Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 22

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Chapter 22
In Which I Lose the Kittens

Living in the basement of my grandparents’ house, I felt very isolated and alone. There was a beautiful feral white cat in the neighborhood, whom I fell in love with. I started feeding her.

It took weeks and weeks before she finally got close enough to let me touch her. On the third day, when she was a bit less on her guard, I scooped her up and took her in the house. 1 bath and a whole crapload of brushed out clumps of hair, she was free once more. I figured that she’d be just as wild and feral again after that. But she actually came right to me the next day, and we were fast friends from there on out.

I finally took her inside to become my pet, but I couldn’t yet quit afford to get her fixed… so she went into heat.

Edna let her out to get pregnant. Then she demanded that I get rid of the kittens. Either I got rid of the kittens and found them and the mother a home, or Edna would kill them all. They routinely killed puppies when I was a kid, so there was no doubt or question that she’d do it– she would.

I finally did find a local farm that would take them, but the cat ran away and abandoned her kittens. She tried to find me, but couldn’t.

I was horrified that I’d sentenced these kittens to death, and all because Edna let the cat out because “[The cat] wanted out,” so Edna let her out. Even though she KNEW the cat was now an indoor cat and that she was in heat and that she was going to get fixed in the next week. The vet wouldn’t do the procedure while the cat was pregnant.

Maybe it wasn’t deliberate, but I grew up with this vicious old woman. I’m pretty sure it was deliberate. She was like that, very vicious and spiteful.

I decided, then, to drive to Colorado. I knew of a place there where the guardrails didn’t go far enough to keep cars from getting around them and going into a major ravine. I drove that whole way, and finally arrived in the mountains. Then I found that special place. It was the right place for me to end my life, I felt. I drove around the guardrails, along the curve of the mountainside. The rails weren’t made to keep you from going around them– what sane person would? They were meant to keep people from going off of the edge of the mountain.

So I drove around it and followed the curve of it. When I saw the edge of the cliff, I picked up speed. A bit more speed. Then some more, bouncing and bounding on the rough ground.  Then I was airborne. I flew through the air, the scene flashing by in graceful beauty. The car flipped, and for a moment I dangled. I experienced a terrible fear then, but it subsided as the car righted itself. Slowly (strange how it seems slow in the moment and in memories, yet I know it wasn’t), the car flipped one more time. Once more, the dangling brought terror with it. But then I knew it was almost over. The car struck the ground and bounced.

Stillness and quiet fell. Water rushed by on my right side, a stream running past where I sat, dumbfounded, in my car. The engine purred, the only sound in the world besides water.

Then the floodgates broke. I roared and beat on my steering wheel. I think I hated God more in that moment than I even hated myself. I had been cheated, yet again. I was supposed to be dead or dying. It was absolutely foolproof. Nothing and no one could survive such a fall. My fury, my rage, my impotent helplessness was beyond anything I’d ever imagined I could feel. I screamed. I cried. I yelled myself hoarse, and kept weeping. I kicked; I raged at whatever cruel, capricious, monstrous Thing had prevented my death. Be it God or some stroke of peculiar scientific glitch.

Why? Why couldn’t I just die? Why force me to live, I asked. Not even the birds had an answer, just running water and the purring engine of my Omega.

He was watching me then. One of the Others. Then he turned and walked away into the woods.

I started driving down the ravine. I turned a corner and there was a road. I got on it and followed it until I found a gas station. There I asked for directions, and decided to visit the resort I used to work at again, since I wasn’t far away.

How ironic is it that my car survived, without even a scratch, a fall so far that it flipped twice in the air… but on the way back from the resort, I dodged a couple of deer and ate guardrail. At that point, my car was officially totaled. Yes, how ironic is that? Paying the piper, I guess.

I fixed it up enough to be drivable, and went back. I packed my bags while trying to act as normal as possible.

Then I did the unthinkable (to me). I over drafted my bank account, on purpose. And I ran like a total coward in the darkness of the night. I fled to Florida, where I found a job and a place to live.

It wasn’t over yet, though.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:22 pm

Posted in Chapter 22