Chapter 11

Erika's pov

The next few days passed in a blur of recovery and catching up. As Cat had promised, I was able to make up the few midterms I missed. My professors were surprisingly accommodating after my sickness, their attitudes markedly kinder. I suspected Cat had something to do with it.

After my last test, even Professor Whitlock, the most ruthless man I had ever met, told me, "Good job." It was so odd because he had never said one nice thing to anyone before!

Once I was on the mend, Cat helped me study. Well, more like forced me to study with her because apparently, I would "study too much," as if that were even a possibility. She was surprisingly a good teacher. I understood all the concepts and ended up with the highest marks on the tests I had taken so far.

Tomorrow, I have my last midterm. To finally be released from the shackles Cat has put me in, being condemned to the house, I planned to study at the library with Jessica and Calliope. Calliope was preparing for a completely different midterm, but she asked to tag along while we were working.

We worked together at the coffee shop, so after our shifts, we headed over to the library. The day started with the usual hustle and bustle at the café. Calliope and I worked seamlessly, sharing jokes and light banter to keep the mood lively.

"You know, if we get any more regulars, we might have to start naming drinks after them," Calliope joked as she handed a latte to a customer.

I laughed, wiping down the counter. "Yeah, 'The Professor Whitlock' – a double shot of espresso with a dash of bitterness."

Calliope snorted. "Don't forget the extra shot of condescension."

We continued to joke around, the lightheartedness making the shift fly by. After we clocked out, we grabbed our bags and made our way to the library.

"I can't believe how much work we have," Calliope said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Yeah, me too," I replied.

When we reached the library, we found Jessica waiting for us at a table, her books already spread out.

"Hey, you two," she greeted us. "Ready for another thrilling night of studying?"

We settled in, the atmosphere initially focused and studious. But it didn't take long for Jessica's curiosity to surface.

"Well I don't even know why you're here Erika," she began, her tone a mix of casual and probing. "Your little girlfriend will help you."

"What are you even talking about?" I asked, confused.

"You know what everyone's saying," She looked at me and is met with nothing but anger, "Catherine Barlowe's had many roommates all end up being her little girlfriends. Who knew she would go for a freshman in college." Jessica continued.

"What the fuck? I'm not her girlfriend, she's just my roommate." I shouted back. I felt an overwhelming amount of irritation. "Sure she helps me sometimes, but it's not as if I'm not smart and incapable of studying." She actually knows nothing about our arrangement, about me. The most she knows is my grade in pysch.

Jessica's expression turned smug. "Are you sure that's all? Does she not help you in bed too? Maybe that's why Whitlock likes you so much."

My temper flared, but I kept my voice steady. "You know what, Jessica? That's none of your fucking business."

"Oh, come on, Erika," she said, her voice dripping with insinuation. "It's just a bit too convenient, don't you think? Living with someone like her, getting top marks..."

I stared at her, my anger simmering. "You can shut the fuck up, because it seems like you know nothing about me."

Jessica's face reddened. "You don't have to get so defensive. I was just pointing out what everyone's already thinking."

"Well, maybe everyone should mind their own damn business," I snapped.

The tension was thick, but eventually, Jessica gathered her things, muttering something under her breath as she left. Calliope gave me a supportive smile, and we went back to our studies, the atmosphere decidedly more subdued.

As the hours passed, the initial anger ebbed away, replaced by a steely determination to prove Jessica and anyone else doubting me wrong. With renewed focus, I delved into my notes, blocking out everything but the task at hand.

Finally, Calliope broke the silent, determined state I was in. "Do you want to go out tomorrow? Josh's frat is throwing a party."

I hesitated, my mind flashing back to the last party I attended. The loud music, the chaotic atmosphere, and the feeling of being out of place among the throngs of drunk, rowdy students. It wasn't exactly my idea of fun, but maybe this time would be different. Maybe with Calliope there, it wouldn't be so bad.

"Yeah, that sounds good," I replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "What time?"

Calliope grinned. "Well, we can get ready in my dorm with my roommate and then go."

I nodded, but my mind was already racing. The last party had been a disaster. I felt like I didn't belong, constantly looking over my shoulder, feeling anxious and out of my element. I wasn't much of a party person, and the thought of enduring another night like that made my stomach twist. But maybe this time, with Calliope and her roommate, it would be different. I could blend in more, maybe even enjoy myself.

Still, a part of me wished I could just stay home, study, and avoid the social scene altogether. But I didn't want to disappoint Calliope, and maybe, just maybe, this party would be different. Maybe I'd finally feel like I belonged, even if just for one night.

"Okay, that sounds like a plan," I said, forcing a smile. "What time should I come over?"

"Come by around eight," Calliope suggested. "We can get ready together and head out by ten. It'll be fun, I promise."

I nodded, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. "Alright, I'll see you then."

As we packed up our things and left the library, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread. The pressure of the upcoming midterm, combined with the prospect of the party, weighed heavily on me. But I was determined to push through. I'd worked too hard to let anything distract me now. Besides, maybe stepping out of my comfort zone would be good for me. Maybe this party would be a chance to unwind, to let go of the stress, and to prove to myself that I could handle more than just academics.

As I walked back home, I resolved to make the best of it. I got home at around 2 a.m. Of course Cat was up, waiting for me. It lowkey pissed me off she did that, but it's whatever.

"Wow you're home late," Cat said, glancing up from her book as I walked through the door., "How was studying?" Wow what a great observation. This is our world renowned neuroscientist everyone. Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Yeah, it was fine," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Inside, I was still fuming from my encounter with Jessica and the overwhelming amount of work I still had to do.

Cat arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying my attempt at indifference. "Just fine? You look exhausted." She set her book aside and stood up, crossing the room to where I stood. "Did you eat anything?"

"Yes, I ate," I said, a bit more sharply than I intended. "I'm not five, I know when to eat. I'm going to go shower and sleep."

She gave me a bemused smile, clearly unperturbed by my tone. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

I shrugged off her hand, feeling a surge of irritation. "I'm fine, really. I can handle it." Cat sighed, her expression softening.

I crossed my arms, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. She studied me for a moment, her gaze steady and calm.

I looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a gentle hug. I tensed at this. When I was sick I was so susceptible to her touch, yet I don't feel the same now.

"Okay, I'm going to go shower now." I said as I moved from her arms.

"Alright, sweetheart," She responded, hurt in her eyes, "I'm going to go to sleep honey, come get me if you need anything." She put her hands on my head and placed a kiss on the very top.

I nodded and went straight to the shower then to bed, awaiting the next day. I've been having such a hard time sleeping lately. The exhaustion of being sick apparently made me really good at sleeping, but I can't even close my eyes at this point.

I contemplated sleeping with Cat again, but I shouldn't. She'll definitely see me as a child once more if I do. Plus I'll have to wake up early to ensure I'll be up before her so she doesn't force me to eat breakfast and upset my stomach.

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Catherine's pov

I woke up way after Erika had already left. I thought her class wasn't until 11 a.m. I planned to leave for work after I made her breakfast. She's been doing this a lot lately.

Ever since she came off of being sick, she started avoiding me again. She does her two hours, but right after it's as if I'm a stranger. It really saddens me.

I sighed, getting out of bed and heading to the kitchen. The empty house felt colder without Erika's presence. I made myself a quick breakfast, the silence pressing in on me. I missed our mornings together, even if they were brief and filled with her reluctant compliance.

After finishing my breakfast, I gathered my things and headed out. The drive to the lab was routine, but my mind kept drifting back to Erika. Her avoidance was like a splinter in my heart, a constant reminder that our bond was fragile and easily fractured.

At the lab, I immersed myself in my work. Today's focus was on a study examining the effects of breastfeeding non-biological children.

I pulled up the data from our latest experiments and began reviewing the results. The study was designed to explore the psychological and neurological effects of breastfeeding in adoptive families. We monitored brain activity, hormone levels, and behavioral responses to assess the strength and nature of these bonds.

The oxytocin levels, the neural pathways activated during moments of bonding – it all pointed to a deep, instinctual connection that transcended biological ties. But there were also variables that highlighted the challenges, the resistance, the fear of vulnerability.

"Morning, Dr. Barlowe," Dr. Reynolds greeted as he walked into the lab. "How's the research coming along?"

"Good morning, Dr. Reynolds," I replied, offering a small smile. "It's coming along well. I was just reviewing the latest data on the oxytocin response in non-biological maternal bonds, specifically through breastfeeding."

He nodded, glancing at the screen. "Fascinating stuff. Have you noticed any significant patterns?"

"Yes, actually," I said, pointing to a graph. "We've seen consistent increases in oxytocin levels during breastfeeding sessions, similar to biological mother-child interactions. But there's also a noticeable difference in the initial stages, where there's more resistance and slower progression in attachment."

Dr. Reynolds studied the data, his brow furrowing slightly. "That makes sense. There's an inherent challenge in building trust and emotional security in non-biological relationships, especially through such an intimate act. It's a testament to the resilience and adaptability of the human brain."

I nodded. "It's complex, but the potential for strong, meaningful bonds is definitely there. It just takes time and patience."

He smiled. "You're doing important work here, Dr. Barlowe. This research could have a significant impact on how we understand and support adoptive families."

"Thank you," I said softly. "It's a subject that's very close to my heart."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of data analysis, meetings, and writing up reports. Despite my efforts to stay focused, thoughts of Erika kept creeping in. I hoped she was doing well in her classes, that she was finding some semblance of peace and stability.

As evening approached, I wrapped up my work and headed home. The apartment was still empty, and I felt a pang of loneliness. I checked my phone, hoping for a message from Erika, but there was nothing.

I sighed, setting my bag down and heading to the kitchen. Maybe I could make something special for dinner, something that might entice her to spend some time with me. As I started preparing a meal, I thought about the research, about the complexities of building a bond with someone who wasn't biologically yours.

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Erika's pov

After I finished my shift and came home, the house felt eerily quiet. I walked into the living room and found Cat waiting for me with a warm smile.

"Hi, Erika. How was your day?" she asked.

"It was fine," I replied, setting my bag down. I knew what was coming next, and I braced myself for our nightly routine. "Can we start our two hours now?" I needed to have enough time to get my stuff ready for the party.

"Of course," Cat said, her eyes lighting up. "I was just about to run a bath. How about we take one together?"

I hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed, but nodded. "Okay."

"Okay who?" Cat said in a sing-song tone.

"Okay mommy." I said with annoyance coding my tongue.

She carried me to the bathroom and started filling the tub with warm water. As the water rose, Cat helped me out of my clothes and guided me into the tub. She followed, and I found myself sitting between her legs, leaning against her chest. It was both comforting and uncomfortable, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me.

"Here, let's get you cleaned up," Cat said softly, gently washing my hair and body. Her touch was tender, and despite my resistance, I started to relax a little.

Once we were both clean, she reached for a bottle of warm milk and brought it to my lips. "Drink up, sweetheart."

I took the bottle reluctantly, but the warm milk did have a soothing effect. As I drank, Cat hummed a lullaby, the sound vibrating through her chest and into my back. It was oddly comforting, and I found myself drifting off slightly.

But I had to stay strong, I couldn't even be the slightest but tired for the party.

Seated on a plush stool, I felt Catherine standing behind me, her fingers deftly working through my damp hair with a wide-toothed comb. Each stroke was tender, unraveling knots with a gentle precision that contrasted sharply with the distant memories of neglect from my own mother.

As she combed, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the soothing sensation. The rhythm of the brush through my hair evoked memories of a time long past, a time when such moments of care were foreign to me.

"There," Catherine murmured softly, gathering my hair into two sections. With practiced hands, she began to twist them into neat pigtails, securing them with small, colorful hair ties. Her touch was deliberate yet gentle, each movement a testament to her patience and love.

I watched her work through the reflection in the mirror, marveling at the transformation taking place. The sight of the pigtails framing my face brought a bittersweet rush of emotions. Gratitude mingled with sorrow for the maternal love I had missed, a love that Catherine seemed determined to provide.

"You look lovely," Catherine remarked, her voice tender as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her gaze met mine in the mirror, and for a moment, our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding and warmth.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling tears threaten to spill over. This simple act of caring touched a deep place within me, stirring emotions I had long kept buried. Yet I couldn't bring myself to fully embrace them, not yet.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper, my voice thick with unshed tears.

Catherine smiled gently, her hand resting briefly on my shoulder before she stood up. "You're welcome, sweetheart," she said softly, her tone filled with affection and reassurance.

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Catherine's kindness was a stark contrast to my past experiences, and it left me feeling vulnerable yet oddly comforted. But the ache of longing for a mother's love still lingered beneath the surface, a wound too raw to confront.

Cat's expression softened as she noticed the emotions I was trying to hide. "Is everything okay, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine," I said quickly, avoiding her gaze. "Just tired."

She seemed to want to press further but decided to let it go, luckily. "Alright. Let's get you some dinner."

I thought Cat was an amazing mother. She was so kind, so gentle, so amazing. If only I was a child. But I'm not, I'm a fully capable adult. That doesn't mean I can't lean into the comfort she provides, slightly.

We went to the kitchen, where a delicious aroma filled the air. Cat had made tebichi, my favorite dish. My stomach growled, but I didn't want to admit I was hungry.

"I already ate at school," I lied, hoping to avoid putting food in my queasy stomach. "I'm not really hungry."

Cat's face fell slightly, and I immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Oh," she said softly. "I made your favorite."

Feeling bad, I sighed. "Maybe just a little bit."

Her face brightened, and she brought a small portion to the table. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said, sitting beside me. "Just a little bit."

I took a few bites, savoring the taste. Cat fed me slowly, and I could see the sadness in her eyes start to fade.

"How is it?" she asked, her voice filled with hope.

"It's really good," I admitted. She was a better cook than my mother. It was delicious.

"I'm so glad." She said, "I searched for the best recipe, the most authentic." Times like these, Cat makes me feel bad for my constant resentment.

We continued like that, her feeding me small bites until I was full. Once I was done, she cleaned up and took me back to the nursery. She settled into the rocking chair, cradling me in her arms. I look up and her eyes are closed. I tried to rest, but I need to leave.

"Hey Cat, our time is over now and I need to go somewhere." I interrupted her peace.

"Okay, baby," Cat replied as she let me go, "where are you going?" I rolled my eyes. I don't need to tell her. I'm not her "baby" anymore.

"Somewhere." I told her. I didn't owe her anything. She doesn't have to know I'm going to a party.

Cat stood up from the rocking chair, "Honey, I just want to know so that I know you're safe."

I was about to exit the room, "Well it's none of your business," I held the door knob, "I'm not a child I can hold my own, I don't need you."

"Hey, that was not nice," Cat scolded, "does someone need to visit the time-out chair?"

I scoffed. Who is she? I fulfilled my time, I did everything right. "I'm going. Bye." I attempted to exit the room completely, but Catherine blocked the door.

"Hey what the fuck?" I shouted at her.

"Language? What has gotten into you my sweet angel." Catherine picked me up and I tried kicking and hitting her. Sure I looked like a child throwing a tantrum, but she was literally treating me like a child.

"I'm not your sweet angel you bitch." I screamed, Catherine's eyebrows furrowed with anger and sadness glossed her eyes and she placed me on that infamous chair in the corner of the living room.

"You're very correct, you're being a very naughty girl" Catherine had her hands on my shoulders to keep me in place.

"I should bend you over my knee right now, but we're both not in the right mindset for that," Catherine uses one of her hands to lift up my chin, "you will sit here until I say so, understood?" Catherine's stern tone made me fear the consequences.

As Catherine's words hung in the air, her expression was a mixture of sternness and a hint of sadness. She reached into her pocket, her hand emerging with a small, pink pacifier. The sight of it made my heart race and my eyes widen in shock.

"I'm not... I can't..." I mumbled, backing away slightly.

Catherine took a deep breath, her voice softening, "Erika, you need to understand that your behavior tonight was unacceptable. You need to calm down and listen to me. This is part of our agreement, remember? It's about finding a balance."

She stepped closer, the pacifier now in her hand, the rubber tip glinting under the dim light of the living room. "You can either sit here, use this, and calm down, or you can keep fighting and make this night worse for both of us. Your choice."

I gulped and nodded. I felt the sting of tears welling up again, the frustration and the fear boiling over. My resistance was crumbling. As she brought it to my lips, it felt awkward, childish, yet in fear of making her anymore angry I sucked on it.

Catherine stood up, giving me one last look before walking away. "I'll be back to check on you," she said, her voice firm yet tinged with disappointment. I glared at her retreating back, my anger simmering just below the surface. This was so unfair. I wasn't a child, and I didn't deserve to be treated like one.

As I sat there, my mind raced. I hated feeling like this—so helpless, so controlled. Memories of my mother flashed through my mind, her coldness, her indifference. Catherine was different, but in moments like these, it felt all too similar. I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

Minutes dragged by, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, Catherine returned, her expression softer but still serious. "Have you calmed down?" she asked.

I nodded, my anger now replaced with a sullen resignation. I attempted to spit out the pacifier in my mouth, but Catherine's finger pushed it back in.

"Uh uh, this stays in until I say so, until you can learn to use your words properly with no naughty words." I felt a wave of shame wash over me, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I nodded again, understanding that I had no choice but to comply.

Catherine knelt down in front of me, her eyes searching mine. "Erika, I know you're frustrated, but I'm only trying to keep you safe. I care about you deeply, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

With her kind words I couldn't help but have tears spill over. They were silent, but very much visible. I looked away, the lump in my throat and I of course the pacifier in my mouth made it hard to speak. "I just want to live my life. I don't need you to constantly treat me like a child. That wasn't in our agreement." Ironically I was speaking just like a child around the pacifier I wasn't allowed to take out, but it still didn't give her the right to when she wasn't "playing mommy" with me.

She sighed, her hand gently cupping my cheek. "I know, sweetie. But you were so angry. I couldn't let you leave like that. Last time you left like that you were underage drinking, and came home sick. Can we try to find a middle ground?"

I swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. "Maybe...but it feels like you don't trust me." I lisped.

Catherine nodded. "Honey I do, or I will. But you need to communicate with me, okay? And I don't mean cursing. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

"Fine," I muttered, feeling lingering frustration.

Catherine smiled at me warmly, but then proceeded to raise her eyebrow. "Next time you act in such a manner there will be more serious consequences. Understood little one?"

I nodded despite my better judgment. I guessed I wouldn't be going to that party. Ugh. I wouldn't be going to another party for a long time.

"Now come on, I want a big hug." Catherine opened her arms wide and I blushed at her sudden demand.

While still sitting on the chair I wrapped my arms around her neck and she held me for a long moment. The moment was silent and surreal.

She broke my mesmerized state by showering me in a basket full of kisses all over my face. I giggled at this. It tickled.

Catherine laughed and carried me. She spinned me around, making me laugh and smile even more. She set me down on the ground, "Oh there's those little laughs that I've missed so much."

I hugged her again, waiting to let her silently know that I love her. I was too embarrassed to say it outloud, but I did. Even though she made my blood boil, made me my most emotional self, I love her. She is like the mother I never had. No one ever cared for me like her.

She held me in her arms once more, "My little one is cuddly today, isn't she?" I blushed brightly and started to let go but Cat remained holding me, "No I love it, I love you." Cat said, making me squeeze her as tight as possible.

"Wow I have the strongest baby, huh?" I giggled once again at her remark and Cat picked me up and placed me on her hip.

"Now it's already 9 p.m. which is your bedtime." She said as she carried me to her room instead of the nursery, and I felt a bit of anger wash over me. I didn't need a bedtime, but I shouldn't argue tonight. I did too much yelling tonight.

Once inside, she gently laid me down on her bed and went to retrieve a bottle. She returned with a warm bottle of milk, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.

Catherine sat beside me, cradling me in her arms as she offered the bottle. I took it reluctantly at first, but as the warm milk filled my mouth, I felt my body relax. The rhythmic sucking and Catherine's soothing presence made me feel safe and loved.

"Good girl," she murmured, brushing a stray hair from my face. "You're doing so well."

I finished the bottle, my eyes growing heavy with each passing moment. Catherine set the empty bottle aside and gently rocked me in her arms, humming a soft lullaby. The combination of the milk, her warmth, and the gentle rocking lulled me into a peaceful state.

"Sleep now, my little monkey," Catherine whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "You're safe with me."

I felt myself drifting off, the last thing I remembered being Catherine's loving embrace. She shifted slightly, lying down beside me on the bed, and I instinctively snuggled closer to her. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close as we both settled into the bed.

Throughout the night, I stirred occasionally, but each time I felt Catherine's reassuring presence beside me. Her steady breathing and the gentle rise and fall of her chest were a constant reminder that I was not alone.