…hi…I mean yeah,” I stutter.

We stand there in silence and with each passing moment, I feel my confidence dissipating more and more. I want to say something to him. You’re gorgeous. I want you. Do you see me? But all that comes out is nothing. I can see that now he’s feeling a little awkward too.

“Well, good luck,” he says as he ducks into his car.

“Yeah…thanks.”

I walk to the sidewalk, giving him an awkward wave as I pass. I start the workout on my watch and begin jogging. I can’t believe that just happened. I’m such a loser. He probably felt so awkward with me just standing there stuttering at him. It’s a good thing he didn’t ask me out on a date. What would I have to say? I’m living at home, unemployed. Oh you closed a major deal today? That’s cool. I unlocked some hidden items in the fantasy game I play. So cool.

It’s amazing how we can be different people in just a matter of minutes.

I get to the cul-de-sac and I know I should circle around it and head back, but there’s a yearning in my heart for answers to what happened yesterday. I continue onto the hiking path and slow my run down to a job as I wind through the forrest. Finally I get to the place where it happened yesterday and I stop.

“Hello?” I call out hoping for a response, but there’s nothing. “Hello? Are you there?” I must look insane right now. The only answer I receive is from a bird chirping atop a neighboring tree. I glance to the ground and see the remains of where I was laying yesterday. The leaves pushed aside from that spot and an odd piling of leaves circling the spot where the cyclone dissipated. Maybe I am crazy. It was all in my head. How could I have expected something like that to be real?

It felt real though.

That’s when I feel a thrust on my stomach that pushes me back against a tree. Taken off guard, I frantically look around for who did it but find no one there. That’s when I realize it. A cyclone of wind is blowing straight at me, pinning me against the tree. It hits my stomach and fans out to the sides, keeping my arms stretched out.

With the gift you were given, what did you do? The voice again.

“Gift?” I question, trying to speak over the sound of the wind. “What gift?”

Along with the wind pinning me against the tree, I feel a second lighter wind hit me right below my chin and fan out across my shoulders. This one a more caressing feeling.

The gift of worth.

“What does that mean? Who are you?”

The wind stops and I fall to my knees. I frantically look around for something to help me stay sane.

I am life.

“What does that mean? Please!”

Abby, why do you doubt yourself?

I don’t know what to say to that. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I feel a rush of wind start from the ground and turn upwards at the bottom of my shirt. It lifts it slightly, but not enough to remove it.

“You…you want…”

Reveal who you are.

Just like yesterday, I lift my shirt over my head and remove my sports bra. The wind moves to my breasts and the warm air runs along my nipples. The first reaction I feel is between my legs.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

You are worthy.

I shake my head and a moan from the pleasure escapes my lips. “Of what?”

I will show you.

A cyclone of leaves swirl around me and for the first time, the wind actually lifts me off the ground. It moves my hips forward and my shoulders back and suddenly I’m laying on my back.

Reveal yourself.

The wind swirls around the waistband of my pants. I obey and lift my hips so I can slide them down. I kick my shoes off and remove my pants with my feet, lastly taking my socks off. I’m about to lay my legs flat on the ground but the wind pushes them back. My knees are bent, pointed up, and then are pushed to my sides. This time the force is strong. I can almost feel hands holding my legs apart. The wind picks up and blows through me, starting at my pussy and running along the top of my body, breaking apart at my chin. The flow is constant and my body tenses up from the mixture of pleasure and fear.

“I don’t understand,” I mutter through gasps of bliss.

You are worthy.

“Of what?!” I yell.

“Abby?”

I hear a new voice. Not the forrest but a person. Unable to move my body, I crane my neck up to see. To my horror, Troy is standing there, a look of complete shock on his face.

“Troy?! I…I…”

“I’m sorry, I…” He stutters. He makes a move to turn and go, but a new cyclone of leaves pushes him back.

You are worthy.

“What?” Both Troy and I say at the same time. We look at each other, both equally mystified.

“You can hear it too?” He asks me.

The wind courses over my body and I moan slightly as I say, “yes.” I take a deep breath. “I thought I was crazy.”

“So did I,” he admits.

Reveal yourself.

“What?” He asks, shocked. “What does that mean?”

“It wants you…” I try to explain. “It wants you to remove your clothes.”

Reveal yourself.

Troy lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a very defined flat stomach. I had no idea. I glance up to his face and see he’s staring at me. I try to smile but then there’s a pressure on my nipples that sends a jolt of pleasure through me so much so that I have to arch my back to let it run its course..

Reveal yourself.

I look back up and see Troy awkwardly unbuttoning his pants. He removes his shoes with his feet and slides his pants down. He leaves his boxer briefs on and looks at me. I can clearly see the bulge in his pants. Then I realize the wind isn’t blowing along his body. The only stimulation he has is…me. I look to him.

“Reveal yourself,” I whisper.

He takes a deep breath and slides his boxers down and pushes them to the side with his foot. His beautiful cock pops out, pointing directly at me. He’s fully hard. He moves to cover his cock with his hands but a new wind picks up and forces his arms to stretch out. Again I’m lifted off the ground and put into a kneeling position. Similarly Troy is also lifted and pushed into a kneeling position and we both kneel in front of each other, eye to eye, only a few inches apart. I can almost feel the warmth emitting from his cock.

Reveal yourself.

We both look confused.

“There’s nothing more to take off,” I say.

Reveal your truth to one another.

We both look at each other, not sure what to do.

Who are you?

I look into Troy’s eyes. “I…I’m Abby. I’m…There’s nothing sp-” Suddenly I can’t speak. I want to say there’s nothing special about me. I try again. “There’s nothing s…there’s nothing s…”

Only truth.

Troy looks at me with a confused look, not sure what’s happening to me. “I’m Troy,” he begins. “I’m just…a guy. I work a lot. Don’t have a lot of time for da-” Now he can’t speak and he looks at me in horror and recognition. “No time for da-” he tries again.

Only truth.

I look around us at the swirling leaves. They encircle us so fully that I can no longer see the forrest around us.

“Are you trying to say,” I begin. “Are you trying to say you don’t have time for dating?”

He nods.

Only truth.

“But that’s not really true?” I ask.

He looks down and takes a deep breath. Finally, he looks back up into my eyes and shakes his head.

“What’s the truth then?”

“I…” He’s breathing heavily but his eyes are locked on me. “I’m afraid.”

I’m taken aback. What could he possibly be afraid of when it comes to dating? He’s gorgeous.

“Of what?” I whisper.

“That I’m-” Again he’s cut off. He looks frustrated and looks around at the swirling of leaves. He lowers his head and looks at the ground as he continues. “I feel ugly.” It’s almost a whisper. A deeply buried secret.

“You?” I blurt out. “But you’re gorgeous.”

He looks up at me, searching my face for any trace of lying.

Only truth, the voice reminds us.

A small and desperate smile warms his face.

“I feel ugly,” I admit to him.

His smile turns to a frown. He looks to not understand what I’m saying.

“I…I feel useless. Lost.” I’m surprised I’m able to say these things to him, but I feel disarmed and vulnerable. “I wish…I wish I was a different person. A better person.”

We both look at each other. I realize that my arms are on his shoulders and his are on my hips. I don’t even remember when that happened. The wind and the leaves circle around us in a disorienting dance and Troy and I stare at each other in disbelief and understanding.

“But you’re perfect,” he says.