That's Ramona, there by the door.
Okay, let's talk to her.
Welcome to my party, I hope you'll be smart.
I think I'll go fix me a stiff drink.. I've had enough of this party already.
When were you last in London?
I don't know, 2 years ago?
Ah, that's what they all say.
I'm in Barcelona next. I like it there. Though it's seedy and cold in November and the natives aren't friendly. You get offered blowjobs in doorways in front of your wife.
Darling!
Remember the Caipirinha's?
How could I forget?
I forgot. I really don't remember.
If you could chose your last meal, what would it be?
I don't know, maybe some duck pancakes. Washed down with a glass bottle of Coke. I fell in love with that while fishing with my father at an American Naval base. Not long after that I think he tried to kill me. I don't know why he did that, I remember I was slipping away, smiling, I was feeling no pain. I often wonder why I was smiling. He stopped killing me suddenly. I don't remember feeling relieved, I only remember I felt no pain, what he was doing stopped hurting so I think I was close to the edge, the line between life and death. Now I realise that dying doesn't hurt after so long, the pain goes away, then you slip away. It's a nice feeling, it is peaceful That is why I was smiling maybe?
That smile of yours probably stopped him. My god what a total jerk he must have been. Do you remember what if anything he said to you? Was there any explanation? Was he on drugs?
He was silent, just staring at me, I smiled up at him. I didn't stop smiling. As if I were trying to say It's okay Daddy, it's okay to kill me, you created me... His eyes were black. He was the devil. I was in some kind of shock as I got to my feet and ran away from him and into the house never looking back. I hid in my room. Later that day there was a phonecall, he took that and quickly left. It was the last time I saw him. There was no explaination, he just vanished. I have never told anyone how he tried to kill me. I can't do that, not even now.
but he was gone, disappeared. I was okay with that. I didn't need to get up out of bed at night to listen to his conversations any more asking if he should get a knife from the kitchen and slaughter my sister and myself. I needed to know when to get her up out of bed and run for our lives. That fear has never left me. But at 7 years old, where do you run to? Into the arms of the police who would return you to this very sick and twisted man, and his friends, a band of paedophiles and predators who knew you were fresh meat and ripe for attack. Sleep was something seven year old me tried to avoid.
He threw the kitten in the fire. He would kick the dogs and leave us kids screaming in terror. He was a psycopath. Some things you can't unsee. I doubt he died a peaceful death, and I don't know where he went, but he will be amongst his friends for sure. And the skinned cat hanging by it's neck in the garage.And the school called him and said I was going through some kind of trauma, I was catatonic most of the time.
I remember a newspaper clipping years later. He had been arrested and put in jail. There was a body of a woman found by the water's edge. She had been battered to death. I did wonder if it was him, but there were no answers. In the end you stop asking. Because even as a child you know when people are lying. There is so much more to this story. Now looking at it, nothing was good back then. There were screams in the night. The ghost of a young girl being burned at the stake. Her screams would permeate the house as everyone slept, only I could hear her. The madness was tangible. And there was always something else.
What? What the fuck. I need a therapist..
The sound every night of an empty tin can being rolled down the driveway. I would hear it rolling, then stop. Then it was rolled down again. This would go on all night. Probably fair to say that as a young child it would terrify me. At times I could hear a child crying, at other times I would awaken in the night to find a man and a woman staring down at me as I slept, I don't know if they were real or imagined, but they were real to me. I was awake within a nightmare.
There was an announcement in the newspaper, the auction of all goods, including kitchen, bedrooms, lounges and children's toys. The toys part got to me. I'd only ever had one doll, and there she was, going up for auction never to be played with or held tightly by me again. A mere doll, I know but to me she was my only comfort. I told her everything. She collected my tears. I was more upset about the doll. The newspaper mentioned fraud and conspiracy charges but I don't remember the exact details.
So, many years passed by. And I'm alone in an office. The man in front of me is kindly and engaging. He left the room just for a moment...And the answers to so many questions were laid out in front of me.
Possesion of firearms. Impersonation of a doctor at the local hospital in an effort to obtain class A drugs, narcotics the list was endless. I think I stopped reading at attempted murder. My father was a certified psychopathic bastard. Now I knew who the man was in the vietnamese restaurant. He was my father's lawyer! A Jewish guy who I really couldn't relate to, imagine. He wanted me to be his mistress. I politely declined. He offered to buy me with me a diamond ring and a fox fur coat. The sports car would come later. He said i am a friend of your parents. Bullshit! I exclaimed! I was never side bitch material though. Love is my drug. The mate for life shit. No affairs. Not until much later in life anyhow when I became someone's lover, but that was an intense once in a lifetime chemistry, and it almost destroyed us both. I am a married woman. I stay married.
I'm wondering how you ended up in Paris. The first time you were on a private Jet registered to Malta.
I was working for a Middle Eastern family. My husband had diplomatic status. Our circle of friends had security guards and private jets, no one spoke English in front of me. Strange thing. I was pulled over by the Gendarmes in Paris. I asked them if they needed to see my ID, they said no, we know who you are. And then there's you. A General. So are you telling me you're not connected with me before I even knew you?
The Ninja's were tailing you back then. We are both looking for the same person.
The Arab. Well we'd better find him before he finds us. Any leads on that?
He was in Washington Heights.
Let's go there then.
Better load your weapon comrade. But tell me.
Tell you what?
Are we going back to the farm?
Oh yeah, they're going to throw the key down the drain. We will ask for an adjoining padded cell, you will keep me amused with your tales as our brain cells are picked off one by one by the government issue psycadelic drugs administered to us despite our screams of resistance!
My Grandfather was in the Resistance. I have a leather Nazi Trench coat.
Ooh, do you have the leather high boots to go with it?
Fancy some Cosplay?
Yeah sure, why not. But we have to make it out of here alive to begin with.
And off Hart Island.
And out of Bellevue.
That's fine, we are safe there, amongst all the mad men.
The walls are high, not to keep them in, but to keep the world out.
Yes, the madness is right here on the street
Or sat in a church pew begging for forgiveness.
And despite being constantly abused, she was not one to be defeated easily. She used her intelligence to outsmart her tormentors, finding clever ways to avoid their wrath and taking an alternative pathway to one day escape her miserable childhood.
As the years passed, her resilience and survival instincts only grew stronger. She learned to navigate the treacherous waters of her abusive home life with grace and cunning. Her beauty may have been marred by the scars of her past, but her spirit remained unbroken. And when the opportunity finally arose for her to leave her tormentors behind, she seized it with both hands, determined to forge a new path for herself.
And so, she set out into the world, a survivor of child cruelty and abuse, but also a shining example of strength and resilience. Her intelligence and beauty now shone brighter than ever, a testament to the power of the human spirit to overcome even the darkest of circumstances. And as she walked away from her past, she knew that she was destined for greatness, her story a beacon of hope for all who had suffered as she had.
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