He's Gone

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Thank you and I hope you're enjoying Chapter Eight of My Second Chance!

I watched the car pull away before slinging the bag onto my back and shaking my head. For better or for worse that was over now, I'd done what I'd done.

And I was willing to do more.

The touch of him on me, the humiliation of having it be him. It all tapped into some part of me that I was starting to understand and get a handle on and the odd thing about it is that I was pretty sure it was a part of me, not of Emily.

Regardless of whether we share a common history, I'm more than aware that the difference between Emily and me is about more than just our chromosomes and basic sex characteristics. Emily is a different person, she was born different and she had different expectations and different experiences as a result of it. Now that I'd lived a while in her life and walked a bit in her shoes I was pretty sure that the gender divide wasn't innate, but it wasn't insignificant either. Men and women are different, they live different lives.

With that newfound perspective came a new respect, a new consideration and contemplation, of motivation.

Why we do what we do is often just as important as what we're doing, especially to the person doing it in the first place. Our reason for taking on an action is almost never as direct as a simple conscious choice because, at least for me, the choices are almsot never actually conscious.

I don't choose to do what I do any more than I choose to be who I am. Decisions are less actions than they are conditioned responses based on some division and balance of opportunity and predisposition. And as far as I could tell, right now for me there were multiple forces at war within me and any decision I made might be the result of any one of them getting the upper hand.

Emily is still in here. She is still a part of me even if she doesn't really have any animus in my mind anymore. The choices that led me to this point are backed by so many years where she was the only one in this body and I have to remember that. I jumped in when we were already on the bus, but she packed the boxes and she chose the courses and she made the decision of where to go to school and even if those decisions were the same ones I would have made, they were still hers in some small way. She still owned them.

So I am still dealing with the reprecussions of them. Sure I might choose to wear this loose tank top today but she was the one who packed it in her boxes of clothes to take with her. Sure I might have forgotten my wallet, but she was the one who chose something small and slim and less obvious than I would have.

Most importanly if I cast my mind back to the past and the life she lived when I wasn't around, I know there are choices she made where I would have made a different one in the same position. Choices where I wouldn't have made the decision she did and yeah they were mostly minor but those add up. The more of them that exist, the further we would drift from a path that I was familiar with, one that I would be comfortable on.

So what about now? What about the fat old cabby? What about the fact that I got off with him, on the humiliation?

What about the fact that it wasn't the first time?

The shame of it was certainly a part of every time I let Blake have me. When he fucked my tits at the festival or fingered me the night before. When he pushed my limits and pushed past my guard and generally treated me exactly the way I'd expect an asshole like him to treat me, it tickled the same delight center in my brain as when I gave myself over to the cabby.

Like poking a bruise or picking a scab I liked the pain, I got a thrill from it. And I always had, even before Emily.

Even back when I was me.

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