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This story is connected to, but not a part of, the main ‘Lost & Found’ story thread, and takes place a few years before Casey finally finds Robbie.
My thanks, as always, to GrandTeton for patiently reading, editing, correcting, and not laughing hysterically at this story you see here before you. As he’s particularly meticulous in his editing, any mistakes herein are mine, introduced post-editing, and I take full responsibility for them.
As always, I caution the reader this is not the real world, it’s my world, so things happens the way I want them to, not necessarily the way they would in the real world. Any and all comments are welcome, I read them all, and try and incorporate suggestions that don’t actually involve the physically impossible, the drastically illegal, or the utterly insane.
If you want to drop me a line, I do respond to emails if you leave me an address I can respond to, please don’t send me an anonymous email then rant at me because I didn’t reply; I’m neither clairvoyant nor telepathic. If you want a reply, please at least let me know how to contact you.
All characters in this story indulging in consensual adult activities are over the age of eighteen.
Part 1: This is me
My name is Trinity, but my closest friends and family call me Trini. I was born in a smallish mid-western town, probably no different from a thousand others scattered around the Midwest, and lived there with my parents and my older brother Scott. For as long as I can remember, I had a crush on Scott. Of course, when I was a little girl, I didn’t know I had a crush on him; all I knew was that Scotty made me feel good, and safe, and always, always treated me like I was special, and I loved him deeply.
Scott is a little over three years older than I am. He’s a handsome, muscular athlete, tall and just beautiful. He was the most popular guy in school with the girls. Like me, Scott has chestnut hair and clear, pale skin, but my eyes are blue, like Mom’s, and my hair is a couple shades lighter than his, while his eyes are a fabulous grass green, like Dad’s; we get our pale skin and wavy hair from Dad; it makes me look young and girlish, but when it comes to Scott, no-one could ever make the mistake of calling that jawline and those cheekbones, and especially that corded, muscular neck girlish; he’s all man, and what a man; 6’1″ and 190 pounds of fit, healthy, hunky, muscular gorgeousness!
My earliest memories are all of Scotty, of him being there, looking after me, looking out for me, and just generally caring about me. As I grew older I discovered he couldn’t say no to me; something in him made him do anything I asked him, get me anything I wanted, play with me as long as I wanted. All through my formative years, the one constant in my life, apart from Mom and Dad, was Scotty; friends came and went, I outgrew some playmates, found new ones, but the only one who was always there, and always there for me, was Scotty.
When I was very young, mom and Dad were always there for me as well; Dad was never too tired to sit me on his lap and tell me stories, or read ‘Curious George’ or ‘The Cat in The Hat’, Mom too, but as time wore on, she stopped, and grew more and more distant with every passing day, because she had something else on her mind; mom had found a new-born interest in her church and church life.
A friend had persuaded her and Dad to attend a Revival when I was small, and that was suddenly what her life was about. While she never tried to push Scotty or me into it, she and Dad became more and more deeply involved in church life, and pushed Scotty and me further and further away. She was always so busy with her church-work that she was almost never home, never there for me, and the few times she was around, she sure didn’t want me around disturbing her Bible-Study group, or her church committee, or whatever else Pastor Bell had roped her into.
My mom’s really beautiful; she has the same color hair and same eyes as me, but she’s taller than I am, and slim and elegant; I always thought she was the most beautiful woman in town. When I was small, before her obsession with her church took over, when we went out, she’d dress-up real nice, do her make-up, and then she looked like a model straight out of Cosmo or Vogue. She laughed a lot, she told me stories, she’d let me help her make cookies and biscuits, she made Dad laugh and Scotty blush, and I adored her
Then it all changed; her new pastor was always around now, always talking, persuading, cajoling; I saw the way he looked at Mom, the way he was always touching her arm, her hand, her shoulder, nothing too inappropriate, but constant and it made me uneasy. He made Dad his ‘Pastoral Assistant’, ordering him around like he was nothing and nobody in his own house, lording it over my parents like they were his personal possessions, especially my mom. He was forever appointing her to this committee or that one, or organizing the bake-sale, or the church cleaning rota, all kartal escort kinds of things, but what it added up to was that he monopolized her time, and she had none left for us.
I used to wonder how she couldn’t see the way he looked at her; I could, and it made me feel strange, and sick inside, like he was planning to take her away; as much as I resented her for not being my mom anymore, I still loved her, and Dad; I wanted my mom and Dad back, and I hated having that man in my home, in the center of my family. He’d send Dad out on ‘pastoral missions’ around the neighborhood, basically doing his job for him, and while Dad would be out administering to the congregation, Pastor Bell would be in my home, touching Mom all the time in that creepy way, and looking at her in that even creepier way; as young as I was, it disturbed me deeply.
Scotty and I both avoided him on sight; he gave the two of us a major case of the creeps. It wasn’t hard to avoid him; he always looked at us as if he hated us worse than we hated him. Except when Mom was looking, of course; then he was just greasy and nice as pie. Mom could see through walls and know what I was doing all the way at the other end of the house, yet she couldn’t see what was standing right next to her…
I hated him, and I used to find myself wishing Scotty was big and grown-up so he could drag that creep out of my home and just beat the living shit out of him for pushing himself into my family the way he had.
Dad didn’t seem to know or care what was happening to our family; once upon a time, he’d come home from work, and after dinner he’d read to me, or give me a wild-horse ride on his knees, or play snakes and chutes, or Candyland.
After dinner he’d carry me to my room, tuck me in, check for monsters and goblins, then tell me a story, something from his childhood, or stroke my hair and softly hum a song until I fell asleep. That was my Dad, not the distant, distracted man who hardly even noticed me anymore; now he was more interested in witnessing for the Lord, and he kind of forgot about me, and Scotty too, so Scotty became my parent. He was all I had, and all my time was taken up with him, because I had no other family anymore.
Poor Scotty never complained when he had to look after me, and I loved being looked after by him; if I wanted to play ‘Emergency Room’ he’d sit patiently while I took his temperature and put bandages on him, and splints on his fingers made out of Popsicle sticks, and always took the pills I gave him. They were M & M’s and jellybeans, but he always made a face and complained about the taste, just like a real patient. When I told him he’d had the most horrible accidents, and I had to cut his arm or leg off, he’d play along, hopping with his leg held behind him, or pulling his arm inside his shirt so he really looked like he only had one arm. He even let me draw great big, horrible wounds and cuts on him so I could treat him for them.
Sure, we had disagreements sometimes, but they never seemed to last very long and it was always Scott who made up with me first; he was so sweet, and that’s probably when I first began to fall in love with him. I never knew that’s what it was; I was far too young to know; all I knew was that Scott was there for me, he would never hurt me, or let anyone hurt me. If I messed-up and Mom or Dad took after me, Scott would take the blame and accept whatever punishment they thought he should have. Mom and Dad both knew he was taking the blame for me, but he wouldn’t turn me in, so they punished him to teach me a lesson.
After a while I realized that anything I did wrong, Scott would get punished in my place; that brought me up short, and I resolved not to mess-up again, because I didn’t want my precious big brother to get punished again for what I’d done; if I did it too often, he might start to hate me, and that would have killed me.
Scotty never complained; not once did he ever act bitter or accusing or anything even close to that; he just smiled that lovely smile of his and melted my heart all over again. Even as a little girl I soon learned how much I needed to see that sweet smile, my smile, the smile for me alone.
I was so attached to him that I actually cried when Mom took me to school my first day; I spent that whole first day lost, bewildered and frightened; all I needed was Scotty, or to be at home, waiting for him all safe and comfortable, forted-up in his tree-house with my dolls, a couple of peanut-butter sandwiches, and a pair of fully-loaded Nerf guns in case the goblins tried a sneak attack while he was out of the way. Instead, I was thrown in with all these strange kids and I didn’t have my Scotty to protect me and keep me safe.
When the day was over, when I finally saw him at last, when he came to get me, I screamed for him and ran to him crying and blubbering, I was so glad to see my protector again; he’d make the bad day all better again, I was convinced küçükçekmece escort of that! He had to carry me home piggy-back, I was so afraid to let go of him in case he disappeared again.
After dinner that first school day, he took me up to my room and sat me down so he could talk to me.
“Trini, I know you had a bad day in school today, but it will get better, I promise. I need to tell you something, and I need you to promise me you’ll listen.”
He looked so serious I immediately realized something was up.
“Baby, because I can’t be near you all day, I’m gonna give you some special magic to keep you safe until I come and get you, OK?”
I was listening to all this wide-eyed; not see him all day? I already had one day without him, alone and out in the open, not safe in our tree-house, and I for sure wasn’t gonna let that happen again! Supposing the goblins attacked, or the ogre showed up? How could I fight them off if he wasn’t there to help me? I didn’t like this at all, no sir, no Scotty all day? I don’t think so!
He must have seen the look in my eye, the quiver in my lip because he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a tightly rolled little brown leather package with red threads tied tightly around it, keeping it from opening out.
“Trini, this is a real powerful magic charm I got from an old Indian medicine man; it’s to keep the giants, ogres and goblins away from you while you’re at school. When I’m not there with you, this will keep you safe, okay? Just keep it way down in the bottom of your pocket, don’t touch it, and don’t show it to anyone, and most of all, don’t tell Mom; it’s your special, secret magic, and it’ll only work for you, so you keep it safe, Trini, okay?”
He handed me the charm, and it was then I realized I was going to be alone all day, every day, with only a magic charm to keep me safe. My eyes filled, and suddenly his arms were around me and he was hugging me and making me feel safe again as I cried with fear; how was I ever going to spend every day from now on without him, surrounded by strangers, with only a little bit of magic in my pocket? I needed all his magic, not just a little bit!
Mom came to see why I was crying, but she saw Scotty was on top of it, so she left without questioning me too much, and I hated her for it; I needed my mommy, and she didn’t care I was crying. She was too busy with some church committee or whatever. Scotty finally got me calmed down, telling me that I’d soon make friends, and they’d make sure I was safe until he came and got me. When he was sure I’d stopped crying, he took me up to my room and tucked me in and read to me from my favorite book, ‘The House at Pooh Corner’.
Going through school without Scotty there was a real effort, my days were filled with learning, but always my need for him danced on the edge of my perceptions. Mom knew how much I was suffering but she just left me to stew, until one day she told me bluntly to just grow-up, Scotty was older than me and he had his own life, so just leave him be. When she said that,
I hated her so much for saying that, for trying to cut me away from my Scotty I almost fainted; it was the most heartless and cruel thing anyone had ever said or done to me; somehow I knew it was that fucking creep, Pastor Bell, who’d told her to say that to me, that he was slowly but surely taking my mom away from me.
I spent the rest of that day hiding in the tree-house, curled-up and crying for Scott, frightened that she was going to take him away from me forever, and that Pastor Bell had taken my mom away from me. My daddy was already gone; she was going to leave me alone, and no-one cared.
Scotty found me there that afternoon; he didn’t have to look hard for me, he knew I’d always be in my safe place, and when he put his arm around me and asked me what happened, it all came out in a rush, with me crying almost hysterically as he held me on his lap again, like he used to when I was very small. He rocked me gently, holding my head against his chest as he stroked my hair, making soft little crooning noises, comforting sounds, letting me know he was there, and eventually I began to calm down. Once I’d got to the point where the sobbing had stopped, and only the occasional hiccup erupted, Scotty sat me upright and looked into my eyes.
“Trini, I can’t be with you all day, every day, even though that’s what I want more than anything in the world; you have to go to school, and so do I; it’s the law. Do you still have your magic charm?”
I nodded and dug down into my pocket and pulled out the little package Scotty had gotten from the old Indian medicine-man.
Scotty smiled, and told me to put it back, and keep it safe.
“The magic in there is only for you, Trini; there’s a special charm, and a little piece of me as well, so even when you’re in school and I’m not there, really I’m right there in your pocket with you, okay? küçükyalı escort Don’t listen to what Mom says; she doesn’t understand, and she doesn’t believe in real magic. She’s got her Bible and her church, and that creep Pastor Bell, and she thinks that’s all there is, so you keep that magic charm safe and secret, and remember, you’re not alone; I’m always going to be there with you. Any time you need me, you just put your hand in your pocket and I’ll be right there, got that?”
Part 2: It Begins
As I got older, I began go through changes, in my head as well as my body, and I started to see how cute, then how gorgeous, my sweet big brother really was; apparently other girls did as well, and when he started dating, I just flipped; how dare he, how fucking dare he! I raged at him in the privacy of my room and my head, alternately hating him and crying over him, not daring to let anyone know how I was feeling.
I felt betrayed and furious that he was letting some slutty little tramp put her hands on him and come between us, that he was letting her be more important than me! I tried so hard not to let any of it show, but it still came out in waspish little exchanges with him, exchanges that always ended with me shrieking names at him and stalking away to cry in my room behind the locked door, while he stood rooted to the spot, a stunned, uncomprehending, hurt expression on his gentle face.
Eventually, I came to allow (not accept, never that!) him his girlfriends; they came and went after a few weeks anyway, as if he wasn’t sure who or what he wanted, so he’d decided to try out everyone; they, of course, were eager to try out for the team, a whole parade of them; I think I may have mentioned this before a few times, but Scotty (MY Scotty!) was drop-dead gorgeous, with a sweet, friendly, compassionate nature to match, and all the girls in his class were carrying big torches for him.
As I passed into my teens, and matured further as the years passed, I’d see him looking at me with that quizzical, slightly astonished look he’d developed around me, and a small, strange, but pleasant quiver would start in the pit of my tummy.
My teens, especially my late teens, were the most unsettling, but also the best time for me; I found myself thinking more and more about him; I would suddenly stop what I was doing when an image of him smiling, or looking at me, or concentrating as he studied flashed into my head, seemingly out of nowhere. These images grew ever more frequent as I grew older, and now other things, feelings I found hard to explain or understand, were beginning to intrude as well. When I finally discovered how good it felt to pleasure myself, quite late in life, I have to say, it was almost inevitable that it would be Scotty’s face I saw when I was doing it.
At first I couldn’t understand how it could be right to do that, and why Scotty’s face would occupy my thoughts when I did, and why the two together should bring such a rush of pleasure; I felt somehow that it was wrong, and I just knew that my God-shouting loony of a mother would hit the fucking roof if she even guessed, prompted by that creepy bastard who still held such sway over her.
But that didn’t stop me; it felt so good, and for me, it felt right. Scotty was the most wonderful person I had ever known. How could it be wrong to think about him in that way while I did what I did to make myself feel so good?
And so I went on, slowly learning about myself, putting the pieces together in my head so they made sense; I knew this was somehow a part of growing up, of maturing, but the connection eluded me; Sex-Ed in back in High School had been a few minutes in Health, and had been almost entirely about why you shouldn’t do it, but almost no information on exactly what you shouldn’t be doing. I don’t think the cartoons they showed us to explain the birds and the bees were produced by people with even a tenuous grasp on reality, because they made no sense at all, but that was what my mom and the other religious/conservative nut-jobs on the PTA had foisted on us, so that was what we got.
Sometimes, when the frustration and lack of knowledge got too much, my girlfriends and I would fantasize about sneaking out and hitching a ride into Gainsboro, and leap naked in front of the unsuspecting marines at Camp Lowell, just to see if getting roundly fucked was as dirty, depraved, sinful, and unpleasant as Mom and her fellow harpies made it sound.
I’d come to the conclusion, based on my observations of Mom and her extreme reaction to even a minor allusion to the S-word, that anything she and her mealy-mouthed, batshit crazy church-friends thought was dirty or wrong probably wasn’t all that bad, and besides, it would have been nice to find out for myself; it would certainly make my life more interesting! The only thing that stopped me doing that was the feeling that Scotty really, definitely wouldn’t like that very much…
We had no internet at home, so no chance to do a little surreptitious research; Mom and her fellow religious nuts were convinced the internet was the Devil’s playground, or as Mom put it, no doubt echoing Pastor Bell, whose mouthpiece she’d become, ‘a torrent of filth’, so no internet at home, and no cable; we were probably the most out-of-date, disconnected and backward home in middle America.
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