I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten Chapter 122: Itai

I didn’t go back to sleep. Even if I tried, I didn’t think I’d be able to. My skin still felt charged from the adrenaline, though we got the glass cleaned up and Alisha sent an email to whatever contractor did work on her house so the window would be fixed in a couple days. In the anti we taped a plastic bag over the hole so nothing could get in.

I sat on the couch as Alisha took her first shower since the night before last, relaxing back against the cushions. Before, I had no idea there were guns everywhere. And now, I wondered how many other guns were in the house. Surely her bedroom was the place she had the most and they had been placed in key areas, not just haphazardly. Still it was sobering to see her pull all eight of them out of their hiding places and put them away in the closet.

I watched the sun start to paint the sky greys and lavenders before the blue started to take over.

I frowned, seeing sothing out on the balcony out there, on the other side of the window.

It looked like so form of trash, which was why it had concerned. Alisha and I hadn’t stepped foot out there. I got up, putting my phone aside and walked over, examining it through the glass.

Trash, right?

I investigated the door, found the dead bolt keeping it shut and managed to turn it over, stepping out into the outside world.

It felt open and exposed out here. That would explain why Alisha ignored this part of her house. A cold wind blew across the stonework in that lavender hued light.

I approached the trash, frowning more.

It wasn’t trash.

It was a bat. A dead bat and upon a slightly further inspection I saw the wound that downed it and imdiately turned to look where the bullet had punched through the window.

Alisha hadn’t missed, I realized. Neither of us had seen the tiny creature in the dark.

I saw Alisha start to co out of the bathroom and with a hurried step, I swiped my foot to kick the bat off the balcony, letting it fall into the tall grass below.

She didn’t need to know how lethal she was when not conscious.

I still felt a bit bad about kicking the poor creature on top of everything else but at least it would end up reclaid by the earth down there rather than getting mummified up here.

Alisha stepped out onto the balcony behind . She didn’t like it. There was no imdiately visible evidence to an outsider but I knew her well enough the stillness told more than anything.

“Is everything alright, Kitten?” she asked.

I nodded, and went back to where she was hovering by the door. “Just curious,” I reassured her, and herded her back in before she saw any telltale signs of blood. Even tiny blood.

She didn’t protest, looking relieved to be inside again.

Her hand trailed back and wrapped around my waist before pulling closer.

There was warmth radiating from her from the shower still. And she slled wonderfully like lavender and cucumber.

And then she was pushing ahead of her, then onto the bed.

I flushed hotly and turned myself over to watch her climb on after and pull in until our foreheads were touching.

Then she pushed down the rest of the way. My body didn’t argue the treatnt. She always made feel good.

I laid in the bed after, warm, floaty, and completely content as she got up again and finished fixing her hair up.

She gave that teasing smirk she did when she knew my insides were lty.

A selfish thought that I was glad she was ordered off work for a week passed through my brain, though I dismissed it quickly. Her affection was nice, but the anxiety and worry from watching her be so still for so long still lingered sowhere.

I yawned, stretched and then started to get up, just to have her put a hand on my chest and guide back down again.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Shh,” she hushed . Her hands started to roam again, leaving sparks of overstimulation in their wake.

“Alisha,” I started to protest

She kissed my forehead. “I can get more out of you,” she said coyly.

My hair stood on end and I started to pull away but she didn’t quite let .

“Itai,” I stated firmly, my heart starting to beat with fear, not arousal.

She froze, pulled her hands away and sat back to look at , brow furrowed.

I let out a breath, relieved. “I’m confused,” I told her.

“I love you,” she said.

“I… I know. But that didn’t feel…” I didn’t quite know how to explain. “Are you doing this for or to shut your brain off?” I asked finally.

Her eyes skittered briefly as her thoughts processed. “Oh,” she said, realizing what I was saying.

I reached a hand out, letting her put her face into it lovingly. “I love you too, Alisha,” I told her. “But I don’t have more in for today.”

She nodded, kissed my hand lovingly. “Okay,” she agreed.

I sat up the rest of the way, folding my bare legs underneath . “Do you want to talk?” I asked her. “About feelings?”

“Are we fighting?” she asked. There was more concern and worry, probably about .

I shook my head. “No. I an about how you’re feeling. Without your work.”

She shifted on the bed, letting her legs relax more from their braced position. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. I don’t have anything to do. I don’t know how to fill the ti,” she explained.

“I thought it was deeper than that,” I said calmly. “Like… anxiety. Like you feel like sothing bad’s going to happen if you aren’t doing sothing right now.”

She was silent.

“I know it’s… hard,” I told her. “I… was diagnosed with anxiety in college. I rember feeling frustrated about it.”

She took a breath, evened herself out a bit. “If I can’t turn my feelings off,” she started. “I can’t control them.”

I nodded.

“And if I can’t control them they spiral,” she said. “And I end up curled up on the bathroom floor of the laundromat, blubbering like an idiot.”

I put a hand on hers. “You’re human,” I reminded her. “Not a machine.”

She stared at the ssed up comforter. “No one else can know that.”

My hand squeezed a little bit. I hoped it was reassuring to her. “You don’t have to show other people,” I told her. “But you’re not coping healthily by completely turning your emotions off.”

I pulled her down onto the bed with and nestled against her.

“I know it's hard, but do you want to try to just be for a bit?”

“‘Just be?’” she echoed. She got more comfortable next to , rustling the sheets around.

“Yes. So your brain processes feelings,” I explained. “So you can let go of them.”

There was more silence from her, though I could feel her thinking still. “I-I will cry,” she pointed out.

“No one else has to know,” I reassured.

She pulled closer.

Once the tears started, they didn’t really stop until she had nothing left, but she still shook against .

I didn’t ask what she was crying about. She might not even know, but the emotions bled out until she was limp and exhausted.