his to consume

Something unexpected happened yesterday. A streak of dark blue crossed my vision, and I turned my head to watch it pass. It was a truck, his truck. It could not be true – he told me months ago that he was leaving the state for work. I was relieved, then, that he would be leaving my metaphorical “backyard” and moving far enough away for me to put distance between myself and my memories of him.

It could not be, and yet it was. It was unmistakable… even down to the color of the license plates. Why was he still here?

Out of curiosity, when I came home, I went digging for more information. His FetLife has not changed for over a year. His CollarMe is another story. I am not exactly certain why I feel the urge to check in; my suspicion is that I will continue to feel it for as long as I have access to the information and the fear that it will affect me negatively.

From what I gathered, I learned that his moving dates had changed – all of this time that I have felt safer thinking he was not around he was still only a mile away. Close enough to touch.

What I read did not match up with what I saw. If what he has written is true, he has been gone for more than a week, now. What did I see driving past me as I waited for my bus? I had begun to let go of him – I have not checked in on his profiles for months, and he has not been in my waking thoughts much, except when I am actively purging him from them – and now I fear a resurgence of my former Daddy in my idle thoughts.

Whatever it was that I saw, an unsettling feeling started to surface from within the remaining parts of me he still has power over.

I read up on him. I did not like what I read on his profile, specifically, a renewed interest in abduction/hostage scenes which we had discussed but he had never seemed to publicly post as an interest. I suppose what bothered me most of all, was that he had reopened his dungeon, after several months of what seemed like absolute inactivity.

I am torn. He may be gone, yet I am still unsettled. He will be seeking other girls to play with in his new city. He will be an unknown, again, in a sea full of shiny, new fish. What happens to them? I’m afraid of the answer, but at the same time, I feel compelled to keep asking myself the question. It should not feel like my burden, after all of this time. I should not fear for the next girls who will (and likely have already) become his – his to frighten, his to own, his to consume.

When will it end? What can I do to dissolve the fears?