[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

was useless. The fact that I was on a private island made that action
all too futile, I knelt under the full intensity of the sun. The
headache that was skirting just below migraine level was starting to
move to the next stage. It could have been the emotional upheaval
but I think it was more the fact that HE had slammed my head off
the metal headboard of the bed a couple of times then repeated it
on the metal pole in the bathroom. HE paused waiting to see if I
was going to keep struggling but I was tapped out, I just knelt there
panting. The strength in his lean muscles took most of my weight as
he hitched his hands under my arms and hauled me up, holding me
close until I could get my feet under me.
The world began darkening around the edges of my vision.
Maybe this it was more than a headache. I sagged. And as easily as
he did last night, he picked me up and carried me back into the cool
shade of the villa.
The re-surfacing memories of the river and almost being
drowned were still battering around in my skull, and butterflies
fluttered inside my chest. I don t recall ever being this easily
37
My Hostage My Love
affected by what was happening around me but this wasn t a normal
time in my life. Stress could blow everything out of all proportion.
And I was very stressed right now at not being able to make
sense of what was happening to me. I was afraid that my mind was
playing tricks on me, that this was all a dream or hallucination that I
would never wake up from.
And God, I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wake up and find I
was back in my old life. I didn t like this new life, sometimes I
couldn t remember what happened only minutes ago and that
scared me.
But then again, my memories had always been a little spotty
even before the bank robbery.
I remember that the state appointed psychiatrist who saw me
in jail before my trial said it was normal that I would have gaps in
my memory. I had been through a traumatic experience as a child
and I still couldn t handle it so my mind was handling it for me,
blocking the memory until I could deal with it. Adding this
 incident to my more recent assault was like trying to toss sand bags
down to hold back the rising flood.
The only problem was I didn t know how high the waters were
going. The psychiatrist said that my memory suppression was a way
of protecting myself from having a nervous breakdown. But just
like every good defense there is always a chink somewhere.
The psychiatrist had pointed out that there was a possibly of
getting swept away by a trigger  just like now. Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder, apparently I had been suffering from it since I was
a child and now my PTSD even more intense. He told me that
PTSD isn t as uncommon as one would think. And while memories
might be missing or repressed, those memories were still there and I
was going to have to deal with them someday or they would affect
me in one way or another until I did.
38
Derekica Snake
If this weakness and inability to stand up to Him was an
example of  one of the other ways , I decided I better get my act
together and deal with all the shit going on in my mind.
At the time I trusted that jerk off psychiatrist as far as I could
throw him but now it seemed that he might be right about some of
the bullshit he was shoveling at me during my so called treatment. I
remember how he introduced himself with a forced smile and after
handing me a box of crayons, how he said in a voice dripping with
false encouragement,  Let s draw our trauma.
It wasn t our trauma. It was my trauma. Drawing it no matter
who it belonged to, was crap, a waste of my time and his. In my
court ordered sessions, I stuck to the truth that I had already given
in my statements. He seemed only marginally competent at what he
did. Hell, though you couldn t tell by me, maybe he was actually
good at what he did for a living but artifice is an art form, the word
art is built right into it and he wasn t any good at artifice. His affable
manner was blatantly false. It grated and made me grit my teeth. I
could spot a liar and a fake a mile away which was why HE freaked
me out so much, He was neither. He meant everything he said and
did to me and it scared the shit out of me. He had to be either
totally deranged and incredibility dangerous because of it or what he
was deliberately doing this shit to me because he had a plan and I
didn t want to admit to either possibility.
I knew the psychiatrist was on the dime of the police, not there
for me. Oh, he did believe I was the victim of a brutal sexual assault
but he also believed that I was the  mastermind of that robbery. He
viewed it as a gang power struggle but it didn t matter how many
different ways he asked, he couldn t get the answer he wanted
because I was innocent of any crime. Hell, I hadn t even gotten a
parking ticket since I got my drivers license or been sent to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]