"Wait!" I said, wobbly-voiced, and Michael stopped, just in time for me to burst into tears - full-body awful face-hiding trembling sobs. "I'm sorry," I gasped over and over. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."
And he held me, and waited with me, and - only when he was sure I wanted him to - began again.
It was important for me to reclaim my body, to not have the last sex act be that. I didn't know if I was ready. He knew that my responses would be unpredictable. We were slow. Patient.
Later that evening, I had a smaller reaction. But we got me to the point when I didn't anymore.
We erased Judah from my body. We overwrote him. We did everything I had ever done with Judah and more, farther. New things.
We have overwritten him.