Trust her?  Of course I didn’t trust her.  Did I?  Well, around those days, it was a bit of a confliction in me.  I did trust her, in some ways.  In others, I didn’t.  I trusted that she really did want to keep me safe and take care of me.  That was pretty obvious by how well she’d been taking care of me.  What I didn’t trust was telling her why I was crying.  There was no way I could tell her I was crying because I was taken from my previous life.  There was no way I could tell her that it was her fault I was crying and that I wanted to leave.  Sure, I wanted to tell her, but I knew better.  

I had to think of something, and fast, because I knew where this was headed.  As I was being held and I wasn’t answering her, I could feel her insecure side starting to show itself again.  She asked if I trusted her and it was just slight, but I could feel the grip around my chest tighten a little as she was clearly thinking about things.  I knew that I needed to think of something to tell her.  Something that wasn’t entirely the truth, and not entirely a lie, either.  Something that would satisfy her and wouldn’t lead in her getting upset with me.

“Why won’t you tell me, little one?  Why?”

Things were starting to get more serious now to show just how unstable this woman was.  Her fingers continued to tighten.  Tighten.  Constrict.  Squeeze.  It was more than slight now, and was starting to go towards “Hurting” status.  This had to end then.  I had to say something.  Otherwise, things were about to go from bad to worse and much faster than I would like.  So I just blurted out.  “I…I’m just tired and I yawned.  I’m fine.  I promise!” 

Tired?  Really?  That was the best I could think of?  Who would believe something like that?  Apparently, she did.  She looked me over for a few moments as she took in what I blurted out.  Surely, I was still dead meat.  She wouldn’t have believed that.  But, after a few moments, her grip tightened and she began to wipe my face with one of her fingers.  She offered a smile to me as she worked on my face and it was gentle and lacking any insecurity.

She didn’t say anything in response to what I said, which I found a little odd.  She just wiped my face off, put her phone on the desk, and began to walk out of the room, carrying me in the process.  It wasn’t exactly a comfortable situation for me.  Not only had I seen how quickly things could get bad for me, making me remember how dangerous of a situation this was.  But it also left me constantly worrying about whether or not she actually believed my excuse.  If she knew I was lying to her, what would she do?  The lack of her talking to me just made my mind go crazy.  Thankfully, it took my mind off the crying and made it look like it may have just been a yawning tear after all. 

She took me into the bathroom and started drawing a bath.  I was sitting on the sink as she did it, keeping the silence up that she’d been going through up to that point.  I didn’t like that at all.  The water drew for what felt like forever with the waterfall-like splashing hitting my ears and shaking my eardrums.  Even past all of this, I knew she wasn’t talking.  Her lips didn’t move for a moment as she went back and forth between looking at the water, and smiling back at me.  It was a situation where I didn’t know what was going on and the first time she’d gotten really quiet with me since this whole ordeal began. 

Then, she began to disrobe herself.  That was a sight I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing.  My cheeks always blushed and went bright red as the clothing so easily slid off her body, revealing the silky smooth, petite body that laid beneath it.  The curves of her arms and legs.  The roundness of her breasts.  And just the overall fact that she was standing there, naked, literally towering above me and before me.  It felt wrong to be with her like this or to even see her like this.  Who was I kidding?  It didn’t feel wrong.  It WAS wrong. 

A few minutes later, I found myself taken from the sink and into the bath tub with her.  She didn’t seem too focused on actually cleaning either of us.  But she just held me in her hands and laid down in the tub.  No wash cloth.  No soap.  No bubbles.  Just, laying there.  Laying there and offering me that smile without saying a word to me at all. 

Eventually, of course, I did find out what was going on.  As she laid there, with only her chest and above sticking out of the water, she slowly lowered me down onto her body, settling me between her breasts.  As I came down, I was on my side, looking right at her left breast.  I could see every little curve.  Every little imperfection in the skin.  Every little spot that led up to her nipple.  It started giving me some very bad memories of the last time I was near her breasts.  But history didn’t repeat itself on that day. 

Her hands came down over me to hold me in place and she stroked me up and down, very slowly.  Then I found out what was really going on.  Why she had stopped everything she was doing to draw a bath.  Why she had placed me here. 

“You can rest now, my tired little one.  I won’t let you fall.  I won’t let you go anywhere.  Now let out all of your yawns and take a little nap on me.”