Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 8

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Chapter 8
A New Beginning, For What It’s Worth

So then I went on to live with my grandparents. On the way ‘home’ to Kansas, I hid a bunch of my toys under the seat of their Ford LTD. It was a diesel. Yes, I know, stupid detail. Anyway, it was noisy, and I was boisterous, and my brother kept reminding me that we had to make grandma and grandpa hate us so we could go back to Bill and Ava.

It seemed as if he really wanted to go back. Personally, I was just afraid that they would find us and kill my grandparents. So I went along with his plans and schemes to try to get them to hate us.

Sadly, it worked very well. They did hate me. But they also taught Jacob to hate me. They blamed me for ruining their lives, and they told Jacob that his father wouldn’t take us because of me. So now I had ruined Jacob’s life, too– and now he knew it.

I had also ruined Annette’s life, though. She’d been as good as an only child, and now she was saddled with two demanding, behaviorally challenged siblings.

We were adopted-again- and become Jacob and Sandi again. For a while, I was Sandi R- and I was tormented horribly at school for it. Sadly enough, that was the least of my problems, because the whole entire town knew all about us. ALL about us, at least so far as my grandparents knew about us.

So they knew it was our fault that George and Edna were deeply in debt. And they knew that we’d been kidnapped and viciously abused. They knew I’d been sexually abused (BIG headlines).

Best of all, though, I was soon put into special ed because I had learning problems, behavior disturbances, and a speech impediment. I was considered retarded at first. My grandparents were told that I’d never know or accomplish anything. I’d never have a normal life. I’d always be stupid. The best they could ever hope for, for me, was that I might get state help living an assisted life.

I got a rare (at that time) diagnosis finally of autism. Low functioning. I had all the behavioral and sensatory issues that they see in autistics today. I still have some of them, but they’re certainly livable.

I also kept “seeing” and talking to dead people. I “saw” and talked to wood nymphs and fairies. I was too young and stupid to keep my mouth shut. Woe is me, when would I learn? Now, to make it clear, I understood that I was imagining it all. The thing is that I was often too accurate with what I would say about dead people– things I shouldn’t have known. Describing people clearly whom I’d never seen (technically).

I also kept predicting things. And this really, really, really upset Edna. She always hated me to begin with, but when I kept predicting things, she began to severely belittle and ridicule me. She would go into towering rages and call me things like, “whore, demon-possessed,” etc. She also made no attempt to hide the fact that she blamed me for them being poor now. She favored Annette by a wide margin. She favored Jacob, too.

Everything that happened, Jacob and Annette would blame on me. Not one single time did anyone ever believe me when I denied anything. I kept trying to run away, too. I was trying to escape to save their lives. There were several times that I saw Ava and Bill’s vehicle (but not who was in it). I saw the Other Man several times, talking often to Jacob. He always denied it. Jacob claimed there was no Other Man, and would often not even remember talking to me about it at all. Or maybe he just claims not to remember, but he had every earmark of someone who genuinely believed he was telling the truth.

Like everyone who has interacted with these Others, he explained him away. Never consistently, though. He always admitted to talking to someone, but his story of who it was would change if he was asked more than once. Trademark for what I’ve seen of interactions with the Others.

So these things combined made me try to get away in order to save my family, such as it was. It was all I had, and I wanted to save them.

Anyway, years passed, and I became confident that I had schizophrenia. The problem is that I don’t actually SEE anything that I “see.” I don’t hallucinate in the way that other people who have schizophrenia do. The only things that I ever saw that were concrete in appearance to me, and that I actually saw with my eyes, were the Other Man and the couple of times that I saw Bill and Ava’s car. Even then, I was able to admit that it might well not have been them.

The thing is, though, on those occasions, my grandparents claimed to have seen them, as well. And before I had said it.

I did finally see a psychiatrist. Well, over the years, I’ve seen a fair number of them. They’ve all disappointed me by ruling out schizophrenia. Sad as it might sound, I think I would have liked to learn that it was all a big delusion. All a lie, a farce created by a broken mind. Alas, I must rule that one out, as well.

It’s strange, the nearly constant search, the nearly constant need to find a way to make it all “not real.”

Going back to the story, though, George and Edna were Seventh Day Adventists. They, especially Edna, believed quite firmly in the “reality” of demon possession (and there I was thinking I was schizophrenic for imagining wood nymphs and ghosts). They had me exorcised six times over the space of a few years. Each time, I’d been making progress, and finally had begun to get myself together. But then I’d go and predict something or talk to someone about his or her dead relative and freak him or her the heck out…

And it was back to being strapped to a bed while people “laid hands” on me… and let me just tell you something. Being strapped down while people put hands on me?? Where do you think that took me? Now do you think I would freak out? Hell yeah I would freak right the hell out. Granted, they weren’t raping me, but they were terrifying me almost as much as the past events in which I’d been strapped down and beaten!

When I finally gave up and quit crying and struggling, they’d declare me “cured” and let me go.

After the sixth time, I learned to keep my damned mouth shut. I no longer told anyone about any of that. No way. And I tried to run away. This time, I didn’t care about them, I just wanted to escape. I got dragged back every time.

One of those times, I started bleeding from between my legs. There was so much blood, and it just wouldn’t stop. I hid in the barn and cried. I was sure I was dying, that I was going to bleed to death. And I didn’t know why. Why was I going to bleed to death? Why was I bleeding THERE of all places?

I’d finally gotten it… the Curse. Only while Edna had bothered to tell me that one day I’d get the Curse, she hadn’t bothered to tell me what it was or what to expect.

Samantha, god bless her soul, found me hiding in the barn and weeping as if the world were coming to an end. Not only had I been forced back to George and Edna’s house, but I was dying, and if Edna found me, I’d be bleeding FROM THE DIRTY PLACE like “the damned dirty whore” that I supposedly was.

By the way, I was a “damned dirty whore” because my brother routinely raped me, and I’d ceased to fight him off after he nearly broke my arm. I didn’t tell because he said he’d tell Edna that I was the one that instigated it, and that I WANTED it. I remembered what happened the last time I told, and besides, Edna would have believed him anyway. She always did.

So I was raped by my brother for years. And he, of course, denies that to this day. Even my grandmother knows… she KNOWS. And sure as shootin’, she blamed me. The whole time, she knew. She knew! And did absolutely nothing. Well, nothing but blame me. Rocky and Theresa had come with us from Bill and Ava’s house. He raped me, too. No surprise there, why wouldn’t he? He and Raymond were active participants in the Rituals. He had no reason to believe anything except that he had every right to me.

They were eventually sent away, they were more than George and Edna could handle. So were Jacob and I, but they wouldn’t give us up. Not because they wanted us– they didn’t. No, it was because they felt obligated.

And since they were poor, George soon went to driving Semi trucks, and we were left to run the dairy farm alone… with Edna.

And of course, to go to school. Where everyone hated me and belittled me. I did eventually get moved out of special ed… after they caught me reading Mobie Dick behind the bookshelves in the Library. Hiding, of course.

How did I learn to read if I was autistic as they thought? Well, Edna decided that she was going to teach Jacob how to read by using enticement. She started reading to him every night before bed. She allowed me to join them, even though I was supposedly too stupid to learn to read. Nice of her, I say. Took pity on the poor retard and let me listen in.

Then one day she grew “too busy” to read anymore. Jacob just gave up, but I wanted to know what happened next. I finally went off and started re-reading from the beginning… a slow, agonizing process. But thanks to my excellent memory, I could do it. And after what seems like a really long time, I figured out how to read… and since then, I have never stopped.

I taught myself how to talk, too. I listened to broadcasts of the News, and then I would remember how they sounded. And I’d go out and practice, over and over again, until I sounded like them. It was hard work, thanks to the Torus (bony protrusion) on the top of my mouth. Now, though, no one who talks with me can tell most of the time that I have proverbial oatmeal in my mouth.

Other than that, things were pretty “normal” there, if any part of my strange life can be called normal. I think it was a lot more of a “normal” kind of abusive situation. If that makes sense. They were pretty much just verbally abusive. Well, Edna was. George was usually nice, kind, patient… I don’t know how he ended up with that nutter, god help him. Not that he was an angel, he had his problems and issues. Just that they were a bit more normal problems and issues. He was just sort of “checked out” on the whole thing. Poor Edna, nutter or not, she really didn’t deserve to have everything dumped in her lap. I feel for her on that account.

From there, things got strange again, though. I was removed at age 15.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:38 pm

Posted in Chapter 08