G - Grief

The shock stopped me from thinking for a moment. I could not fathom the rest of my life, ABDL wise and not. How would I justify to my mother the diapers she had found in my bed ?

Did my sister know as well ? I felt my eyes watering, but I did not want to cry. No, I wanted to run.

I ended up hollow going down from my loft bed. I went to the bathroom without even realising it. I locked the door. I took the little plastic step and sat on it. Gazing  in the emptiness in front of me, nothing was happening in my head. I eventually got up, my face just as ashen as before. After a good 20 minutes only to brush my teeth and to put my pyjamas on, I went to bed and stared at the ceiling. When I thought about it, my mother had been a bit silent in the car. I had put it on tiredness. My stomach squeezed thinking that she would be distant with me for the rest of our lives. My sister was watching TV when we came back. It was late, so we did not talk much but she seemed casual.

My sister entered the room shortly after. She asked me about my trip, told me the little stories that had happened during the week. I calmed down a bit. Either she knew nothing or she had decided to act as if nothing happened. I did not know which option I liked best at this moment.
We finally fell asleep. I woke up several times that night, covered in sweat. I was waiting for the sunrise and worried about it at the same time.

In the morning, I got up early and went to the living room. I was the first one awake. To be back in my well known universe gave me some comfort. My mother joined me at last. She came to kiss me.

“You early bird. How about we go to the bakery for croissants ?” 

Croissants were a pretext so we could have a discussion on our way, I was sure about it. That idea gave me cold sweat, but there was no way of refusing.
She left a note for my sister on the kitchen unit. I still see her closing the door behind us. The weather was warm, yet I was shaking. We walked a few moments in a silence that compressed my chest. Then she asked me questions about my holidays and talked me through the following weeks planning. On the way back, she put an affectionate hand on my shoulder. I was as stiff as a ramrod. Tears came to my eyes. Some escaped on my cheeks. A discreet wipe with my sleeve cuff hid it well enough.
We arrived back home. My mother opened the door again. My body took a few seconds to get in. She had not said anything about the diapers. 

My sister had put the TV on. I joined her on the couch. The broadcasting show could have been amateur porn that I would not have noticed. I only wanted to be near her. We ended up sitting at the table for breakfast even though my guts were still in knots. There would be… nothing ? Not a word ? Not an allusion ? Not a disapproving glance ?

All the ragging I imagined would not happen ; So much the better. Still, I did not feel relieved. That silence was a negation. It meant my nights in diapers during the past months did not exist. It meant giving up something that made me happy. It meant denying my diaper girl desires. It meant rejecting part of who I was. Due to my youth, my fear of conflicts, my shyness, that silence, I yielded to it. It became a hidden place of grief that would be my shelter.

For a long while.