Todestrieb
Her face was paper-white and haggard when I came in to see her today. She sat huddled deep in a chair, looking at me with the round eyes of a frightened animal. But wonderful, brave thing that she is, she still managed to tell me off with the last of her defiance,
"If we repeat what happened last time, I won't survive. You can't do that to me again."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Today will be much easier for you."
"It will?"
"Tell me, Anna, have you ever been hypnotized?"
You don't exist except in the question. You contemplate the question and all the things that the question touches. That is all there is. It's effortless, really, answering a question to which you know the answer. Your voice is strong, even, easily telling the truth that you know so well.
A voice has just asked you to describe what happened the first time Uncle Frank snuck into your bedroom.
"It was summer. I was seven years old. Uncle Frank was staying with us because he was writing a book that took place in Boston. He liked me a lot. He always told me I was pretty and brought me my favorite candy, even though Mom didn't want me to have it. He came into my room. I was sleeping. He woke me up by touching my face. He told me I was pretty. He also said I was an angel. He stroked my hair and it felt good. He said that there was nothing wrong with feeling good. Then he pulled back the covers and started to rub my tummy, which made me giggle. He giggled too. Then he put his hand down lower and he asked me if I ever touched myself there. I told him that Aunt Fiona got real mad at me once when she caught me doing that on her living room couch. He laughed again and said she was stupid, which made me happy because I hated her. Then he started rubbing me down there and asking how it felt. At first I couldn't answer him because no one had ever asked me that before. Then I said that I thought it was nice. He agreed that it was nice. He kept rubbing and rubbing until I had an orgasm. I had had them before, but never in front of anyone. I felt embarrassed, but he said there was nothing wrong with that either. He said it was the most beautiful thing in the world, but that we were the only people who knew it, so we couldn't tell anyone our secret."
"When did he come again?"
"A few days later. He shook me awake and his face was all puffy. He asked me if I wanted to have fun again and I said yes I did. He said he had something new to show me. He pulled back the covers like he did the first time. But this time he pulled my pants all the way off. He touched my vagina again. He rubbed it and tickled his fingers around inside a little. Then he pushed me up toward the head of the bed. He was excited and kind of rough. He didn't seem to notice when I hit my head against the bedpost. He lay down on his stomach and he pulled the cover up over him and over me. He pulled it back for just a second to make his silly monster face at me. I giggled, but he said I couldn't giggle or we wouldn't be having any more fun. I wanted to have fun. When I first felt that he was licking my vagina, I couldn't believe it. I told him that my vagina was dirty. He said that it wasn't dirty, that it was the most beautiful thing in the world and that it tasted good too. He reached his hand up and told me to taste it. I did and I thought it wasn't that bad, but I couldn't understand why he liked it so much. He kept licking me and licking me. It felt so good, like nothing I had ever felt before. This time when I came, he bit down on me. I screamed and he slapped me in the face. He told me that I had just ruined everything and that next time, no matter what happened, I would have to be absolutely silent. If I wasn't silent, then I would be very sorry."
"Did your parents suspect anything at this time?"
"No, but I remember I started acting up a lot. I thought then that I hated them because they didn't want me to feel good. I wished that Uncle Frank would take me away so we could just feel good all the time."
"What happened the third time?"
"He came in like he had the first two times. He woke me up by kissing my mouth and I remember thinking that his breath smelled bad. He stroked my hair a lot and said all the usual things about how pretty I was and how I was an angel and he wanted to make me feel good because I was so perfect. This time he took his own pants off first. He wasn't wearing any underwear. I had seen my brother's penis before, but Uncle Frank's was different because it was pointing up toward the ceiling and he was touching it a lot. I asked him if touching himself like that felt the same as when he touched me. He said I was such a smart girl. Then he sat down and told me I should touch it too. I thought it was sort of weird and funny-looking so at first I didn't want to touch it. But then he told me that this made him sad because he wouldn't feel good if I didn't touch it. He said it wouldn't be fair if I was the only one who got to feel good and that I was being selfish. I didn't want him to think I was bad, so I started rubbing it the same way he was rubbing it. He started moaning and telling me what a good girl I was and that I deserved to have even more than I had gotten before. He asked me if I was ready for the best thing ever and I said yes I was. He said ok, but I couldn't make any noise or it would stop feeling good and he wanted to feel good. I wanted him to feel good too because he had been so nice to me. He took off all my clothes and got into bed with me. He pulled up the covers and started rubbing me again and told me I should rub him at the same time. We did this for awhile. Then he rolled on top of me. He held himself up with one arm and started moving his penis with his other hand so it hit up against my vagina. Then he said a bad word and got up and opened up a bag he had brought with him. He took out a couple towels which he put underneath me. I wanted to ask him why he did that, but he put his finger to his lips and got back in bed. Then he took his penis and "
"Stop."
You shake your head, looking around the familiar office, wondering what has just been going on. You feel that something strange is happening. Then you see him.
Dr. Morton is doubled over the trashcan in the corner vomiting violently. His face is red and though you can't quite see it clearly, you think he is crying. A lot. He moans, clutching his stomach as the sickness rolls over him again and again.
Finally, there is silence in the office. The air feels stale and heavy, and when Dr. Morton finally turns around to face you again, you have a strange sensation like decades have passed, his eyes are so haggard and his face paper-white
"If that happens again," he tries to say, but it comes out as only a whisper, "I won't survive. You can't do that to me again."
"If we repeat what happened last time, I won't survive. You can't do that to me again."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Today will be much easier for you."
"It will?"
"Tell me, Anna, have you ever been hypnotized?"
**********************************
You don't exist except in the question. You contemplate the question and all the things that the question touches. That is all there is. It's effortless, really, answering a question to which you know the answer. Your voice is strong, even, easily telling the truth that you know so well.
A voice has just asked you to describe what happened the first time Uncle Frank snuck into your bedroom.
"It was summer. I was seven years old. Uncle Frank was staying with us because he was writing a book that took place in Boston. He liked me a lot. He always told me I was pretty and brought me my favorite candy, even though Mom didn't want me to have it. He came into my room. I was sleeping. He woke me up by touching my face. He told me I was pretty. He also said I was an angel. He stroked my hair and it felt good. He said that there was nothing wrong with feeling good. Then he pulled back the covers and started to rub my tummy, which made me giggle. He giggled too. Then he put his hand down lower and he asked me if I ever touched myself there. I told him that Aunt Fiona got real mad at me once when she caught me doing that on her living room couch. He laughed again and said she was stupid, which made me happy because I hated her. Then he started rubbing me down there and asking how it felt. At first I couldn't answer him because no one had ever asked me that before. Then I said that I thought it was nice. He agreed that it was nice. He kept rubbing and rubbing until I had an orgasm. I had had them before, but never in front of anyone. I felt embarrassed, but he said there was nothing wrong with that either. He said it was the most beautiful thing in the world, but that we were the only people who knew it, so we couldn't tell anyone our secret."
"When did he come again?"
"A few days later. He shook me awake and his face was all puffy. He asked me if I wanted to have fun again and I said yes I did. He said he had something new to show me. He pulled back the covers like he did the first time. But this time he pulled my pants all the way off. He touched my vagina again. He rubbed it and tickled his fingers around inside a little. Then he pushed me up toward the head of the bed. He was excited and kind of rough. He didn't seem to notice when I hit my head against the bedpost. He lay down on his stomach and he pulled the cover up over him and over me. He pulled it back for just a second to make his silly monster face at me. I giggled, but he said I couldn't giggle or we wouldn't be having any more fun. I wanted to have fun. When I first felt that he was licking my vagina, I couldn't believe it. I told him that my vagina was dirty. He said that it wasn't dirty, that it was the most beautiful thing in the world and that it tasted good too. He reached his hand up and told me to taste it. I did and I thought it wasn't that bad, but I couldn't understand why he liked it so much. He kept licking me and licking me. It felt so good, like nothing I had ever felt before. This time when I came, he bit down on me. I screamed and he slapped me in the face. He told me that I had just ruined everything and that next time, no matter what happened, I would have to be absolutely silent. If I wasn't silent, then I would be very sorry."
"Did your parents suspect anything at this time?"
"No, but I remember I started acting up a lot. I thought then that I hated them because they didn't want me to feel good. I wished that Uncle Frank would take me away so we could just feel good all the time."
"What happened the third time?"
"He came in like he had the first two times. He woke me up by kissing my mouth and I remember thinking that his breath smelled bad. He stroked my hair a lot and said all the usual things about how pretty I was and how I was an angel and he wanted to make me feel good because I was so perfect. This time he took his own pants off first. He wasn't wearing any underwear. I had seen my brother's penis before, but Uncle Frank's was different because it was pointing up toward the ceiling and he was touching it a lot. I asked him if touching himself like that felt the same as when he touched me. He said I was such a smart girl. Then he sat down and told me I should touch it too. I thought it was sort of weird and funny-looking so at first I didn't want to touch it. But then he told me that this made him sad because he wouldn't feel good if I didn't touch it. He said it wouldn't be fair if I was the only one who got to feel good and that I was being selfish. I didn't want him to think I was bad, so I started rubbing it the same way he was rubbing it. He started moaning and telling me what a good girl I was and that I deserved to have even more than I had gotten before. He asked me if I was ready for the best thing ever and I said yes I was. He said ok, but I couldn't make any noise or it would stop feeling good and he wanted to feel good. I wanted him to feel good too because he had been so nice to me. He took off all my clothes and got into bed with me. He pulled up the covers and started rubbing me again and told me I should rub him at the same time. We did this for awhile. Then he rolled on top of me. He held himself up with one arm and started moving his penis with his other hand so it hit up against my vagina. Then he said a bad word and got up and opened up a bag he had brought with him. He took out a couple towels which he put underneath me. I wanted to ask him why he did that, but he put his finger to his lips and got back in bed. Then he took his penis and "
"Stop."
**********************************
You shake your head, looking around the familiar office, wondering what has just been going on. You feel that something strange is happening. Then you see him.
Dr. Morton is doubled over the trashcan in the corner vomiting violently. His face is red and though you can't quite see it clearly, you think he is crying. A lot. He moans, clutching his stomach as the sickness rolls over him again and again.
Finally, there is silence in the office. The air feels stale and heavy, and when Dr. Morton finally turns around to face you again, you have a strange sensation like decades have passed, his eyes are so haggard and his face paper-white
"If that happens again," he tries to say, but it comes out as only a whisper, "I won't survive. You can't do that to me again."