A Legal Trap - Chapter 6

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The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Last Updated: 2/14/2024 to smooth out portions of the story.

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March 11th, 7:18 a.m.
The morning started with breakfast in the hotel's restaurant and running into Jacob. We talked about Amber, and before I knew it, I had agreed to speak with her today. It’s not like I was some kind of mental health professional, which is what she probably needs most right now, but I did agree talk to her. According to Jacob, the Carson’s just wanted to know about the events leading up to her flight from arguably a damn normal and very supportive environment. Was there something they could do going forward to support her more, connect with her, and keep her from some of the online activities we all found shocking?

They wanted to know the possibility that she would continue on this destructive path she'd dabbled with and how they could mitigate that chance. I wanted to tell Jacob there was no way to judge any of that, but I held my tongue. My own dysfunctional actions regarding getting positive strokes by those using me as a fetish might make my insights into her state of mind easier, but I wasn't going to have some patented resolution to fix her psyche. Only she could do and when she decided she was ready to stop being used.

The escape was to get those positive strokes you needed from within and from the support of those closest to you. Nothing good ever came from my adventures online or would for Amber. I was not about to try and explain that in any great detail. It would have been too much information to share with the managing partner of the law firm that employed me and likely would have got me fired due to the problems that might cause for the firm or some client that knew of my past life online.

In the end, I had done pretty well for myself after getting away from that self-destructive side Amber had toyed with. I think the problem going forward for her was whether she had it within herself to seek and accept the help she needed. Could she trust in everyone around her being supportive, and pretty much build herself up enough not to seek that negative type of gratification, no matter how positive it appeared? It was a tall order, one that didn't happen overnight for me. It took me several months to get over the addiction—the need for the wrong kind of attention that was anything but positive and I had been blind to.

I just didn't know if she was mature enough to break free from that crap. Augh...

Jacob said he would be out front with the car at 10:00 a.m. I asked about Paul, and he said he was doing some work on digital evidence we’d gathered for the police. The last thing he’d said was that he’d talked to Janet and was considering possibly extending my stay through mid-week; that was going to be a day-to-day TBD decision. I wondered why. I wasn’t exactly value added right now.

When Jacob left, I lingered over a couple of pieces of bacon and some hash browns, finishing them but barely touching my eggs. I downed three glasses of water during breakfast, but it was a poor attempt at hydration. I signed the bill for to my room, including the customary fifteen-percent gratuity. Was that going to be an expense I could claim, the gratuity? I shook my head—a question for another time.

I made my way to my room to change; I needed to clear my head after last night with Paul, so my plan was to go for a run before it got too warm out. I put on baggy running shorts over tights, a sports bra and a loose-fitting tank top, powder blue Nike running shoes, and sunglasses. I grabbed a bottle of water, headphones, an armband for my phone, and a room key. That should do I thought looking around the suite. My goal was five miles; I didn't care if I got lost. I was intent on running my frustrations out of me...

Time check: 8:02 AM, plenty of time...

March 11th, 9:58 a.m.
I was just shy of my run goal, but I felt so much better after I got back to the hotel, especially after hitting the shower. I was dreading going to the Carson’s and talking to Amber and had thought about that kid way too much on my run. So much for vanquishing my frustrations by going for a run!

Deciding what to wear was another can of worms, but in the end I decided on my nicest pair of slacks, a simple top, and flats. I'd spent way too much time on my makeup and hair—I could already feel the judging Amber would be doing when I arrived. I still had no idea how I was going to reach this kid.

It took about ten minutes for us to get to Carson's, and in that time, barely anything was said on the drive-over. Jacob seemed deep in thought, as if something was bothering him. I didn't press and just marveled at the sameness of the area's homes block after block—same style, same color, no yards, no greenery... It was all military desert brown camouflage.

Stephanie met us at the door, and once inside, we could hear her husband yelling at someone on the phone in the other room. Jacob split from our gathering to see what was going on, and Stephanie ushered me into the kitchen, where it was impossible to hear what was being yelled.

"We really want to thank you for agreeing to speak with Amber. She hasn't said much since we got her home," Stephanie said with a pained face. It was obvious she'd spent some time crying recently.

"I'm happy to help Mrs. Carson." I wanted to hug her, but I held my ground on the opposite side of the kitchen island. We didn’t rate that kind of thing, though we were both women and it was kind of a cornerstone for women to be compassionate, supportive, and have empathy.

"Stephanie, please. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water would be wonderful, thank you Stephanie," and saying her name just didn't feel right.

When she gave me the glass, there really wasn't anything left to say. She didn't mention what had her husband going ballistic when we came in, so I took a sip of the cool liquid, and a few seconds later I was following her to Amber's room. The door was ajar, and after a courtesy knock with Stephanie poking her head tentatively into the room, we entered.

"Amber, this is Elizabeth. She works for your uncle Jacob." Amber looked up from her iPad and nodded at my existence. "OK, well, I'll leave you two," Stephanie said tentatively. "I'll be just down the hall, honey."

Ten seconds later, we were alone, and the door to her room was now open about halfway. When I was sure Stephanie was gone, I closed the door. That got me a questioning look from Amber.

"You, the computer genius who hacked into my accounts?" she asked.

OK, not going to mince words; warm up to conversing.

"No, that was a computer forensics specialist," I replied trying to control my nerves and likely failing.

"Well, I would appreciate being able to get back into my accounts. People are asking about me online. I want back into my email," she complained.

"I can't do anything about that. I think until the police and FBI are finished with whatever they are doing, you're going to have to put up with being locked out," I stated.

She looked questioningly at me and asked, "How long have you been on HRT?"

Alrighty then, so much for easing into getting to know one another. Was it that obvious or had the Caron’s mentioned that to her? I told her how long and that I didn't have it as easy as she did with a supportive family. She complained that not everything was as it appeared, but wouldn’t expand on that statement.

Since we'd skipped the politeness portion of feeling each other out, I asked, "Why run away?"

"Are you going to tell me that was stupid and dangerous?" she quipped back.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was the smartest move on your part. I don't know if you did that for love or attention or whatever, but that guy, David, right? He's probably not concerned with your best interests."

I had gotten her 'Daddy's' first name from Jacob over breakfast; I assumed he'd gotten that from the Carson's, the FBI, or the police, maybe even Paul. If that was something Paul had uncovered, I would have liked to have heard it from him. In addition to that, there are a few more things I wanted to know - like what happened last night.

"You don't know that," Amber shot back.

I snapped back, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do. I've been down this road, and it's a fucking shithole that will chew your ass up and discard you when you aren't providing enough in return or some fuck kills you for being Trans. You're nothing but a fetish for those assholes online; I can guarantee you that."

I was shaking ever so slightly. It was the nerves of speaking candidly, forcibly, and pushing back at this kid who thought she knew everything. I was now on edge, my Xanax fix not doing all it could for me at the moment.

"Yeah, well, he loves me. David loves me, and I don't care what you say." She put the iPad down and winced from the pain as she tried to sit up in bed.

I was sure she was probably still on pain medication, so maybe that was part of this attitude I was getting. Then again, maybe she just had a rebellious streak and this was her ‘FU Bitch!’ in return for my being involved with tracking her down. I wasn't about to mention that I'd seen plenty of his emails professing his love for her.

"If he loved you, why did the police find you alone in that house?"

"David went to get me donuts," she said meekly.

"He left his phone. What if something had happened to you while he was away? He was protecting himself Amber. Sooner or later, they will catch him." As soon as I said that, I was questioning whether I should have attacked him. Fuck! I'm not a shrink. I'm usually on the other side of the couch!

"Same thing my mom said... Well, good luck with that; he's probably already well on his way home by now," she taunted.

He was already on his way home? Did that mean he wasn't from New Mexico?

"Where is he from?" I asked. Her answer was to shrug her shoulders.

OK, I'm just backing this kid into a corner. I need to switch things up. I walked to her closet, flipping the light on after opening the door.

"You have a wardrobe I'd kill for... Do you shop with your mom? You've got good taste. If your shoes were a size larger, I probably would have borrowed those tan pumps." I turned back towards her; she was watching me.

"Which ones?" she asked.

I reached down and held up the faux synthetic snakeskin tan pumps with four-inch heels.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to look into finding these in a size twelve when I get back to Seattle." I looked inside and could see they were size eleven's.

"Nordstrom's," she offered.

"Thanks. What would you pair them with in here?" I flipped through a few skirts, pulling one I thought might work, and showed her. She nodded ‘No’ and after a moment of browsing I pulled a cute summer dress out. It was whimsy and was made of a light fabric that would flowing beautifully.

"How about this?" I asked.

"Seriously," she said as if she were appalled by my choice.

"Alright, what in here goes with these hot shoes?" I tried to sound playful, but I was struggling to be genuine. I was also a bit annoyed that my style cues were so off for this kid.

I watched her get up slowly, pull her t-shirt down slowly over her runner's shorts, and slowly make her way to the closet.

"Are you supposed to be getting up?" I asked.

"It hurts a bit, but I have to go to the bathroom anyway." She moved past me and pushed a few hangers aside until she had a light brown suede mini skirt in her hand. Then she flipped through a few different blouses and picked the wildest-colored ones and even one with a crazy pattern. "I'd pair them with these, this one, or any of those," she said.

"Yeah, guess those would go. I don't shop often, and when I do, I'm kind of at the mercy of that week's thrift store selection." I felt embarrassed to say that, but it was the truth.

"You dress too conservatively. You've got pretty eyes, know your way around a makeup brush obviously, and your hair is cute—maybe pull it back... You just dress too bland, conservative, and it makes you look old."

Whoa... That was probably one of the best compliments I'd ever gotten in a long while! I ignored the bland and old dig. I was twenty-freaking-four! I’m not old kid!

"Thanks, I... I'm a work in progress. Plus, I 'have' to dress conservatively; I work for your uncle."

"Well, good luck with that... Uncle Jacob is nice and all, but way too cerebral for me... I gotta pee," she said, taking the pumps I was holding and tossing them in the general direction of where I had pulled them from, turned the light off, and sort of shooed me from her closet before entering the en-suite bathroom.

Was she warming up to me, or was she just screwing with me? I sat at her desk and looked at the pictures of her with friends tubing on a river somewhere in a bathing suit (shorts for the bottoms), riding a horse in another...

"I've changed a lot since most of those were taken."

She’d startled me, but I tried to act as if I were just turning to face her rather than jumping. She was grimacing as she sat back down on the edge of her bed.

"I'll bet those hurt." I could see the bandages wrapped tightly around her chest through the t-shirt to give her tissue a chance to heal and accept the foreign material now inside her chest. "Why implants?"

She looked like she was going to say David's name, but caught herself saying, "I was tired of waiting to feel more complete."

"They feel like you'd expected?"

"Pretty much—more weight on my chest than I expected. Have you considered implants?"

What Trans woman hasn't thought about implants?

"I don't have the money for that kind of luxury. You've already critiqued one of my best outfits. If I had the money, I would probably splurge on better clothes. Anyway, a guy told me that more than a handful or mouthful was a waste," I tried to chuckle, but it fell on deaf ears.

"I've never heard that... Most guys I've talked with always asked when I was going to get them done. Guys want big tits and that’s what I wanted."

"We saw that David paid for the surgery, even though you certainly have collected plenty from your online subscription followers."

"He said he wanted to give them to me for my birthday. He was pretty excited, and..." she stopped when she realized she was rambling, not being guarded about what she was saying.

"Look, I'm not here to report back to your parents or the police, anything you say. We're just a couple Trans girls talking. I promise." I really didn't have plans to divulge every bit of our conversation, but if there was a clue to finding David, well, that was going to get passed on.

"Sure," she said with a tone that dripped more contempt than she probably realized.

OK, let's try a different tact.

"When I came out to my parents, there was no support. Trans was barely even a word anyone understood anything about. That was like four years ago." I wasn't sure where I was going with this and just let it follow its own course. "I basically was shown the door. I spent the next six months hopping from one friend's house to another. I did the homeless shelter thing and lived on the streets for almost a week before getting my ass beat by a group of losers."

"What the fuck is wrong with your parents?" she interrupted.

"Yeah, seriously, right?"

I'd spent years trying to figure out why my family gave up on me. I wondered if they had been more like Carson's where I would be today.

"I would never do something like that to my kid." She thought about that a second and added, "Not like I'm going to have kids in the traditional sense."

"Maybe you adopt? Maybe you meet someone with kids already." Amber just nodded, so I pressed on. "I was pretty low after getting out of the hospital from the beating I took. I have certainly thought about suicide more times than is healthy. I finally moved in with a friend, and the internet became an outlet, a place to get myself some positive feedback, since no one was giving that to me much.

“Talking to guys online was easy; I was anonymous, and so were they. Sending pictures was exciting, especially when you're being told how sexy you looked and how hot you are making the person on the other end. Then I started webcam sessions. The only thing is that I didn't connect the dots; I didn't get paid for any of it. Not the videos, pictures, or anything. I didn’t even realize I could create an Amazon wish list; people could have bought stuff for me. It all became an addiction at that point. The attention was my drug." I felt a lump growing in my throat and had to pause.

"I don't regret what I've done."

Maybe right now you don't, but one day you will.

"Your video with David will come back to haunt you one day. You gave up so much, and for what, a couple thousand, maybe more, before the police took down your accounts?"

The truth was, Paul had been the one to initiate that, but the cops would have done the same thing.

"I don't have a problem with what I've done. It was hot and wasn't about the money at all. David said I might as well cash in on it. That's a lot of money for barely even a day online."

"How well do you know him, Amber? I mean, really know David? His past, his now... I think the money was absolutely part of it, his pushing you and he was going to use you to cash in on your sexuality."

"I know he loves me and wants to be with me. He cares about what happens to me," she said in defense of him.

"That may be, but are you one of many? Maybe he's been with younger girls? And you can’t rule out boys, which is another can of ugly. The law is going to say he groomed you as a predator and say he is a pedophile that needs to get locked up. I've seen your video; none of that was 'love' in any sense of the word. He fucked you without a condom, came inside of you, and had you pull your ass cheeks apart to film his conquest dribbling out of you—then he got you to post it online so you could make some money? How is any of that shit love?" I asked.

"You don't get it..."

I cut her off, "I don't get it? I've done this shit with more fucking losers than you'll ever know. I've been raped, beaten, and used, and some of that shit was videoed and is out there on the internet for all to see. I didn't get paid; I got used. You think I don't get it? I crawled out of a fucking gutter of sick, perverted sexual bullshit to be where I am right now, and you couldn't pay me enough to go back. I betrayed my belief, to my very core, that I was born in the wrong body." I was yelling, and when I stopped, the room was draped in an eerie silence.

Amber had been staring at me, and then lowered her head.

"Look," I started more calmly, "I know none of this transition stuff is easy. I know it doesn't happen overnight, and a lot of it is complicated and confusing, and you want to rush it to be over. I still get anxious to rush things along because I'm not whole or complete. Selling yourself out like you have online is not the answer. It is my biggest regret in my twenty-four years of life. You don't want to live with regrets, trust me. There are plenty of David’s out there, just waiting to detour you from being the woman you were born to be. Be better than me…"

When she didn't have anything to say, I stood and pulled a drawer out on her desk to get some paper. I wrote my cell phone number and left it on the desk.

"That's my cell number. If you want to talk, call me. Live life for you, Amber. You've got a lot going for you. Don't go down the same path I did. It's not too late." I made my way to the door, looked back at Amber, and then made my way to the kitchen. When I entered, Jacob and Carson’s were talking but stopped upon seeing me.

"Did she say anything about this David character?" Jacob asked.

"No, we really just talked about how destructive her activities have been to getting her to where she should be."

"Did she say anything about her online presence,” was his next question.

"Mr. Wentz, no, she didn’t. My guess is it was just easy to get addicted to the feedback. This David guy wasn't the only one who made her activities online a source for positive feedback. I know that probably doesn't make sense since Amber is so well supported, but it's truly part of why she did so much online. I think combined with the feedback and the monetary validation she was getting, it was just kind of consumed her..."

"I'm going to kill that fucker," Mr. Carson said under his breath.

"Mr. Carson, I think Amber knows what she was doing was wrong," I offered.

The conversation went in a couple different directions, and I tried my best to relate my experiences—without in-depth details—to give everyone some insight but still protected my story. After answering a number of questions with my wondering ramblings, the questions eventually stopped. Jacob had treated some of the direction those questions went like a cross-examination, but I think I did well with my answers at hiding the truth of my past mistakes. I think he knew there was more that I knew about what Amber was into; maybe he knew everything? Had he gotten that information from Paul? Augh...

Bottom line: Amber needed counseling; we all agreed on that point. The Carson’s said they had arranged a second therapist and a few other things to help keep her on the right path. We didn't talk about the content she had online; it almost sounded from some of the comments that Paul might be doing something about that, though there is no way to remove all content from the internet. I was living proof of that.

Jacob and I left ten minutes later after a final thank you from Carson’s. Stephanie and I hugged. I whispered to her that I had given Amber my number and that I would be happy to talk with her any time. She squeezed my hands in thanks.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, much like the ride to the Carson’s. Jacob dropped me off at the entrance to the hotel and said he was going to meet up with his FBI buddy Landon. There was mention that he would catch up with me later; I wasn’t sure why.

March 11th, 1:33 PM
On the walk to my room, I fished my phone out of my purse with the intention of calling Janet. I wasn't sure what I was going to report, but she had made it clear I was supposed to report. When my iPhone
I woke up to my touch. I could see there were messages from Paul, so clicked on iMessenger and read his texts:

Paul, iMessage: Today 10:33 AM
"Good morning. I wanted to begin by apologizing for last night. I was, I don't know exactly what I was. You were perfect, and I was unsure of everything I was feeling. I would like to talk about it if you are willing to give me a chance to explain. Let me know."

Paul, iMessage: Today, 11:58 AM
"How is it going with Amber? The Carson’s? I wanted to let you know I overheard Stephanie telling Jacob she really liked you. I like you. I hope we can clear up a few things. I should be back at the hotel by 4. Do you have plans for dinner?"

Paul, iMessage: Today, 12:24 PM
"Dinner?"

Paul, iMessage: Today, 1:09 PM
"Hello?"

I wasn't sure how I felt about last night, other than being hurt. The entire evening was beyond amazing. I was drinking every bit of being with him, like it was all so completely natural, comfortable, and normal. We talked and laughed. I know he was flirting, and so was I. And then he just got me in my room, like none of that mattered or had even happened. It couldn't have been worse—unless he shook my hand to say 'Good Night'.

When the door closed, I was left wanting so much more, disappointed, and crashing hard—until there was that knock at the door. I opened the door and said something about him forgetting something. I watched him stepped towards me, his hands took hold of my waist, and we kissed. Not just a polite kiss, but a kiss that screamed we both wanted more!

It was perfect! I was absolutely soaring! And then he stopped and pulled away suddenly, as if he couldn't reconcile that he was kissing a biological male who looked like and was to her soul a female. The confusion, the doubts, and the fear were written all over his face. I had seen that look before, and I knew the heartbreak that was coming.

What were his last words before leaving me at my door that second time? "I'm... I'm really sorry..."

And all I could do was watch him walk away. I’d been lifted to new heights and immediately crushed. I haven't cried with an ache or pain like that in months; that streak ended last night.

I looked at my phone and considered my response.

::: --- :::

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Bronwen Welsh in proofreading and giving me insightful advice. She is an accomplished author in her own right and I appreciate her time more than I can say...

Don't be afraid to click the "Thumbs Up" icon for this short story if it's done anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most likes or payouts for that matter (I’d have bot’ed that bitch long ago if there was)). If you comment, I will reply, so let’s chat or not or whatever floats your noddle.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected](link sends e-mail)(link sends e-mail)) - I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued. Thanks for reading...

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Comments

Yeah..........

D. Eden's picture

Been there, done that..........

And yes, I have the scars to show for it.

We are all self destructive in one way or another. Yes, I have had my bouts with suicidal depression - still do periodically, but not nearly as often. I am finally getting to be myself, but even with that the doubts are still there in the darkness, waiting for the lights to go out every night. The self-loathing and the blame still haunts me for all the things I have done, and all the things I have not done; for all my failures and all the promises I have not kept. For all the people I have hurt, whether through my own actions, or through inaction. For those I couldn’t save, for those I have cared about, and most of all for those I love.

I only went a very short way down Amber’s path, only dipped a toe briefly into those waters, but enough to understand the attraction. I have been lucky enough to find the support and positive reinforcement I need through family and friends, and most surprising of all through associates and employees at work. I am that extremely rare transgender individual who has a wonderful work environment where I get not only the support of my employer, but the acceptance of my fellow employees.

We each need to find that spot in the world, and in our lives, where we can simply be ourselves and be accepted for who we are and what we can do. The internet can be a wonderful place to meet friends and gain the support of others - but porn and sex sites are not where you get that.

D

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Thank You...

RachelMnM's picture

D... Took me a while to gather my thoughts about your comments because there's so much good, truth, pain, and triumph rolled into what your wrote... Self destructive tendencies - what a trap and we do all have them regardless of our journey through life. That little voice of doubt chewing at your earlobes - so hard to not listen too sometimes, again everyone's heard it...

The internet adds an interesting dimension to our being - but can also a trap for some very dark crap when we're not strong, desperate for a connection, and searching for acceptance... I hadn't seen any stories written about these traps and thought I'd scrape the surface, see what kind of reaction would come of it. Besides the fiction elements of this being a story, there is truth in the dark I'm writing about. Certainly not rampant or every Transgender teen runs the same journey as Amber / Elizabeth have - but it does happen in varying degrees some just don't get.

And there are successes - like Elizabeth's career - but it took some work to get where she is today. Your own successes, including family - which is huge - prove you are tenacious, strong willed, focused, and loved. Your employer, friends... All those are successes. It needs to be easier to find our spots in the world, in our lives, to be ourselves and be accepted - and that's partially done by people opening their minds and supporting, celebrating, embracing that people are different and they have the same wants out of life - namely to be happy...

I appreciate you sharing and taking the time to comment. While we live, let us live.

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Paul stil shows promise

He is getting past understanding Liz truly is a woman.

Yes...

RachelMnM's picture

Paul might still have promise, but is it too late from Elizabeth's perspective? The hurt piling on could be too much...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

So Dead Center.

God, this is so right on. I can’t believe it. I tried the miniskirt and clubbing thing very briefly and stopped it. Ran into a schizoaffective with huge knife scars everywhere and a silverback who was on cocaine and into gay porn. These people can’t be your friends. They can’t care for others and can’t be dependable. God, what a lonely life!
Then I was dumb enough to do a Craig’s list ad for “casual friends”, being too naive to understand what that meant. The first session had the man getting me naked and spanking me and getting ready to take me by the ass. The only problem for him was that I lapsed into a dissociative state and the man thought I was dead. The second session led to a man repeatedly asking me how much I charged, but I just wanted a relationship. He finally left without doing anything, and in retrospect, I think he was a vice cop.

I’d gone from being a long term, successful trade and businessman to a frigging tranny, so I had great credit, and my retirement fund to spend. The whole reason I got into the tranny business was the extreme doses of psych meds. Yeah, and my addiction to porn. I had the Orchiectomy to end my sex drive, not to transition. The problem was that the family found out and they threw me out. My intention was to stay with the family after I had the nut job. I could write a whole book on this part.

My SRS was paid for on my credit card.

Later I felt so guilty that I got into BDSM seeking punishment and found it. I’d been a Fundy Christian before, and of course they laid an egg and threw me out. You can put yourself through a lot of hell by not being smart.

Got too upset. Had to stop.

Gwen...

RachelMnM's picture

You are fierce! Strong, a warrior! And while some of your journey might have been better on differing paths - the one you fought through made you who you are. You are beautiful...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Not so fierce, maybe stubborn.

When they have you on your back, you can claw their guts out maybe. This is going to be so explicit but so real. This is the real battle for trans folk. If one of the mods cuts this out, I can PM you with it. I just think other trans folk should see the fight.

I just finished a 6 year battle with the Mormons. Their missionaries are the ones who recruited me, so I didn't beg to join. Then after I got in they kept saying, "but no, you are not worthy" of this or that. I fought them and showed them in their own Bible where we are as good as them or maybe better. Of course that stuck in their craw.

Any Bible reader that wants to buy into this line of thinking, Matt 5, Matt 19:12, and Isaiah 56:4-5 show conclusively that God loves us if we follow his path, and I do. The Mormons choked on that and I finally left and them without a leg to stand on.

If your not religious then don't worry about it.

Nothing wrong with...

RachelMnM's picture

Stubborn... I am not a fan of structured religious institutions. I believe and have my own relationship with God. I'll leave it at that... If you are not with your "choked" up people - then you've made the right choice.

I still think you're fierce!

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

"I'm... I'm really sorry..."

crap. I guess it was too much to hope for that he'd be perfectly okay with it ...

DogSig.png

Not a surprise...

RachelMnM's picture

Getting past her birth sex was to much to process for Paul. He's seen more of Elizabeth's life than most, so that certainly probably added to it. He should not have tried opening that door - not fully understanding how that rejection was a dagger in her psyche...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Watch out for Eric, he sees

Watch out for Eric, he sees everthing. Although he hasn't PM'd me lately ^J^

Don't worry, Paul's hooked.
Are you going to post every day? Wow, if I could only write like that !

Karen

Love Eric...

RachelMnM's picture

He see's stuff I miss... :-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Cow eating the cabbage

Jamie Lee's picture

Elizabeth did the right thing in telling Amber how it really is in the real world, when Amber told her she didn't understand.

Amber is the one wearing rose colored glasses, the one who doesn't get it. Amber was looking for a validation she wasn't getting at home, or didn't believe so. She needed to have someone want her for being a woman, so it made her desperate and vulnerable to the first man who gave her attention.

And Amber fell for the schpeel hook line and sinker. Did it ever cross her mind why Daddy never informed her parents that he would pay for breast enhancements? Or have her tell her parents where they were going? And why he had her leave her phone? She never saw these things because of the rose colored glasses. And her own desperation for validation.

For Daddy to seem to be smoke he had to have help, help that could provide him with all the necessary money and papers.

Others have feelings too.

Kids...

RachelMnM's picture

Impatient and no real world experience - a bad combo....

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...