Waiting For Sara: A story of heartbreak, love, change, and caring.

[baseball4life]

Great story, you have me reading. Keep up the good work.

[Abigail]

Mm good so far. One thing though. At the end of the last chapter someone yelled "REJECTED" See, when I was picturing the scene in my head they were in a room alone, so how did someone know what happened? That bit confused me.

Other than that I still stand by the fact that I don't think it's predictable, and I'm enjoying it.

[Manveru]

He stormed out of the house looking angry and the rude party-goer knew he had gone up to talk to someone?

[Chillhouse]

Jeeze, this Jay character sounds a lot worse than Buck. I mean, Buck may be an asshole, but Jay is the creep who silently follows the whims of a girl without enough self-confidence to ask her out. And then, two weeks after her boyfriend dies, he confesses that their friendship was just a ruse to get into her pants!

[Manveru]

No, it wasn't a ruse, exactly. He wanted to get with her the whole time, yes, but he never had the courage to ask her out. But yes, he is supposed to be kind of a creep and at the same time hate himself for being that creep.

I like internal conflicts. Can you tell?

[Manveru]

Chapter Three: Emily and Sara

Ah, college. The time for a young adult’s exploration and foray into the real world. The time to discover romance, and your true calling in life. Or at least it is for most people.

It was my time to become a strung-out, alcoholic, drug-addicted, self-loathing wreck of a human being.

College was hard for me. I had just had the bad run-in with Sara a week before we both left, and I carried the hurt with me. I never called her or answered any of her messages, so I never could reconcile the hardship with myself. I tried to get her out of my mind by any means possible. And I mean ANY means. I drank, I smoked weed, I did cocaine, LSD, even acid once or twice. I skipped classes to do absolutely nothing but lay on the couch in my dorm, hating my life and everything around me. I was constantly sick, I was losing weight from lack of eating right, and I was becoming the biggest man-whore the college had ever seen. I slept with a different girl every night that I wasn’t passed out from combinations of drugs and alcohol. I was almost admitted into rehab on more than one occasion, and was in the hospital four or five times during my freshman year. But I managed to scrape through with Cs up until the last quarter of the year. When I met Emily.

I met her at a party when I was already pretty drunk. She seemed really nice, and she had a smoking body, too. She sat next to me and we started talking, and we really hit it off.

“So, Jeremy, what are you studying, anyway?” She asked me.

“Family Dynamics in Sociology,” I mumbled. I had taken that major because it was a soft science and sounded really easy.

“Family dynamics, eh? Sounds pretty boring, but I guess to each their own,” she said.

“Yeah, I only took it because it sounded easy. I really have no idea what I want to do.”

“That makes two of us,” she said, laughing softly. Her laughter really hooked me.

“You’re really beautiful, you know,” I said, the alcohol impairing my ability to realize this was a bit strong.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” she said. I looked at her, cocking my head, and she burst out laughing. I laughed too, and we eventually literally fell over each other in gales of laughter. Neither of us really knew what was so funny, but we were connecting, that was for sure.

“So,” she said, staring straight into my half-closed eyes, “Your place or mine?”

“What?” I asked, groggily. Was she really asking me that?

“What do you mean, ‘what?’? Where do you want to get some food, your place or mine?” She asked, grinning widely.

“Oh, yeah, uhm…yours, I guess. Mine’s kinda messy.” The truth was, I didn’t want her to see all the empty bottles and drug paraphernalia.

“Sounds great,” she said. She led me out of the party by my arm, practically dragging me back to her apartment. We ate day-old pizza and drank some more beer, talked a lot more, and I ended up spending the night at her place. We didn’t have sex, we just cuddled, but it was great for both of us. We started going out after that night, and my life really started to improve. I got off all the drugs, only drank socially, and really started improving my grades.

At our one-year anniversary, I was planning to finally tell her my fantasy. I had always held a place in my heart and mind to treat someone like they were a child - to ‘baby’ them and care for them in every sense of the word. I arrived at Emily’s apartment at 7 pm sharp to take her out to dinner. We arrived at my apartment afterwards at about nine o’clock, and we started to drink a bit and talk. I had prepared a few supplies beforehand, and I was planning on springing this on her as a bit of a surprise.

“Emily,” I said out of the blue, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, JJ,” she said, hugging me close. I pulled away.

“Will you let me, uhm, try something?”

“That all depends,” she said.

“Well, I want it to be kind of a surprise. It’s a bit of a fantasy of mine, and I…I want you to be a part of it.”

“As long as I don’t get hurt, I guess it’s fine,” she said, still looking a bit skeptical.

“Okay then,” I said, breathing a bit heavier now, “Close your eyes and lay back.”

She did and I lifted up her skirt and took off her underwear. She was giggling now, obviously not expecting what was coming. I grabbed an adult diaper from under my bed, unfolded it, and slipped the bottom under her butt. She gasped a bit and I pulled the front up over her crotch, Her eyes snapped open as I started doing up the tapes.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She screamed.

“I…I want to take care of you, I want you to be my little baby girl, Em.”

“Oh god, you’re sick!” She ripped off the diaper, pushed me onto my back, grabbed her panties and ran out of my room, practically sobbing.

“Great, Jay, you f***ing blew it,” I thought to myself, “The only girl that could ever replace Sara thinks you’re a freak now. Nothing left to do.”

I stumbled, sobbing, into the bathroom, and grabbed all of the pills I could get my hands on. I downed them with half a bottle of vodka and sent Sara a hurried text message before it all went black.

“I'm waiting for you.”

[silent deadly alchemist]

owwch. and here was me thinking that it was gonna be good y the end of the chapter, i was half wrong, it was good in the mddle somewhere and bad by the end.
i cant see him getting up after that, but it cant be the end. can it?
i could see how that could have gone smoother bt as you said, you prefer conflct.

[Manveru]

It's not over yet, oh no.

[NARU]

You have pleased me very much, Manveru. Almost all this site gets is shit, mildly interesting short stories, and the occasional story that might turn into something if it werent on hiatus. Youve managed to bring some decent literature here, and by decent, I mean Ill be done by the end of the story. I have a feeling what may happen next, but its nowhere near what id expected. You don't get to visit my torture room. Yet.

[Jon93]

Great Story, Loving it. Can't wait for the next chapter