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Reality Check
Ending One: Anne’s Story
by Rebeckah
It took far too long for me to stop shaking and crying. I was almost ready to promise Raines anything, including my unborn children, if he'd just keep Lyle away from me. And it wasn’t the physical abuse that had terrified me; it was that final threat of rape that had opened the floodgates of a terror I couldn’t contain. I didn’t know why it frightened me so, and I didn’t want to know why, I just wanted to make sure Lyle never touched me again.
Finally, desperate to calm myself, I began reciting the Dojo Kun, rules of the dojo, over and over again. Those ten, commonsense rules for life did the trick. Of course I had to recite them for about ten minutes before I could even unwind my arms from my around my knees. Another few minutes and I was able to rise from the couch.
I focused on remembering my Sensei's face as I mechanically began dragging the furniture back into place. He had been a short, old, Japanese man with deep creases in his cheeks from years of smiling. and a no-nonsense personality. He had also been the first man in my life to treat me with unfailing, completely honest, respect.
He never let me give less than my best, always pushing me that little bit further than I thought I could go, but always in a gentle, supportive way. He'd never belittled or intimidated me, even though I knew that he had enough training to break me in half without even trying.
I carefully replaced every item of furniture exactly as it had been before my rearrangement, recreating at the same time, the early years of my karate training in my mind with dogged persistence. It was the only defense I had against the damage that Lyle had done to my courage---remembering how I'd built it up in the first place.
When the room was a perfect as I could make it I retreated to the bathroom and spent the better part of an hour under a shower with water so hot it left my skin lobster red. I finally emerged from the bathroom only to pull on the bulkiest and most unflattering of the garments I had to choose from and crawl into the large bed.
For remainder of that day and the morning of the next I remained in my bed, not daring to move from it except for brief forays to the small table to eat my meals. I spent the time finally coming to terms with the fact that I would never see friends or my children ever again. I had put that acceptance off, hoping that I wasn't really here but was in a hospital or mental institution somewhere. Later, of course, I was a lot more occupied with trying NOT to think---but coming up with far too many nightmare scenarios starring Lyle and Raines.
Now, I had time, the semblance of privacy, and it helped to take my mind off of Lyle's threats. I kept my mind on my children, their pain at my loss and all the things in their lives that I would now miss out on, during the days. I grieved, and said goodbye to them, and wrote them endless letters explaining why I’d vanished, in my head.
But at night my control was shattered and I relived each second of Lyle’s intimidation. I dreamed of him, of that particular threat and of other, more nebulous threats. Sometimes I knew Lyle was coming to hit me, or worse, and sometimes I simply knew that some shadowy, male figure was looming behind me, threatening me. Saying good bye to everything I'd ever known was easy in comparison to reliving those last few moments on the couch.
When I reached that point in my ruminations, I started working at carefully rebuilding my mask of detachment, aware that even with my best efforts the fear I tried to conceal shone out of hundreds of tiny cracks. Lyle had shattered the armor I’d constructed during my years of independence with the initial beating; retraining me in one brutal session to flinch and cringe whenever a man, specifically he, was near me.
During that second encounter, however, he'd threatened my very soul with filth. I knew that the only hope I had of surviving the upcoming days with my self-respect and integrity intact lay in shoring up the same instincts that had seen me through the years at the hands of an alcoholic father. I tried to remember my childhood, something that I’d avoided for more than 30 years, trying to reconstruct just how I’d defended myself then so I could do it again.
I had been young and helpless then. While I was no longer young, I was now just as helpless as I had been then---more, in fact. When I was a child I had to go to school and there were people who would know and care if my father went too far. Here I didn’t even exist. Raines and Lyle could do anything they wanted to me and nobody would ever know a thing. That thought only served to feed the monster of fear that I was trying to lock back away in my mind.
I changed into comfortable exercise clothing after lunch on that second day, my mental barriers as strong as I could make them, and started working on my physical strength. Once again I adapted my Katas around the space I had to work in, reasoning that the activity had been accepted in the tiny cell, so it would probably be all right now. I also worked out a supplementary routine of calisthenics, knowing that I had to be in the best physical condition possible to survive until I could somehow escape.
Finally, knowing that a strong mind was as important as a strong body, I planned out a schedule of mental exercises to stretch and strengthen my mind. I didn't dare write anything down on the pads to help my memory, so I began the routine with remembering as much as I could of a chapter in the Bible or a favorite book. Then I moved to songs, deciding that I would have to remember two songs, to the best of my ability, from start to finish. Each day, I would add two songs, but without dropping the ones before.
An added benefit to remembering songs was that I couldn't possibly sing the wrong notes without any voice, even though I had resolved to do everything else as though I could make sounds. And at the end of my mental calisthenics I would do a series of math problems, moving the difficulty level up until I reached the point where I had to resort to paper to keep track of the figures. I hoped that these plans would keep me stable during the mind numbing dullness that I faced every day, locked in a empty room with absolutely nothing to stimulate my mind but the fear that Lyle was returning for me.
Shortly after lunch on the third day a large, ape-like woman arrived right after breakfast and indicated that I was to follow her to the Centre gym. She waited impatiently while I changed into a fresh set of exercise clothes and pulled a loose T-shirt from the man's wardrobe over them. My hard won peace was severely shaken when I followed her into the hallway and Lyle detached himself from the wall beside the door.
Instantly my heart began to race and my breathing quickened. Lyle didn't miss the signs of panic, even though I managed, barely, to keep my face still.
"Hello, Eve." He purred ominously. "I'm so happy I could join you today, I've missed your smiling face. After our---stimulating---conversation a few days ago I've just been biding my time until I could visit with you again. Have you been a good girl?"
Nausea churned my stomach even as self-loathing for being afraid of just the sight of the man rose up and closed off my throat.
’Don't just cower there, girl! Stand up, show some gumption!’ My alter ego suggested acidly.
’Oh, no you don't!’ I answered back firmly, although the admonition had at least helped me to start breathing again. ’We don't want his attention, remember? We want him to go away.’
’Then you'd better stop being afraid of him because he's loving every moment.’
My alter ego got in the last word, but I didn’t notice as my terror redoubled when Lyle moved closer to me, enjoying my abortive flinch and the way I pressed back against the door in a futile attempt to avoid his touch.
Reality Check
Ending One: Anne’s Story
by Rebeckah
It took far too long for me to stop shaking and crying. I was almost ready to promise Raines anything, including my unborn children, if he'd just keep Lyle away from me. And it wasn’t the physical abuse that had terrified me; it was that final threat of rape that had opened the floodgates of a terror I couldn’t contain. I didn’t know why it frightened me so, and I didn’t want to know why, I just wanted to make sure Lyle never touched me again.
Finally, desperate to calm myself, I began reciting the Dojo Kun, rules of the dojo, over and over again. Those ten, commonsense rules for life did the trick. Of course I had to recite them for about ten minutes before I could even unwind my arms from my around my knees. Another few minutes and I was able to rise from the couch.
I focused on remembering my Sensei's face as I mechanically began dragging the furniture back into place. He had been a short, old, Japanese man with deep creases in his cheeks from years of smiling. and a no-nonsense personality. He had also been the first man in my life to treat me with unfailing, completely honest, respect.
He never let me give less than my best, always pushing me that little bit further than I thought I could go, but always in a gentle, supportive way. He'd never belittled or intimidated me, even though I knew that he had enough training to break me in half without even trying.
I carefully replaced every item of furniture exactly as it had been before my rearrangement, recreating at the same time, the early years of my karate training in my mind with dogged persistence. It was the only defense I had against the damage that Lyle had done to my courage---remembering how I'd built it up in the first place.
When the room was a perfect as I could make it I retreated to the bathroom and spent the better part of an hour under a shower with water so hot it left my skin lobster red. I finally emerged from the bathroom only to pull on the bulkiest and most unflattering of the garments I had to choose from and crawl into the large bed.
For remainder of that day and the morning of the next I remained in my bed, not daring to move from it except for brief forays to the small table to eat my meals. I spent the time finally coming to terms with the fact that I would never see friends or my children ever again. I had put that acceptance off, hoping that I wasn't really here but was in a hospital or mental institution somewhere. Later, of course, I was a lot more occupied with trying NOT to think---but coming up with far too many nightmare scenarios starring Lyle and Raines.
Now, I had time, the semblance of privacy, and it helped to take my mind off of Lyle's threats. I kept my mind on my children, their pain at my loss and all the things in their lives that I would now miss out on, during the days. I grieved, and said goodbye to them, and wrote them endless letters explaining why I’d vanished, in my head.
But at night my control was shattered and I relived each second of Lyle’s intimidation. I dreamed of him, of that particular threat and of other, more nebulous threats. Sometimes I knew Lyle was coming to hit me, or worse, and sometimes I simply knew that some shadowy, male figure was looming behind me, threatening me. Saying good bye to everything I'd ever known was easy in comparison to reliving those last few moments on the couch.
When I reached that point in my ruminations, I started working at carefully rebuilding my mask of detachment, aware that even with my best efforts the fear I tried to conceal shone out of hundreds of tiny cracks. Lyle had shattered the armor I’d constructed during my years of independence with the initial beating; retraining me in one brutal session to flinch and cringe whenever a man, specifically he, was near me.
During that second encounter, however, he'd threatened my very soul with filth. I knew that the only hope I had of surviving the upcoming days with my self-respect and integrity intact lay in shoring up the same instincts that had seen me through the years at the hands of an alcoholic father. I tried to remember my childhood, something that I’d avoided for more than 30 years, trying to reconstruct just how I’d defended myself then so I could do it again.
I had been young and helpless then. While I was no longer young, I was now just as helpless as I had been then---more, in fact. When I was a child I had to go to school and there were people who would know and care if my father went too far. Here I didn’t even exist. Raines and Lyle could do anything they wanted to me and nobody would ever know a thing. That thought only served to feed the monster of fear that I was trying to lock back away in my mind.
I changed into comfortable exercise clothing after lunch on that second day, my mental barriers as strong as I could make them, and started working on my physical strength. Once again I adapted my Katas around the space I had to work in, reasoning that the activity had been accepted in the tiny cell, so it would probably be all right now. I also worked out a supplementary routine of calisthenics, knowing that I had to be in the best physical condition possible to survive until I could somehow escape.
Finally, knowing that a strong mind was as important as a strong body, I planned out a schedule of mental exercises to stretch and strengthen my mind. I didn't dare write anything down on the pads to help my memory, so I began the routine with remembering as much as I could of a chapter in the Bible or a favorite book. Then I moved to songs, deciding that I would have to remember two songs, to the best of my ability, from start to finish. Each day, I would add two songs, but without dropping the ones before.
An added benefit to remembering songs was that I couldn't possibly sing the wrong notes without any voice, even though I had resolved to do everything else as though I could make sounds. And at the end of my mental calisthenics I would do a series of math problems, moving the difficulty level up until I reached the point where I had to resort to paper to keep track of the figures. I hoped that these plans would keep me stable during the mind numbing dullness that I faced every day, locked in a empty room with absolutely nothing to stimulate my mind but the fear that Lyle was returning for me.
Shortly after lunch on the third day a large, ape-like woman arrived right after breakfast and indicated that I was to follow her to the Centre gym. She waited impatiently while I changed into a fresh set of exercise clothes and pulled a loose T-shirt from the man's wardrobe over them. My hard won peace was severely shaken when I followed her into the hallway and Lyle detached himself from the wall beside the door.
Instantly my heart began to race and my breathing quickened. Lyle didn't miss the signs of panic, even though I managed, barely, to keep my face still.
"Hello, Eve." He purred ominously. "I'm so happy I could join you today, I've missed your smiling face. After our---stimulating---conversation a few days ago I've just been biding my time until I could visit with you again. Have you been a good girl?"
Nausea churned my stomach even as self-loathing for being afraid of just the sight of the man rose up and closed off my throat.
’Don't just cower there, girl! Stand up, show some gumption!’ My alter ego suggested acidly.
’Oh, no you don't!’ I answered back firmly, although the admonition had at least helped me to start breathing again. ’We don't want his attention, remember? We want him to go away.’
’Then you'd better stop being afraid of him because he's loving every moment.’
My alter ego got in the last word, but I didn’t notice as my terror redoubled when Lyle moved closer to me, enjoying my abortive flinch and the way I pressed back against the door in a futile attempt to avoid his touch.
