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The Truth in the Pain

Here's the thing... 


When I think about things, when i write my thoughs, I lay it all on the line. I don't care who reads it. I enjoy the comments of support on those eerily biased posts about relationships. 


If you're gonna treat me wrong, if you're gonna be an untrue friend (or lover), if you do something to me that YOU know you shouldn't, if you've done something I would imagine you would think I would be too embarrassed to talk about... you should know right away that it won't remain a secret. There is NOTHING so sacred. 


I once had someone try to blackmail me with some horrible stuff I never wanted anyone in the world to know about. When blackmail didn't work, he resorted to sending this blackmail evidence to my boss at the time. Bill would no doubt remember this, as it's a massive zone of contention for us both. Eventually it drove a wedge between us and I quit my job there. But what did I do about the blackmailer?  


Oh, I fixed it. 


The blackmailer was an officer of the law in Scotland, a member of the Strathclyde Police Department in Hamilton, Scotland. Not only did I send the evidence of blackmail to HIS superior officers, but I added the entire backstory I never thought I would share with a living soul. I told the tale from the very beginning to the very end; all the horrible, gut wrenching details I never wanted to even face, much less confess, in an email that took me days to write. I did it alone. I suffered through tears. I fought the urge to quit the fight and walk away. And I have no idea what happened on the other end. I don't care. I know Karma will take care of everything eventually. You reap what you sow. 


So what happened? 


It's not a story I care to reiterate, and refuse to do so publicly due to the graphic content and nature of event(s) but - since I said it earlier, I share everything, I think it's about time. 


I didn't think I would do this, and I'm quite surprised I am doing this now in my sleep deprived state, but I'm too strong to let some scum from the other side of this blue planet rule my thoughts or emotions. Part of the reason I struggle so much with trust, relationships, heartache, lies, false promises and so so much more can probably be attributed fairly to everything I have been through in my past, but nothing, and I mean NOTHING could prepare me for what happened in Scotland. 



If you don't like drama or negative things, or if you'd rather you not know, please stop reading here. This is not for the faint of heart, and it's far more evil than you could possibly imagine.   It's a story of torture, the likes of which you've probably never known someone to go through. Please do NOT pity me. The reason I'm sharing it is because I'm strong enough to. Pity his daughter. Pity the other victims, unable to share their tale. Pity even his family, as they will someday learn all about it, I'm sure... if they haven't already. Pity those who need it. I do not. 



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Basically I was held captive, broke and broken, too poor to leave, too trapped to walk out, screamed at, told lies, fed false promises on an aluminum spoon - and raped. I was forcibly raped not once or twice, and not by one person. He held me there, and against my will, forced me into acts I did not wish to be a part of with multiple people - men and women.  Food would be withheld. I would be denied a chance to leave the house. I would undergo emotional tortures like you wouldn't believe, isolated in a foreign land with no friends but the ones HE gave me, who would believe nothing evil of him. Locked away, day after day... Basically, I was a slave. 


At first I thought I deserved it. Towards month two I tried to leave and couldn't.  At month three my best friend was a tombstone in the ancient cemetery, where I would sit alone to have better company. By month four I was ready to jump off the platform at the Bellshill train station. At month five I had renewed hope and a mission. I had to deceive my captor into thinking Stockholm Syndrome had fully taken hold (and believe me, it had begun to..) and that I would return after my trip back to California. I still have the return airline ticket in my shadow box, as well as a formal letter of investigation from the Strathclyde police. They live in my shadow box as a reminder that I am a strong person. I rise above the pain. I rise above the evil in this world. I do what I must in order to survive, no matter how much it hurt to do so. I fought back!! 



And the blackmail evidence I spoke of? 

PHOTOS. 

Pictures of me in those compromising situations, being raped over and over and over, forced to do the unspeakable


Imagine what that must have been like...


Tears fill my eyes as I write these words. Tears of anger, hatred, malice, pride, conviction, strength.....


So, yeah. Do me wrong, and I will rise above all else to not only tell the world what you did to me, but to point the finger at the bad guy and call it like I see it.  Sometimes I can do it the next day. Other events take more than two long years, but it always comes out in the wash.