Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 7

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Chapter 7
Learning My Place

A couple of other little things I remember. Rocky found the puppies. He took sticks and one by one shoved them into the puppies’ behinds. He laughed while they screamed. I hated him then, and honestly, I still do. I was too afraid of him to fight him over it, but I ran to tell on him. When they found the puppies, they put them down because the sticks were literally in there to a damaging degree.

I’ve heard often of other male mind control victims being made to do this. It is a way that they are conditioned to no longer feel compassion.

Rocky blamed my brother, and Bill and Ava believed him over me. He was, after all, a boy. And all girls are liars; everyone knows it, don’t they?

At one point, Ava saw me all red and swollen between my legs. It was after Bill had sexually assaulted me in the den– it was his favorite place for our little “lovemaking sessions” as he called it. I tried desperately not to tell her. But she threatened to kill me, so I told her.

She accused me of lying and put ice in the tub water. I was once more forced to sit there, this time with her beating me as well and calling me a lying whore. She also went on to burn my breasts with a curling iron, and then she jerked me out of the water and shoved it inside me. Plugged in and heated up.

Of course, I suppose I could continue to relate the abuses, but I think the idea is pretty clear. There was a fair degree of brutality and sexism and much was done to all of us children there. Sadly, I can state that I had the questionable honor of being one of the worst treated. I believe that’s directly related to who I was… the daughter of the woman Ava so deeply hated, and granddaughter to another one that she deeply hated and resented.

This, I believe, made me even more of a target than anything else.

One day, though, one of my fondest memories was acquired. I didn’t know it at the time, but I met the private investigator that my grandparents had hired. He asked me questions that the police hadn’t asked me. But he earned my trust and got me to talk to him by drawing with me. This was new to me. He drew Donald Duck, and Mickey Mouse, and various other cartoon characters. I didn’t care much about them, as I’d never seen them before.

Then he asked me what I might like to draw, and he taught me how to draw an anteater, at my request.

How I loved that anteater! I would squat outside in the dirt and draw endless pictures of an anteater. I wanted to make one as good as his! That fellow lives on in my memory. I don’t know where he is now, any more than I know where that shopkeeper is. But I remember how awesome he was, and how he instilled in me a love of art. Thank you, sir.

It was throughout this time that we’d begun moving around. I don’t know how long it was that they did that, but they did. They ran to Oregon first. There, Bill did logging. I actually remember the forests really well, and living here in NH is vaguely reminiscent of them. In a good way. I don’t know why I have a positive feeling about that area, except that I’m pretty sure that much of the abuse stopped.

Maybe it’s where I saw the movie GUS at school, too. Another of my fond memories. How great is that movie? Really great, if you’re a kid with little in life to love, I guess. I own it again now, got it less than a year ago.

Anyway, I should note that another reason why I think moving around might have been positive for me is that I stopped seeing the Other Man. He was only there before the rituals, and in some rare cases, like the pond incident. I don’t remember his face, and I quit seeing him after my grandparents got us from Bill and Ava.

I’m not good with remembering faces anyway, but his seems especially evasive. I think that I associate him strongly to these negative early events. I also associate him with another negative later event, but we’ll get to that in due time.

Anyhow, my grandparents, after an exhaustive search, finally got Jacob and I away from Ava and Bill. We were in foster homes for a while. I’m told it was a year, but records seem to indicate less time. Regardless, it was also a horrific time, full of abuses and strange encounters with the Other Man. I would see him on the streets. He would come and visit the homes, like he was a social worker, or something. It was like he’d found me again when my grandparents did.

He, though, never directly did the abuses. He would stand and watch some of them, like the incident where my arm was held against a wood stove, and one where I was stabbed in the leg. But that’s all he did, watch and talk to the foster parents. He was often displeased with me and with them.

It was during these events, and during a couple of my NDEs, that I heard about me being unsuitable as a candidate. They never specified, but they were talking to each other, so obviously didn’t need to.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:40 pm

Posted in Chapter 07