the only thing here for me.
I clean myself up and finish going through the process of getting ready for bed. I notice though that while I may feel sad for wasting my big o on the walls, I feel happier. Lighter even, and for the first time in a long time, I sleep without dreams.
After dinner, which is all this heart healthy crap and watching a movie in my room, I pull out my laptop and wait for it to connect to the slow as molasses Wi-Fi here. I have to know what happened to her. It’s been all I’ve thought about since Allyn said something to me earlier. Sure, I could try to get in good with her and wait for her to tell me, but something about her makes me think she won’t be so forthcoming with that tale. While I wait for the search engine to take its sweet time to open, I think back on what Allyn said. Basically, all the men want her, but she needs a man worthy of her. For someone who is wanted by all, she sure seems oblivious to the desires of everyone.
I’m certainly not the man that is worthy of having such a woman. I’m just curious as to what happened to her. I’ve got enough problems on my plate than dealing with a woman with baggage the size of Texas. After my search engine opens, I type in Cori Shawbell and press enter. After about a minute I am flooded with information of every Cori Shawbell in existence. Pictures of her before whatever happened and a grainy picture of her that was taken in a hospital. Some of these pictures are of her smiling, carefree, looking like a party girl. Looking exactly like the kind of girl I would take home from a bar. But there are more serious pictures, too—after her accident— her scars red and angry. One of her in a hospital bed, on a ventilator with bandages covering a good portion of her. She looks so small in that one, almost childlike. Swollen and battered, her face has those butterfly bandages keeping the wound closed.
I haven’t read anything yet, I’m just taking my time looking at the before and after. The one thing that remains the same is the eyes. Her eyes are brown, like melted chocolate or caramel, with these long eyelashes that sweep her cheeks when she blinks. Her eyes carry a gentleness that instantly welcomes you, even when she is angry. Eyes that when they enter the room they instantly look for an escape, like they want to be anywhere but where they actually are.
Listen to me, I sound like a bitch. But all I can feel with this woman is a fierce protectiveness. I know that once I read these articles I will be seeing red, so I’m taking my time studying her features before I get to the nitty gritty. What’s odd is that looking at the old pictures are great, she was a knockout and I mean grade-a gorgeous and still is. But looking at the new ones gets my dick hard… hard enough to pound nails. The new pictures have an edge to them that wasn’t there when she was the cookie cutter gorgeous. Maybe a sadness? It makes me feel worse because who gets their dick hard on someone’s sadness?
Clicking on a link, I see that it’s a national news organization that has written an article about her. So this was that big of a deal, and I never heard of it. I don’t know if I was even stateside when it happened. Taking a deep breath, I start reading. Didn’t even make it out of the first paragraph without seeing red and wanting to snap my laptop in half. A few months ago, an inmate who was the leader of a gang started a riot at the prison Cori where worked. Cori got caught in it and paid a huge price, one that almost was life ending. Come to find out the inmate had an obsession with a different nurse but decided to take it out on her. I feel sick to my stomach reading this. She was raped multiple times by multiple inmates, bitten, beaten, and cut. When she was rescued, she was barely breathing and spent a few months in the hospital with the first few weeks on a ventilator.
By the time I’m done reading the first article I’m seething, but I can’t
I clean myself up and finish going through the process of getting ready for bed. I notice though that while I may feel sad for wasting my big o on the walls, I feel happier. Lighter even, and for the first time in a long time, I sleep without dreams.
After dinner, which is all this heart healthy crap and watching a movie in my room, I pull out my laptop and wait for it to connect to the slow as molasses Wi-Fi here. I have to know what happened to her. It’s been all I’ve thought about since Allyn said something to me earlier. Sure, I could try to get in good with her and wait for her to tell me, but something about her makes me think she won’t be so forthcoming with that tale. While I wait for the search engine to take its sweet time to open, I think back on what Allyn said. Basically, all the men want her, but she needs a man worthy of her. For someone who is wanted by all, she sure seems oblivious to the desires of everyone.
I’m certainly not the man that is worthy of having such a woman. I’m just curious as to what happened to her. I’ve got enough problems on my plate than dealing with a woman with baggage the size of Texas. After my search engine opens, I type in Cori Shawbell and press enter. After about a minute I am flooded with information of every Cori Shawbell in existence. Pictures of her before whatever happened and a grainy picture of her that was taken in a hospital. Some of these pictures are of her smiling, carefree, looking like a party girl. Looking exactly like the kind of girl I would take home from a bar. But there are more serious pictures, too—after her accident— her scars red and angry. One of her in a hospital bed, on a ventilator with bandages covering a good portion of her. She looks so small in that one, almost childlike. Swollen and battered, her face has those butterfly bandages keeping the wound closed.
I haven’t read anything yet, I’m just taking my time looking at the before and after. The one thing that remains the same is the eyes. Her eyes are brown, like melted chocolate or caramel, with these long eyelashes that sweep her cheeks when she blinks. Her eyes carry a gentleness that instantly welcomes you, even when she is angry. Eyes that when they enter the room they instantly look for an escape, like they want to be anywhere but where they actually are.
Listen to me, I sound like a bitch. But all I can feel with this woman is a fierce protectiveness. I know that once I read these articles I will be seeing red, so I’m taking my time studying her features before I get to the nitty gritty. What’s odd is that looking at the old pictures are great, she was a knockout and I mean grade-a gorgeous and still is. But looking at the new ones gets my dick hard… hard enough to pound nails. The new pictures have an edge to them that wasn’t there when she was the cookie cutter gorgeous. Maybe a sadness? It makes me feel worse because who gets their dick hard on someone’s sadness?
Clicking on a link, I see that it’s a national news organization that has written an article about her. So this was that big of a deal, and I never heard of it. I don’t know if I was even stateside when it happened. Taking a deep breath, I start reading. Didn’t even make it out of the first paragraph without seeing red and wanting to snap my laptop in half. A few months ago, an inmate who was the leader of a gang started a riot at the prison Cori where worked. Cori got caught in it and paid a huge price, one that almost was life ending. Come to find out the inmate had an obsession with a different nurse but decided to take it out on her. I feel sick to my stomach reading this. She was raped multiple times by multiple inmates, bitten, beaten, and cut. When she was rescued, she was barely breathing and spent a few months in the hospital with the first few weeks on a ventilator.
By the time I’m done reading the first article I’m seething, but I can’t
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