about fantasy, so why not have the perfect survivor fantasy, as I saw it?
You might not agree. If you experienced any of this, you’ll have your own ideas of how this should go, and I respect that. If mine differs, it’s not a criticism or undermining of your perspective, just a different one. I’d like to see more and more survivors’ stories published, so there is a wealth of perspectives seeping through into mainstream psyche and a deepening understanding of the complexity of recovery.
Now to triggers. Drama is the stock of a writer’s trade. Without it, you don’t have a story. You might have a really cool unstructured literary work, but no story. Drama is often concocted artificially or naturally by writers in ways that can push people’s buttons. This book starts with a graphic depiction of domestic violence. People get hurt, sometimes very hurt. There are short but evocative descriptions of sadism against animals. Acts of violence are directed against the perpetrator. I did all of this thinking hard about whether it was needed, would it further Flick’s story, but that doesn’t mean you should read it.
You know you. You know what’s gonna push your buttons, evoke stuff that doesn’t need dredging up again, and send you into a spiral. I wrote this book for everyone, but particularly survivors, and I know for many, this is not a good read for them. Make your call, honour your own needs, jump into my group, and get one of us to briefly describe what happens in problematic chapters if you need it. While not exhaustive, the most challenging chapters are 1, 4, 32, and 35, but getting someone you trust to scan it before reading may be a good strategy.
The other thing I think is going to push people’s buttons is combining a mother with the sexual excess of what a heat is in my books. A time of extreme arousal, a woman and her prospective pack work through their attraction and sometimes develop a relationship through this. This kind of wanton surrender for a mother is often problematic in our society. Women have lost jobs, lost custody of their children, and been shunned for simply engaging in fringe consensual acts, not in front of their kids, while making sure their children are safe and cared for. This juxtaposition of insatiable desire and kink vs the mother role is just seen as completely incompatible. If she’ll ‘let’ men do blah to her body, it means she’s a bad mother.
Flick tries her damnedest to be a good mother, to look after her son with everything she has. But she also ends up enjoying a very full, varied sex life towards the end. See how you feel about that, and if keen, proceed.
Love, strength, and endurance to each and every one of you.
Sam.
1
Right now, I had to wonder how I got here.
“You stupid fucking bitch!”
Rick, my husband of eleven years stormed across the room at me. He’d only just got home. I’d flinched when I heard the door slam, heard the too loud roar of the car as it pulled up in the driveway, my body freezing at the sound of the handbrake being jerked up. I hadn’t even said a word to him yet.
I got to my feet—never a good idea. Standing meant a greater surface area to attack. It was only good if you could stay on your feet, dodge or counter his attacks, and I was never any good at that. But the adrenalin that shot through my veins like electricity, the tremble in my muscles as they activated, meant my body was ready to do something, even as my brain knew whatever I tried would be useless. He was on me before I could even react, fingers wrapping themselves around my arms, digging in harder and harder as my teeth clenched hard, fighting to keep the yelp, then the screams inside.
Don’t make a noise, I thought furiously. Don’t make a fucking sound.
“What have you been doing around here all day? Huh? I work all fucking day, and you lay around here…”
I stopped listening, just feeling his spittle splash my face, breathing in the sour smell of unwashed male and beer that was uniquely Rick. I’d finished all of the housework, as per usual, knowing it would be a bone of contention no matter what I’d done. Before, I’d thrown myself into it wholesale, thinking if I just got the right combination finished…