She Implores Me To Believe

The Baba Yaga picks carefully. She implores me to believe.

"I think I have a question," she tells me, "Do you believe that I am pulling your strings, truly?"

There is no rush to answer. I can search in my own beliefs, in my own mind. And when I do I find it is far easier than I thought to source that answer, because the truth is that it's unequivocal.

"No," I say, sure of it, "I don't think you're pulling my strings. I never did. It's not about that."

"It's about the second half," she finishes for me, "The second half of your question. Are you in control or are you merely pulled and compelled by the biology of this body? Do you fall into bed with men because you choose it, or because Emily does?"

It is somehow easier to hear someone else put it into words for me, "Yeah."

"Bodies, simply put, do not work that way. And you know it.

"Biology does not determine who you are attracted to. It doesn't control you like that, it isn't capable of that. There is no hormone for heterosexuality, for homosexuality, for anything on the spectrum. There is no coding in your genome that determines your sexuality.

"If there was then we could change that with a pill, with an injection. We could stop who we are but we can no more do that than we can eliminate any part of our personality, of who we are in our heart, with medical intervention.

"That kind of outdated belief has led to too much horror for you to truly believe. It's far too dark of a path for you to stride down it simply because you don't understand-"

"But I don't understand," I interrupt, protesting, "I don't get why this is suddenly something I want to do and maybe it's that her body is different than my body. I mean I know that her body is different than mine and I know that I never would have done this before and so I can take a look at the objective reality in front of me and say that she's the difference. This body is the difference. Is it really so crazy to think that she might be the deciding factor here?"

"Yes," the Baba Yaga replies simply, "It is."

I know that's right. I know that I'm searching for something to hold on to because honestly it's preferable to the truth.

"Biology can determine a lot," she goes on, "It can determine your sex drive. How much you want and how aggressive you get when you're pursuing and enjoying it. It can even determine when and how intensely you feel it and it can certainly decide how intense the sensations are. How much you enjoy. How often. How thoroughly.

"How. Not what. Never what.

"You know that to be true. In the matters of sex, of the heart, biology has a hand in how and when, even where sometimes. But what? But why? That is never touches. That it never could.

"You make those choices. The you inside, the spirit or the soul or whatever you want to call it. You have your hand on that wheel, not your body."

"So then I chose it after all," I say, almost resigned but maybe, perhaps, a little hopeful.

"It may be hard for you to know," she nods, replying, "And it may be even harder for you to accept, but no one was controlling you. To call it a choice? That is to invoke language that I am certainly not comfortable with. You are who you are. You made the decisions you make because you would make them. You are in control of your own life.

"I do not have a hand in that. Neither does your body. It is you and it only ever was you."

"And Emily," I correct her.

"But you fail to understand," she replies, "That you were always Emily all along."

For a limited time you can join my Patreon for only $2 and get access to over a month's worth of new pages of My Second Chance as well as NINE FULL STORIES with a new one every month! Join here: https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert