I know someone has me in their hands, I know I'm being held and squeezed, and I hear all the sound in my room.
There's yelling, and crying, and talking, and begging, but I don't care. They can't make me hear this. They can't make me feel this.
“I'm a little whore... lying on the floor... ripping, burning sore... always hurting more... fucked and fucked some more... suzanne the little whore...” OH!
Opening my eyes, Mack is talking to me, and Z is holding me, and Kayla is hugging other Kayla, and 2 different doctors are moving around the room looking at me. But the silence in the room is so loud in my head; I don't know how to silence the noise.
There is so much sound, but I understand nothing. I have only my song in my head.
I hear my little girl voice again on the billiards-room floor. My vision is blurry and my body is bloody and sore. And I don't know how to stop this anymore.
So opening my mouth, I scream as loud as I can until finally the painless darkness engulfs me.
CHAPTER 18
JUNE 5
I remember from before the beautiful song “I'm in here” by Sia. I remember every word I heard but I didn't know then I would feel the song as I feel it now. That song is my song in this moment. If I could thank Sia for her words, I would. I would tell her she sang my exact thoughts. Her words, to her beautiful song are my exact words in this moment.
Oh, god… I'm just so sad. There is too much to think and feel and remember this time. There is just too much this time.
I want to beg everyone to STOP. I want everyone to stop what they’re doing and listen to “I’m in here” by Sia because that is all I am in this moment. Those are the only words I have in this moment to explain the oppressive depth of my despair.
I'm drowning in my memories. I'm dying from my memories. My memories are suffocating me so slowly; I can actually feel the life draining from my body this time.
Sia sang it before I understood it. Her song is my pain in this moment. I wish I could play her beautiful song to everyone I have ever known so they can understand exactly what I feel in this final moment. I want everyone to listen to her beautiful words so they know what I feel in this moment. Her exact words have become my life and death in this moment.
No one has ever known me, and no one has ever understood me. No one has ever known why I’m like this because no one has ever truly known what my life was really like.
*****
I know I'm sleeping and dreaming, but I can't seem to wake this time. This time I'm fully trapped in this movie-like fast forward showcase of my life. This time I see it all… and it's truly horrific.
Starting from childhood, I remember my mother. I see her hatred for me. I feel her hatred for me. But there was nothing I could do then, I see that now too. There was no pleasure to be had from me for her. She always hated me. It's so clear to me now.
My father also plays out in these memories- so cold and quiet. With not a word spoken to me, my father stands in front of me. I am always the little creature in the room my parents wanted to poison. The silent life I led in their home is whipping by my memory vault. I am silence and sadness.
Watching, I see me so young and quiet suffocating in the loneliness. I wanted to be spoken to so badly. I wanted them to see me without hate and indifference. I wanted to be known and acknowledged and seen in their lives, but they never did know me, or acknowledge me, or see me. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be held just once so badly I cried throughout my nights and silently hid my pain throughout my days.
Awake, they never knew how much pain I felt. But asleep I couldn’t stop the pain from soaking my pillows. I was just so lonely, even with my parents right there in the room in front of me. I was the Creature.
Dammit, even my school reality plays out now. I'm alone. I sit alone. I eat my pitiful little lunch alone. I am always alone. It's a wonder I even know how to speak. It's more amazing still that I know how to socialize perfectly. God, I was just so lonely. All the time.
I remember a grade school teacher making us watch the movie “Cipher in the Snow”. I remember leaving the darkened quiet classroom afterward to sit in a bathroom stall while I cried my eyes out.
I was so sad for the little boy, Cliff. I was so sad after he collapsed and died. I remember how sad I felt, never knowing what became of all the people who ignored him. I remember crying alone in the bathroom for at least an hour before a teacher found me and made me return to my classroom. I was so sad, but I was scared too.
I kept wondering if I was just going to die one day from the loneliness. I remember wondering if my parents would find me dead in my bed one morning. I remember kind of wishing they would find me dead so that I didn’t have to be this sad and lonely anymore.
I had no friends and no one spoke to me because I was The ‘Snobby’ Suzanne Beaumont. But I was never a snob, I was just lonely. I was awkward and sad and I didn’t know how to have a friend, so I never had one.
And now I see the abuse. God, the first time was so awful and frightening. My mother dressed me and left me in the room alone. I remember crying and I remember begging to get out… And then I remember him.
The first time for me was forced oral sex. Choking and gagging and screaming around it, until he slapped my face hard, forcing my jaw open with his fingers digging brutally into my cheeks.
And then I stopped fighting. I didn't move. I closed my eyes as he continued gagging and choking me throughout my silence.
Oh god, the horror and the shame, and the absolute truth of my mother- SHE did this to me. She set it up. She watched me and she encouraged this for some awful reason in her twisted mind. This was all her.
Sadly, I remember the first anal abuse. I remember the screaming agony, until there was only black darkness. Thank god for the darkness. There was no known pain then, and afterward my memory was inconsistent, at best.
I loved blacking-out because I never knew what they actually did to me; therefore I wasn't sure of what exactly I should be ashamed of. I loved the darkness because it was my only ally on these brutally long, excruciating nights.
Ah, yes… now my movie fast-forwards to Dr. Simmons, the truly amazing Psychiatrist that he was.
Jesus… being forced into his hospital was the turning point for me I think. I'm almost sure the memories went away after visiting his hospital. I wonder what he did to me. I wonder what was done to me to make me forget.
Strangely, he never penetrated me though-not even once. He did however, force me to endure his desires. He kissed and fondled, and would perform sexual acts to me like he was hoping for a response from me.
God, it was so gross and I could do nothing to stop it. Between his strength and the straps around my wrists and ankles and the medications in me, he could do to me as he liked. And sadly he did.
When it was happening I would just turn my head to the side, stare at the bathroom doorway looking at the red, and sadly, wait for him to finish. My body was lifeless. I was nothing living, but the chaos in my mind never ended. I was a broken deadened body that could not move, and did not feel.
And again, my memories seem to jump forward to Marcus. Marcus was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. He was so kind and calm and gentle to me. He held doors open and cared enough to order my food. And he would smile at me often.
Marcus would simply smile and I felt such a strange contentment with him. Marcus rarely yelled at me, and he never acted as though I was someone born for his hatred. He took me as his wife and seemed to enjoy me in his life. Marcus was a blessing from the nightmare of my parents. He was a lovely kindness in all my darkness. God, I miss him in my life.
I wish I could stop this reel. I wish to stop this show with Marcus. I want this movie to end with my memories of a decent man who loves me. But I never get what I want, certainly not in this life.
Why was this my life? I wish I could ask someone. I wish there was someone to ask. It's strange remembering everything I think my brain must desper
ately want me to forget.
How do victims do this? It's such a sad question to ask but I don't know the answer. How do other victims of sexual abuse learn to move past it? What IS moving past it?
I know I'm not alone; I know that, but I just feel so alone. I don't know how to forget the feelings and the pain and all the darkness that surrounds my life. I don't know how to do it, and I'm scared to become a person obsessed with the darkness.
I don't want to be a woman who constantly thinks of the bad. I don't want to be a woman consumed with all the bad. I don't want to be a woman who cries and screams and prays for darkness all the time, just to ease the pain of her memories.
But how do I forget? What will make my horrible memories go away?
I wish I could ask Mack. Oh! My Mack. God, I remember him now. He's Mack, not Dr. MacDonald, and he wasn't lying. He IS mine. Holy shit! How could I have forgotten my Mack?
Now this I regret. I wish I had remembered him immediately. I wish I had awoken to the memory of his love and strength. I probably wouldn't feel so lost if I'd just known who to love and who to take my comfort from.
Mack is here, and I can start again, again.
Now I see them. My crazy sarcastic sexy as hell Kayla from New York, and my crazy sarcastic man-hungry Kayla from Chicago... and Z.
Oh, Z. Now I remember him. Z's my lover. Oh god... I remember him now. He IS my lover and he loves me. He actually wants me. He even wants to marry me. Wow! How could I forget that? I mean, I know I was in a coma, but still... who could forget such an awesome, sexy, beautiful man loving them? I swear I'm a moron sometimes. He loves me and I want to love him back. I think I even remember loving him back.
Oh! I remember loving him back in New York. He was sexy and kind, and really, really awesome at all the sex stuff.
Christ! He knew exactly how to touch me, and what to say, and what to do. I remember sex with Z was loving, and amazing, and unforgettable. Huh. Maybe Mack should've started with the Z sex-stuff. I probably would have remembered my life sooner.
Remembering Z, I'm overcome with my newest reality. I have to change again. I have to get better again. I have to start feeling all this life again. God, I have to wake up. Again.
This movie has been long and exhausting, but I think it's my time now. I think maybe I should write the script of my life from now on. Finally, I should try to be my own Director.
I want to be the person who yells 'action' during the good times, and 'cut' during the bad times. I want this movie of my life to have a Hollywood ending. I want the happily ever after. God, I have to wake up now and take control of my movie. I know that now.
Of course, I don't have a freakin' clue how to start. And I don't know how to make this horrible movie into a love story, but I want to try. I really, really want to try this time.
I want a happily ever after. Everyone wants a happily ever after. Even the people who hate them; those who scoff at the perfectly cheesy endings, those who make fun of happily ever after’s, deep down kinda want them I think, because nobody wants the ending to be more depressing than the story was. No one wants the ending to feel worse than the horrific journey to get there.
So that's what I'm going to do. This is it. When I wake up again from this nightmare, I'm going to try to live this life well, with the people who love me. I'm going to forget the monsters, and I'm going to love the angels instead.
I'm going to write this script by my own hand, with the words I've always wanted to say, and with the love I've always wanted to feel. I'm going to close the book of my past, and I'm going to write a new book filled with my new future.
I'm going to wake up now.
NIGHT
MARES
CHAPTER 19
JUNE 6
Opening my eyes, I'm relieved to still remember. My dream is fuzzy, but my memories are clear. I remember all the bad, and I remember the little bit of good I've had. I think I remember it all now.
“Suzanne... Welcome back. How are you feeling?” Should I? Shouldn't I? No, dammit. I'm not gonna mess with him.
“Hi, Mack. Um, I remember,” I confess.
Staring at me for seconds, Mack seems to collect his thoughts. “What do you remember, Suzanne?” Oh, he looks so hopeful, though I can tell he's fighting the urge to hope.
Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze as tight as I can. “I remember you Mack. I remember everything. I must have been asleep for a long time, because my dream was really long, but I remember everything now. I remember all of it.”
Guarded still, he asks, “What exactly do you remember, Suzanne?”
“Oh, Mack, I remember how I felt about you. I remember you're my Mack. You're my person. You're my Mack, and I remember loving you very much.”
“What else do you remember?” He asks way too calmly.
“Everything. All of it. I remember my Kaylas, and I remember Z. It all came back to me Mack. I remember leaving Marcus, and I remember how my parents treated me. I remember all the bad stuff and I remember what was done to me when I was young by my parents and the men. I remember it all. I remember you all.”
Exhaling a long breath, Mack is silent. Still staring at me, he doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he does seem hopeful now.
“When did the memories return?”
“I don't know. Just now I guess. I was dreaming and then I was remembering. It was like a movie that played out. My horrible autobiography. My life in sections, and chunks. Mostly bad stuff, and awful loneliness, but then I remembered you, and the Kaylas, and Z, and even the good Marcus. I think I remember everything now.”
“Do you remember what upset you recently?”
“No. I was just sleeping for a long time with all my memories playing out. Why? What happened?”
“Do you remember the last three weeks? Do you remember waking from the coma?”
“Yes. It's all weird though and kind of fuzzy because I was so confused but I don’t know why I was confused because I remember everything now, but I guess I didn’t really remember then. I don’t know. Everything is all weird. I remember hearing I was in a car accident, and that I was in another coma, which is so messed up. Another coma? How very dramatic of me,” I giggle.
“Yes, highly dramatic Suzanne. Though the first was medically-induced, this second was from a brain trauma. But still- two comas in a year? That's a bit much wouldn't you agree?”
“Yes, Mack. Yes, I would. Have I barfed at all?” I grin.
“Once or twice, but you're handling all this very well considering. I would request that you stop with all the psychotic freak-outs and drama however, because the Kaylas are getting a little pissed.” Smirk.
Ha! There's my Mack. Doctorly and dorky all at once. Actually, he seems a little sarcastic too. I wonder if he realizes the tragic influence Kayla has had on him.
“How’s Kayla?”
“She's good, Suzanne. Actually, she's thrilled you're awake, but she'll be ecstatic that you finally remember her. The other Kayla is just as funny and hard and Kayla-like as ever. Well, except with you of course. With you she's kind of a pushover, though she'd hit me for saying that.”
Smiling at Mack, I think I'm happy to hear that the Kaylas are okay. I think I'm relieved that they still care about me.
“How are you, Mack?”
“I'm really good. And I'm so happy you're back with us. We've been very worried, and this stretch with you has seemed endless. But otherwise, I'm very well.”
“Was it really bad?”
“It was sometimes, yes. I think because you were so confused and felt such a lack of control you panicked often. You were very easily agitated and you tended to lash out frequently.”
“I'm sorry...”
When Mack takes my hand, I can help but ask. I just need a little comfort. I need some Mack-like comfort.
“Would you please hug me, Mack,” I beg on a whisper.
“God, yes...”
And when he takes me in his arms, I feel how gentle he is. I know
he's holding me gently, but I don't want that. I think I need a hard, 'I'm awake now' hug. I need Mack to strengthen me.
So pulling tighter, I squeeze Mack with all I can. Holding on tightly, I'm waiting for the comfort to envelop me. I'm waiting, but I feel nothing but the physical hug.
“Um, I can't really feel you, emotionally. Does that make sense? I know you're hugging me and I know I want it- I know I need it actually, but you feel like a stranger or something. Is that normal?”
“Suzanne, your emotions are going to run the gauntlet for the next while. You're going to be depressed, and scared, and overwhelmed, and an endless combination of a multitude of emotions. You may even experience a sudden sense of euphoria, which is also common.
“...You have been trapped unaware, and then you were awake with no cognizant memory of your life, and now you’re awake with memory. You may feel happy or sad, or nothing at all until this all settles. There is no right or wrong way to feel right now.
Honestly, it's pretty remarkable that you have your memory at all, at least this early after waking. Generally speaking, PTA patients- post-traumatic amnesia patients- can take months to feel and to remember their previous lives, or they may never regain all their memories, nor can they heal entirely. The short timeframe for which you experienced your memory loss is amazing. So please don't worry. You're doing very well.”
“Okay.” Silence.
Staring at Mack again, I feel like a bit of a fool asking this, but...
“How's Z?”
“He's good Suzanne. Well, that's not entirely true. Right now I can almost feel him climbing the walls outside. He's just itching to get to you, but otherwise he's good.” Oh!
This Is Me... Page 11