Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

Just another site

Archive for the ‘Chapter 14’ Category

Chapter 14

leave a comment »

Chapter 14
When the Impossible Happens

I followed Alex to Denver. I went because I thought I had to go ‘save’ him. When I got there, I found out that I really was pregnant. But I still wasn’t concerned. Just because I got pregnant didn’t mean a thing. The chances of it lasting were slim to none… okay, none to slim. I didn’t know I was pregnant mostly because, in all honesty, I never had regular periods.

So there I was, with no job, in Denver. Living in a dive of a ‘hotel’ (and I use the word loosely) with Alex and his nasty buddy. Stupid. Yes, no need to tell me.

I looked for a job obsessively, but I made the mistake of admitting I was pregnant. I was living by the motto of “honesty is the best policy.” I didn’t realize I was shooting myself in the foot. In the meantime, I was struggling with first trimester exhaustion and excessive emotion. The best part of it all was that Alex was spending most of his time either out drinking with his buddy, or working construction of the Denver International Airport, or over at the hotel room of the local prostitute. Cheryl, by the way, would give him his threesome with his buddy.

She had a son; he was 23 months old and weighed 18 pounds. He wasn’t able to walk. She gave him cheerios and powdered milk. That was all he got for food. He was required to sit at all times. If he tried to crawl or walk, she would beat him. She hated him because “he ruined her figure” since she had to have a c-section to birth him.

I saw myself in that little boy in so many ways. I loved him so much; I grew completely attached to him. I babysat him for free when I wasn’t job hunting. I fear that by doing so, I didn’t do him any favors.

After a while, Alex kicked me out, barefoot into the snow. He did throw my shoes after me, though… eventually.

It was during this time that I saw the other Other Man. He was focused on Brice, Cheryl’s son. I never saw him interact with anyone, but I saw him watching. And I saw him go into her room at night sometimes. When he finally saw me noticing him, he either quit coming around, or he quit getting caught. It was almost as if he began tracking my movements. I never considered it at the time. It really didn’t mean anything to me. It’s only as an adult that I begin to realize that I saw the Other Men around people who were being terribly, excessively abused.

I saw him at the bus station before he disappeared and was replaced by another Other. He told me, “Sandi, don’t bother to tell anyone. They’ll never believe you.”

When I asked Cheryl about him and his visits to her room, she came up with various excuses why he was there. He was a John, or a buddy from ‘back East,’ or the plumber. And her story of who he was, was never consistent.
I also never considered until later that perhaps this was a delusion. Maybe the Other Men were products of schizophrenia. Sadly, I pointed one of them out to someone else, and she saw them, too. She didn’t understand the significance. I didn’t, either, really. I still don’t.

What characterizes these Others? I was watching the Fringe show, and I could say that they’re a lot like the Watcher in the Fringe show. Except that they don’t dress in black clothes. They’re not bald. They’re ordinary looking men in every way except for a few. They stand and watch. They keep coming back like stalkers. They interact with people who walk past them and greet them; in fact they seem very cordial. I’ve never approached one of them.

But there’s a quality of stillness about them. They come back over and over again to the same place, but while people notice them, even talk to them, no one knows their name or where they live or why they’re there. They also all tend to be extraordinarily ordinary. Very forgettable as far as facial features. I recognized them at the time, but I couldn’t describe them, none of them.

They’re consummately nonchalant. One hand in the pocket. Watching. Just watching. Average height. Average weight, somewhat athletic but not bulky. Age indeterminate, not young, and not old. They’re not remarkable in any physical way. But they radiate a certain sinister air. Others seem to be oblivious to it, except for a few. People who seem to be sensitive to it, unconsciously so, seem to migrate away from them.

The Other Man who was always at the Rituals was respected, but always left alone. Everyone gravitates away from them eventually. They stand in the same place for hours on rare occasions. Watching, or waiting, I don’t know.

Anyway, one was around Cheryl and Brice a lot, until I noticed him. I pointed him out, and Alex saw him. But he felt he was no big deal. Just another guy standing on the street. That’s the thing about schizophrenics. They see things that aren’t there. These guys were there. Others saw them. People greeted them on the street sometimes as they passed.

Even Cheryl remembered him. He was one of her clients. He liked it fast and dirty, she said, but he’d come at night and leave in late morning. Before she woke up, after the men had left. I dismissed my feelings and unease about him after she told me he was a client. A stalker, I decided back then. Individually, it didn’t mean anything.

Anyway, after I’d moved in with Bill (who was a monster to his wife and kids, by the way– a real alcoholic), Cheryl gave Brice to me for babysitting. And she didn’t come to get him back. For two weeks, I had him, without her even asking after him. Bill blamed it on me, but his wife diverted him from it.

I got the sweet little guy to walking. He was eating well. He was learning to walk, holding himself up on things. He was happy. He was learning and getting bigger and exploring.

Eventually, though, Bill started to threaten him. So I called CPS and reported him as having been abandoned. In the strangest stroke of idiocy I have ever seen in my entire lifetime, CPS called Cheryl and told her they were coming. Cheryl runs over, gets Brice, and runs out and buys a bunch of food. Because of my care of him over the last couple of weeks, he was in better shape, so the CPS worker declared there to be nothing to the accusations, and left.

I saw the Other Man one more time after that. He gave me a very direct, very speaking look, and then tipped his head at me, as if to acknowledge me. I never saw that one again. I’m not sure what he was saying with that tip of the head. It seemed sinister to me. Malevolent, smug. I don’t know if they cause it, or watch it, but they’re usually there.

I never saw Brice again, either. That sweet baby haunts my dreams to this day. And I think that I caused him more problems than I did benefit. I encouraged him to walk, something that his mother punished him brutally for. I encouraged him to talk and laugh and play… all punishable offenses. I called CPS who didn’t care at all. Who warned her and let her come get him before they went to see if he’d been abandoned or not.

What hope is there for that little boy? Like me, he was trapped. And I was unable to help him. I was helpless, and had to watch him suffer. No amount of wanting to help him made it possible. My heart was broken for him. Poor dear baby, and nothing I could do to help him. It was another low point in my life. I was pregnant, living in a sort of limbo with a violent man and his family, and I’d ruined yet another life. The relationship that I thought was a long term, committed relationship (yes, I was THAT stupid) had collapsed.

Then Bill’s drinking habit caused him to lose his place there at the hotel. I went with them when they moved to Ft. Collins, not very far from Denver. There, they moved into a tiny little camper that his in-laws owned. His wife came to me one night while Bill was on a bender and told me that he wanted me to come have sex with him since she was on her period. If I refused, she was to tell me that if I didn’t, he would come and “beat that bastard of Alex’s out of [me].”

I did something pretty amazing, if you look at my track record so far. I said no. I said that if he wanted to try, he could, but that I’d kill him first. And I meant it. Not in a mean, spiteful way, but in a “protecting my baby” kind of way. When someone else was at stake, I could find courage.

A couple of days after that, the mother-in-law approached me. She gave me a brochure of a place that took in young, single mothers, so long as they were going to have the baby instead of aborting. I was going to have my baby–if my body would allow it. So I took the out, with more gratitude than I can express. Another “angel” in my path.

First, I stayed with a family that thought I was lazy and useless and soon sent me back to the agency. Because I was so tired all the time that I could barely cope with life. Seems this is common for second trimester, but I didn’t know that. I agreed with them, I was lazy and useless, and I hated myself for it. But I couldn’t seem to get up the energy to care.

So after that family, I met Tony and Corenn and their two girls. These two precious people were a major high point of my life.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:33 pm

Posted in Chapter 14