Authors: Sarah Ann Walker
I am HER…
Sarah Ann Walker
Copyright © 2012 Sarah Ann Walker
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by: James
I would like my son Jakkob to know that he is
, the greatest blessing I have ever received. Jakkob, you are the joy, and the love of my life, and I have nothing in this world which does not begin and end with you. You have been the most beautiful gift of love, in this life of mine.
I would like to thank my husband James Freeburg for giving me his support and patience while I wrote this intense vision of mine. Thanks also for the awesome book cover, its perfect!
Thank you to my parents, but especially to my mom Annie, who always told me I should do this. There! I finally did something you told me to do!
To my sister Brennah; I think you’re gonna love him even more.
To Paola, ‘my person’, if you will. Shy of helping me bury a body (ha ha), I know I can tell you and ask you anything without fear of judgment or repercussion. Nearly twenty-five years is a long,
time to put up with me, and it says a lot about your love, and the depth of your friendship. So thank you,
To Stephen; I want you to know that you were always a very important part of my life growing up. You were my very own
for years. And for that, I thank you, and I miss you.
Finally, I want to thank everyone else who have supported me during this new adventure of mine. Things have been a little difficult for me in the last year and a half, but there were a few people who came forward and championed me when I was lost. Thank you to those family and friends who loved me throughout. And thank you Mme.Tara for being such an awesome cheer-leader.
I hope you like it!
You’ll find out soon enough.
Part 1- Sickness
Part 2- Death
Part 3- Purgatory
Part 4- Afterlife
This is dedicated to those of you who I love. You know who you are because I tell you and show you enough (I hope.)
And to Jakkob.
by Robert Browning
The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me--she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
Taking that as my
, Marcus pulls my pajama bottoms lower, pushes me to my back and strips my bottoms off completely. And gripping my breast rather hard, he moves between my legs.
Trying to push inside me, he murmurs, "Oh honey, you're so tight… I can't fit. My penis is too big." Uh huh. That's it
It's not the fact that I'm half asleep, and
dry as a bone.
"I'll get the lubricant
And reaching to the bedside table, I pull the lubricant free and try to hand it to him. When he looks at me with disgust, I huff quietly and spread the jelly on myself.
"I know you think it's gross, but without it you rip me open..."
Smiling, because of his
Marcus enters me quickly. Pushing inside, he groans loud and long.
Thank god for time. I love time and I love numbers. With time, I know how long something painful will last. With numbers, I have a finite timeframe. Therefore, I know this won’t take long and it won’t be
Starting a quick rhythm; Marcus lifts his arms to my sides and thrusts hard. I feel nothing. I know he's inside me, but I’m numb. There is no pleasure. There is nothing. I'm not even here.
Five minutes later, Marcus asks, "Are you almost there honey?"
," I smile. And closing my eyes, I begin to pant loudly, swivel my hips, arch my back, and grab his arms.
At least he asks me that now. He acts like he cares if I have an orgasm. He didn't ask or care for the first 4 years we were together. He still doesn't
care, but at least he asks me now. That's something.
"That's right, honey. Go ahead." Thump. Thrust. Thump. Oh god, my uterus
this... Lifting my hips, I scrunch up my face, stop breathing, and groan.
"Yes..." he groans in return.
And then it's done. Three more thrusts and he erupts inside me. Less than ten minutes of my life and I'm free for another couple weeks, or maybe even a month if Marcus is stressed out or busy at work.
Rising from the bed, I smile at my husband, and enter our ensuite bathroom, as he lies back down to recover from our
Showering quickly, I touch myself and feel swollen, but mostly, I feel numb and slightly bruised down there.
Marcus means well, but he has mistaken hard thumping with sexual pleasure. I wish I had time to use my shower head, but Marcus wasted
six minutes of my life, so no release for me this morning.
Thirty five minutes later I step out of the bathroom, hair dried, make-up applied, wrapped in my towel. Marcus is waiting for me, fully dressed.
"Is that what you're wearing today?" He asks, while staring at the outfit I planned still hanging on my closet door.
" Instantly, I'm filled with insecurity. What's wrong with my clothing?
"Oh, nothing. It's just you always wear black. I know you wear black to hide your big thighs and butt, but you would look good in some color too, honey." My face drops. My
big butt and thighs...?
don't be so sensitive. I don't mind your body, I'm used to it. Oh, come here..." And walking to me, Marcus tries to strip me of my towel.
Pulling away, I turn my back on him and walk toward my clothing. As if I'll ever be naked in front of him, or
for that matter.
Pouting, I say, "I'm not fat. I'm not skinny, but I'm definitely NOT fat. I'm curvy. I'm shapely. I really am..."
am I trying to convince my husband, or myself?
"You are such a prude. Lighten up, honey. It's not like I haven't seen your body naked in the last six years." Huh?
Smiling, Marcus walks over to me, kisses my forehead, and leaves the room chuckling to himself.
am NOT fat. I LIKE wearing black. I am NOT a prude.