Come Back When You Grow Up .. Girl

I did not really mean it. I said it to be cruel. I said it to save her from a bigger heartache later. I said it to protect her. I said it because she does not yet realize who I am .. and who I am will hurt her. I had a lot of reasons for saying it ... and yet I still do not feel very good that I did.

Women who have attempted to get close to me have usually received a warning.. specifically of rape. Now there is a duel reason for that warning in this case. A... how serious are you? When you speak to me of love and attraction or specific emotions to me .. how real are they? Are you ready to back them up? If so how far? What do you really want from me? Do you want me to fuck you? I can. B ...They need to know that I was not born with an innate sense of that line between violence and love .. abuse and sex.

Many men are. They do not hit women. They get close to that line and some electrical shock warns them away. I do not know if that is something men are supposed to be born with or if perhaps it is something they are taught. Thou shalt nots. In either case I was neither born with it nor was it ever instilled in me by nurturing parents who wanted to see me succeed with the female race of humanity. I do not get the electrical shock. I step over the line .. I wander back and forth without even realizing it. In fact sometimes I dance all over it.

That said I am not a social deviant who breaks the rules of my own society. I learned early on about rules and I now have a few really good ones of my own. But that is another subject. The thread of this one is .. I do not rape free women of my own Tribe. Unless .. you knew that was coming ... unless they put themselves in a position and ignore my warnings. So far that does not happen often at all. Most Tribe free women are rather intelligent and realize I am dead serious. I do come with warning labels.

T'zuri unnerves me. Her innocence screams at my sadistic nature with a primal invitation. But there is some vestige of my humanity left that fights that. Some knowledge that it is wrong. Some idea pounded into my thick head by my own society that ... I must protect her innocence ..... not destroy it in some hedonistic age old ritual just because I can.

But sometimes that vestige is very small compared to what rages and wars within me. This darkness that I live with. This great ink like blackness that heaves and moans and leaves my veins hot and my soul thirsty for one cooling draught to ease the fervid waves that wash through me.

This time I controlled it. This time I was cruel to protect her. This time I hurt her in a small way so I did not hurt her in a greater way. This time she believed me and listened to me. How long before she thinks she knows better? Will she remember that this is not something I can be healed from? Or grow out of? It is not like I just need the "right" woman to make it all go away. It does not go away. It is me. It will be me as long as I live and perhaps long after. She can not take this darkness from me any more than I can heal her fingers so she can play her father's flute once more .. as she was born and raised to do.