If it had to happen, I am glad that it happened with Cort instead of Hando. That doesn't sound right, does it? Why wouldn't I want my chosen mate with me during one of the most embarrassing, depressing, frustrating moments in my life to offer me support?

Because Hando is dealing with his own past these days. That is actually where it all started for me. Being with him, being supportive of him during his sessions with the shrink - ripped the fabric of a shroud that I'd kept parts of me entombed successfully. He was as delicate emotionally as a snake who had newly shed its skin. He would have done everything he could to comfort me, to listen, but would have felt helpless. It's not a position that I cared to place him in at this juncture in his healing.

The more I listened to him during his talks with the doctor, the louder the voice grew. I ignored it for a great while. You see, there are many voices tinkering around in my noodle. I don't want you to think I've gone all Nash - I am far from being a genius! My familiar voices are those of right and wrong, logic and ignorance. This new voice was a scared, lost little girl. Where did she come from? Why was she here?

Eventually she began taking over my world. As she grew louder, I lost my concentration on even the simplest tasks. My relationship with Hando suffered. I ran hot then cold trying to fight her for control of my rationality. My friendships were impacted by my ever growing sensitivity, bordering on the neurotic. I had managed to mask my problem from Max, who kept me busy playing Mistress. Dino - well, he was easy. He didn't know me before. I distracted him with some good ol' southern hospitality before sending him home swiftly.

Hando - my beautiful dark lord. I have made him mental. I might as well have hired a skywriter to tell him: "Go to Bou - I am damaged goods." I know he had been spending quite a bit of time with her. I knew about the IMs. I knew about the convos. I'm not stupid. I was watching it happen and was seemingly helpless to stop it.

Cort - the pour soul that I fell to pieces in front of. We were joking around, catching up on gossip while doing shots of Tequila in my kitchen. Up until then, the application of alcohol had quieted that voice plaguing my sanity. That evening, she was increasingly loud and prevalent. I couldn't think or hear Cort's words.

"No MORE, please go away!" I clutched my head, and began crying. 

"Tina! What is wrong?" His voice was like an echo in the recesses. 

"Cort, please make her go away..." I sobbed. 

He collected me in his arms and attempted to comfort. "Who?" 

"That girl. I don't want to talk to her. I want her to go back and stay where she was." 

"Who is she?" 

"Me." 

I'm sure he was moments away from calling the men in the white coats. 

"You?" 

Silence. 

"Don't touch me. I was a good girl today. You promised I wouldn't have to do that if I was good! You promised!" the voice screamed, through me. 

Cort retreated a couple of feet away, trying to calm me. I remember seeing the hurt and bewilderment in his face. He was hurting for me, realizing that I could be remembering some things from my past that were painful.

"Tina. It's Cort. I'm not going to hurt you. Take my hand." 

"Cort? Why are you here?" 

"To help you." 

"Why?"

"Because I want you to feel better." 

He began steps to take control of the situation. 

"Tina, when you are a good girl, what is it that you don't have to do?" 

Withdrawal - hiding face. 

"You don't have to tell me, sweetheart - but I want to help...and I promise I won't hurt you." 

"Lick it." 

"What?" 

"I don't have to lick it if I'm good." I was pointing to his crotch. 

"Jesus Christ." I began crying again, feeling like I was losing his respect. 

Losing my mind. 

"You don't have to do that anymore, sweet heart. No one is going to make you do that." 

"No, momma - don't go...take me with you!" 

"Where is momma going?" 

"She is staying with Memaw while she has surgery." 

"Who will you stay with while she is gone?" 

"Dad." 

"Will anything happen?" 

"Only if I'm bad." 

Silence. 

"No. Stop it. I don't want to." 

"Who is it? Your dad?" 

"No. It's my brother. He's touching me and I don't want him to." 

"Tina. How old are you? Can you tell me that?" 

"Six." 

He grimaced. "Can you take my hand? I won't hurt you." 

I shook my head no. 

"Why?" 

I shrugged. 

He scooted closer to me. "Tina, look at me. Look into my eyes. That's a girl. 

"When did she start coming around, Tina? Do you remember?" 

"Hando. Doctor's office." I cold see him working this out in his head. I had mentioned to him that the visits with Hando to the shrink had delved deep into some of the formative experiences that Hando had in his life - most of which were of a sexual nature.

"Has she ever talked to you before?" 

"Long time ago." 

"Tina, she wants you to help her. She can't do it alone. She needs you." 

"No." 

"Tina..." 

"I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to remember. Please don't ask me this, Cort." 

"Sweetheart, she won't go away unless you try." 

I shook my head back and forth and broke down. Completely. Cort took his chances and gathered me into his arms again. I tried to fight him, but the effects of the Tequila had weakened me physically. I was dead sober mentally.

He rocked me and held me tight, whispering prayers to me and for me. I could feel his pure love and it made me weep harder. I did not deserve this man. 

"Tina." Cort's deep gentle voice. "Does anyone know about this? Have you shared it with others?" 

I shook my head no. 

"Your father and your brother both took advantage of you in the worst way imaginable. You didn't do anything to cause it. It wasn't your fault. Do you understand?"

I nodded. 

"You have to make preparations to allow yourself to heal. This is eating you away from the inside. Do you understand what I'm saying? You need to talk to someone, like Hando has been. When you are ready, you must tell him. It is important that you share things like this with your partner."

Cort had shifted to his pastoral counsel mode so effortlessly I had nearly forgotten who he was. I trusted him, but he was no longer Cort, the hombre with the big pistola.

He urged me to pray with him, acknowledging that although I was no a practitioner of that particular faith, any sort of praying and meditation would help focus me towards healing.

Now, I have to stop here and explain. This wasn't a "poof", here Teener goes spilling out all her problems and "poof" there is Cort fixing it all. This was a very long night and early morning for us both. Had Cort not been there, I would have simply drunk myself into oblivion, and awoke wondering why I felt the need to get so tanked. I had been living this multi-level life for a while, I realized. Maybe people were allowed the odd stares I had been given in the store, at the bank, the drive thru as I talked to...my other self.

I used to pity those who had endured sexual abuse, all the while I was in denial. My father had passed when I was in college. I can still remember my mother berating me for not putting on a better display of bereavement in the weeks that followed. My brother? He is living in Northern Mississippi in a rather snooty town, with his snooty wife, and their snooty life. The last time I saw him, I could tell that I was something he wished to erase from his memory, a slutty little mar on his conscience.

At first, I didn't know whether to thank Cort or to curse him for assisting me over this hurdle. Perhaps I would have rather continued to pound my head on the barrier, than remember. Maybe I didn't want to relive the path that had made me what I am today - a person who doesn't understand tender love between two people. Someone who has been taught that sex is the way to display affection to someone. It's a miracle that I haven't contracted an STD or become pregnant...maybe I can't have children. It's just as well. I wouldn't know how to raise them, given my twisted upbringing.

Cort poohed my concerns saying that I'd be a better mother than most because of my hardship. 

I began asking him very blunt questions about relationships - sexual relationships between men and women. I wanted to know what was considered normal. Of course, some of my queries must have made him uneasy as he stumbled over his responses. I suppose my bisexual traipses and other experimentation were not the norm in the padre's day.

We napped in the great room well into early afternoon. I awoke to silence. No voices. It was deafening and lonely. I left Cort asleep on the sofa opposite mine and went for a walk. The birds were so loud. I don't ever remember their song being that omnipresent.

Before long I had walked two blocks away from my house and was approaching the gravel road along the cotton fields. How I loved this time of the morning. Everything glistening with dew - cleansed of yesterday's dust. The distant sounds of the farm equipment - harvesting one crop, planting another. The almost white-noise echo of Interstate 55 to my right. The birds in the woods past the field. Ignorant to my plight. Cheerfully singing their herald of the new day.

The clarity of sight and sound was not unlike the difference between a DVD and a 

VHS tape. 

A new day. 

New beginning? 

I continued along the road, realizing I was barefoot only after I cut my right foot on a shard of broken beer bottle. As I sat in the dirt and picked the glass from my skin, my thoughts sent me back to another time. Beer bottles...cotton field. They went hand in hand in places like this. Nothing much for the teenagers to do but find a place to build a bonfire and get beered up.

Typically, fields such as these were prime real estate for this activity. At the gathering, the two sexes would drift apart like oil and water. The boys would brag about their latest hunting expedition or the height of their 4 x 4 trucks to one another. The girls would be gossiping and stalking their next prey, boasting about who had the biggest dick and what she let them do with it. As the night wore on, they would mingle together and retreat - couple by couple. Off to find that Holy Grail. Off to "do it" and be recognized as one of the "cool" crowd. I remembered it all too well. Oddly enough, I chose to live in this town because it reminded me of the one I grew up in - the very one I hastily left upon high school graduation. I've never been back. Why should I? I live in a carbon copy of it now.

Many a teenage Saturday night had I spent in the cab of a pick up truck, bent over the lap of my flavor of the week, sucking his dick for all I was worth. Using it as an offering to the gods to keep the recollections of my own sexual abuse at bay? Must have. Seems logical. Never mind the hours spent on my back in the bed of aforementioned pick-up trucks. Somewhere between the star quarterback and the president of the FHA club, I began associating this act with my twisted notion of love. I was constantly on the search for someone who could fuck me hard and make me forget. These are teenage boys - what was I thinking? Give them a peek of your snatch and they nearly come in their Levis right then. I was ruined already. Couldn't even enjoy that.

Memories of my adolescence washed over me as I inhaled the smell of the dirt - the crops - the rising humidity. I sifted through the scenes and feelings in my head. Cort had given me plenty to chew on. He was most candid in the answers he gave to my probing questions about intimate relationships. Had we been operating on any other level, we would have found ourselves rolling on the floor - him muttering Spanish sweet-nothings, me praying that I didn't pass out from the tingling warm fuzzies he is so adept at planting. No - not this time. We were in Shepherd/Sheep mode. Big Brother, little sister. When I plied him with more queries about love between a woman and a man, I could see in his far-away look and grin that he thought of Isobel. What incredible feelings they share together. To me, that is what love should be...

A wave of paranoid heat rolled through me instantly as I pictured what could have happened, had Cort not been with me last night. More lost time, I'm sure. It had been happening so much lately; I had become concerned with what it was I was doing during that time. Why was it happening? What if Cort hadn't been there to talk me through it? What if I went out and did something...bad? What if I hurt those that are close to me? I shuddered, suddenly very scared and lost.

Would Hando understand? He's called me a crazy little bint from time to time - 

I'll bet he didn't know how on the money he was. I haven't been entirely fair to Hando these past few months. Why do I feel the need to give him a hard time? Is it true, what Cort says? Am I scared to have him get too close? To see my heart?

So many questions. My head was spinning. I decided to concentrate on what I had just learned about myself. To assimilate it. To pick it apart until I drove myself mad. Whoops. Already there, baby. Didn't pass Go, didn't collect my fucking 200 bucks.

How did I go from feeling normal to completely disjointed? Not too long ago, everything had a particular place in my noodle. All memories, thoughts, feelings cataloged and filed. The Dewey Decimal system. My high school librarian would have been so proud. What fault in my soul prefaced the earthquake? Why did all of this lie dormant for years, like cancer - and then rear its ugly head? Why now? Fuck.

I was getting angrier by the moment. All this time, a storm had been building up inside. I spent restless nights wondering what my problem was. Was it Hando? Was it the Game? Slowly I had begun losing my confidence and feeling of self worth. I couldn't remember the simplest little things.

"You got what you wanted, I'm listening. A postcard or a phone call would have been a little more effective, don't you think?" I said out loud to myself. I waited.

"You know this isn't my farm field. You aren't gonna tell me to build it and he will come, right? I can't plow under this dude's crop. Besides, the coming has never been an issue - I got that task down pat..." giggling to myself.

The earliest recollection I have is from when I was six. My stepbrother would baby-sit me and do his thing. It never was more than some fingering and petting. My step-dad didn't start until much later. I was a pre-teenager the first time it happened. I don't think that the two of them knew of the other's activities.

Had dear old step-dad not started his nightly assaults, I would have probably been okay. I remember being so disappointed. So let down. Every time he looked at me- when we were in the company of others, I knew what he saw - his little plaything. His prepubescent piece of ass. Quick access. I hated him. I hated everyone like him. I was glad to see him put in the ground.

Gee, thanks dad - for giving me the tutelage. It sure has come in handy. Now I'm a fucked up 32-year-old woman who can't have a relationship unless it's based solely on sex. I gauge how much someone loves me by how they fuck me. It is just as detached as it is when I'm playing Mistress. You've taken something sacred between two people and turned it into a dirty little stain in my memory. Oxy clean won't touch this. No sir.

So, Queen Slutwhore of the Benevolent Trailer Park Trash has realized how she came to be. What do I need to do now? Suck 12 dicks and fast for a week? 

Sacrifice myself on the altar of morality? Dammit! Where is the voice now? The rage was ramping up. My heart was skipping beats as I trembled. "DAMMIT! SPEAK

UP! WHAT DO YOU WANT?" I screamed - my face upturned to the voyeuristic blue sky. My fingers were wrapped so tightly into a fist, I was puncturing my palms with my fingernails.

Arms of shelter surrounded my body and fell with me as I dropped to my knees. 

"It's alright, darlin. I'm here. Not goin' anywhere." I cried and cried until I was doing that insane dry heave that one does when they are truly upset. He felt so good. Did you understand that? He felt good. In a purely platonic, beautiful display of concern. He could have told me in that instant that it was the end of the world and I would have been content with it as long as he held me. I felt locks of his hair on my forehead and cheek. He began humming a vaguely familiar tune as he rocked me.

"Will I ever be the same, Cort?" 

He pulled my chin towards his face so that he could speak to me with his eyes, as well as his mouth. "Darlin', we are all in a constant state of change. You must be strong. You must use this to your advantage. Take control of you." He pointed at me for emphasis and began wiping tears from my face. "Find the things you want from life and go after them. Be the person you want to be, not what everyone expects of you. Don't let this define you, Tina - you have too many good things in your corner - so much to live and enjoy."

"Is that the spiel you give all the damsels in distress, Padre?" I smirked at him, trying to lighten his rigidly serious features. 

"Grrrr -" he grabbed my nose and squeezed "Think you are cute, huh?" Cort began tickling me and a short scene of rolling in the dirt, with me screaming, ensued.

"Mer...mer...mercy! Mercy Father...please - no more!" I was laughing so hard, I thought I would hurl. Cort hugged me tightly.

"I'll always be there when you need me, Tina. I'll help you through this. Do you trust me?" Shaking me gently, turning the conversation back staid. 

"Yes." My voice a mere squeak to the power and conviction of his voice. I nodded. My eyes as wide as saucers. 

He gathered a breath as if to speak, but instead, his eyes lowered to my lips. His thumb caressed their length. Cort's gaze met mine. What I saw took my breath from me. Eternal sincerity. Complete understanding. I saw a man who had feelings for me. Me. Not what I could be to him in bed. This man was my friend. My sometimes lover. My confessor. He was the one person who could guide me through this sandstorm. He would make sure Hando and I had a fighting chance, I was sure of it.

I held my breath as Cort lowered his face to mine. Blessing me with a chaste kiss. Sealing the promises he made to me. 

A shiver rolled through me, foreshadowing the mountain I was about to climb... 

There were still three days left in Cort's visit. I begged him to return home to Isobel, since nothing had gone as planned since his arrival. I had been looking forward to the promised target practice. Lessons from the master, indeed. Bud was the first to ever teach me how to shoot a gun, but the Padre was to teach me finesse. There is something about taking aim and pulling the trigger...milliseconds before the firing pin kisses the bullet. Was it power? I'm not sure. I just know I had enjoyed myself immensely, even if I didn't manage to hit the target - at all. (Bud, you really didn't need to laugh so hard, did you?)

No play time this trip. None. Cort was on a mission, and we all know how stubborn he is once his path is set, right? The fatigue evident on his features spoke volumes of what I had taken out of him. As much as I was thankful for his presence, I regretted what I had put him through. I can't imagine it is very easy for a man like him to hear of horrid acts committed against a sister, the very people that the brothers had an unspoken oath to love and protect above all costs.

Hando did a fair job of making himself scarce when his brothers visited me. He was leery of the attitudes and the feelings towards him and preferred not to wage undue stress on me by marking his territory in their presence. He was learning. Gratefully, he did still pick opportune moments here and there to play the jealous lover. God love him.

Cort was all business when he awoke the next morning. He would not share his plans for the day with me, only that I should rest and everything would be ok. Of course, I pouted. I whined. I got angry. He wasn't buying any of it. I piled up on my favorite sofa and looked for a good movie, unsuccessfully. Dominic arrived and Cort took him aside, whispering instructions to him. Dominic nodded and told him that he had everything under control. Before departing, Cort kissed my forehead and drew me to him for a hug. "Behave. Don't give Dom a hard time," he begged. Pulling away, I took note of the concern and sadness in his eyes. He knew I was trying very hard to be brave.

I did manage to pry bits of information out of Dominic. Cort had gone to meet Hando at the shop to "discuss something important". Cort had told him I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to leave me alone. I was surprised that he had agreed to watch over me. Our relationship had been somewhat uneasy since he moved in with Hando. I wondered if Hando had said something about me that scared him... He would do that - just to see how far he could push a person.

Dominic and I had watched two episodes of Monster Garage and a half of an episode of American Chopper by the time Cort returned. Dominic had relaxed and found it easier to converse with me, when the subject was motorcycles or hot rods. For a few moments, I had forgotten my troubles, my unsure future, my pain.

Cort broke the spell when he entered the front door. He quietly asked Dom to leave and then trained his solemn eyes on me. 

"Tina, get showered and dressed, darlin'. We are meeting Hando...to talk." His gentle voice caused tears to temporarily blur my vision.

"N-Now? Cort, I'm not ready. Give me a few days, I-" I was terrified! How could 

I look Hando in the eyes? My heart began pounding and my breath was getting short. Is this what it felt like to hyperventilate? I couldn't breathe. The room began to spin.

"Tina? Tina...hey...look at me. He crouched before me as I sat on the couch.

Gathering my hands in his, he kissed my knuckles and asked me to calm down. 

"Hando and I had a long discussion today. I told him nothing specific about what has transpired, but he is prepared to listen to you with an open mind and to be the man you need him to be - to get through this. He loves you, Teen. Love like this is not something you shirk and toss away. Trust him. Trust me."

I took a deep breath, pulled my hands from his and left the room. There was no use in arguing. Nothing I could say would move him from this. I drew a bath - scalding hot - and sacrificed myself in it. Hoping to wash the shame away. I tucked my knees up to my chin and cried - for the lost little girl, for the beautiful act of love denied me, for the years of lying to myself. I stayed in that position until the water turned cold enough to make my teeth chatter. Cort tapped on the door, not entering - although it wasn't locked.

"I'll be there in a moment, Cort. Give me 5 more minutes." I pleaded. 

I'm not sure why, but Cort chose a local park for this meeting. When we arrived, Hando was already there - perched on a picnic table at the far side of the lake. Cort walked with me until we were a few yards away. He abruptly stopped and asked, "Do you want to talk to him alone?" Not "Do you want me to come with you?" or anything. It sounded more like a firm suggestion than a question. I dropped his hand - the one that I had been giving the death grip from hell. My feet carried me forward even though I don't remember commanding them to. Hando heard me approach and quickly jumped off the table. He stood there, hands at his side - expressionless.

Every step was agony. I felt like the virgin on her way to sacrifice. His words and expressions would be the sword slicing my veins, draining my life force. Something odd happened the closer I drew to Hando. There was a warm peaceful vibe. I closed the gap quickly and dove into his now open arms with all my being. He returned the clutch, fierce...possessive. Beautiful. I could feel his heart pounding through his HDC work shirt. My dark lord. I let the peace and calm seep into my pores. His cheek gently rested on my head. I could have stayed with him in that spot forever. I knew now that my fears were entirely misplaced. He would protect me - even from myself.

Easing me into a sitting position at the picnic table, he sat beside me and waited. Everything in his manner said, 'I'm here for you. I want to help. You can trust me.'

"Hando...Andrew..." He took my hands in his and tilted his head to the side. I took a deep breath and started again. Looking in his eyes for more reassurance, "I've learned...remembered some things about myself, H. I don't know where to begin. Please know that I would understand if this changes things between us. If you decide you want to leave, I promise not to make a scene or..."

Shaking his head, "Baby, you haven't learned anything about me, have you? I tried to leave you before and you see what happened? Here I am! Tell me what you remembered. Go slow if you need to."

"When I was a little girl, my brother..." 

I told him the whole story. Every little detail. In retrospect, I probably should have left the explicit descriptions out, but once I started spilling, I couldn't dam it up.

Hando grabbed my waist, pulling me into his lap. I was sobbing, quite soundly, and almost didn't notice his body rippling with emotion as well. He was crying for me. When we were spent and allowed the moment to settle within us, he picked me up and placed me on the picnic table. My legs were dangling off the side and he leaned towards me, placing both palms on either side of my thighs. The stance demanded that I give him my undivided attention. He delicately kissed my forehead, looked upwards to draw in courage, fixed his gaze on mine, and spoke.

"Tina, I am just a simple man - with a violent history - who is trying to build a life. But I am nothing without you. The shop, this Game, isn't worth a thing without the knowledge that you are here." He cleared his throat. "You know how bad I am at telling you how I feel - here." He placed his fist over his heart. I love you - for all time. You've been there for me through everything - even after I hurt you. A tear slipped from his eye. You've seen past my shaved head and tattoos. You've chosen to see me. How could I ever give you up? How could I stand to exist without you? We will get through this, whatever it takes. If our lifestyle has to change, so be it. Nothing matters but you, baby. Nothing."

I couldn't reply. In all my time with this man he had not once spoken such heart-felt words. I would not destroy their beauty by adding my own inane comments.

"Damn the rules of this Game, I will marry you somehow, in my own way..." 

"You don't mean that, H...they are there for a purpose, they keep us sa..." 

"I will make you mine, somehow - the matter isn't open for discussion." He embraced me once more. 

This ordeal was far from over, I knew. I wasn't off the hook yet. I'm sure I'd be telling this story hundreds of times to some shrink, compliments of Cort. No, it wasn't enough to simply remember. There was a healing process involved. Even as I sat in the safest place on earth - in Hando's arms - I found myself quite lost. I lost the one person I've always counted on. Me. I shivered, and Hando hugged me tighter, if that was possible. What if I could no longer be the person that Hando needs? Where was my place in the game? Who was I to my sisters?

Cort had left Hando and I at the park. Thank the heavens for that man. How could 

I repay him for what he's given me? So many things could have gone wrong. I shudder to think what I was capable of, when I lost time. 

H and I decided to take a stroll around the lake before returning home. He shared news of the shop and the Grand Opening he was planning. I was looking forward to helping him...would get my mind off some things. As he was talking, I zoned out and took in this incredible man walking with me - holding my hand. Once just an object of sexual adventure to me - look at what he'd become while I wasn't looking. Magnificent protector. Tender in his silence. I couldn't imagine myself without him. How in the hell did I get wrapped up in a man? A MAN for crissakes! Miss "men are only good for one thing". Let's face it. I need this one. I can't get through the coming weeks without him.