This is another pit of hell.
My mother took me on another weekend getaway. What with her being a psycho, my dad was happy to have her gone. He didn’t ask too many questions. I was around 1st or 2nd grade.
Here is when my memories get mixed up.
I earned a bunny rabbit. They said if I were good and did their race, I’d win a bunny. Some of the bunnies in the hutch bit, but the one I chose didn’t.
Oh, the things I did to earn a bunny rabbit!
I had to swim naked through a cold pool. I had to climb over a small, chain-link fence after the swim and the pokes of the fence really hurt my private area. That was at the end to get to the bunny hutch.
Before then, I was in a classroom-type place. It was actually a military barracks, at Fort Ord (Thank you, Uncle Sam!), and that’s why I was surrounded by so many men. A few other kids and I were on chairs. There was a mattress in front of us. I felt like we were at summer school. I knew that to be “good” I couldn’t scream. It helped that they put something over the bottom part of my face. It was leather and had a spike that was placed just under my chin. There was a leather piece that went over my head and connected to the back. It was latched on, like you would buckle leather sandals to your feet, so there was no way to get away from the spike. There was also no breathability to it, so it got wet in front of my mouth. On the back, where it buckled, there was also a dog collar type thing. Later, they chained us together to bring us to the lunch room. The chain hooked to the back of my mask.
I put together the time frame on this because of a racist feeling I’d had when I was doing a sport after first grade. I’m white, and I had to hold a black girl’s hand. I got really nervous and it kept coming to my mind that she was dirty and stinky and never showered. I knew that wasn’t the case, but it just kept coming to my mind.
Now, let me tell you something about my mother–she may sell her child for sex, but she is not racist. My dad isn’t racist. None of my close family were racist. Race issues weren’t really a thing. So, where on earth had I heard that black people were dirty and never showered? Why, our most wonderful government’s military base, Fort Ord!
The little girl sitting next to me, all tied up and masked, was black. She was before me. I wondered what she’d done wrong to be in summer school. What had I done wrong to be there? I didn’t know. We were silently crying and in shock. The army guys were going in the half circle, gang-raping the next child in line on the mattress. There were bright lights shining on the mattress and a video camera rolling. Each child was going to have a turn. It didn’t matter what race you were, or sex, they would scream racist/sexist things at you while they were raping you. The rest of us watched and were intermittently terrorized by a man jumping out and scaring you, getting in your face.
I don’t know if they had stations in different rooms, or they just changed things up in the same room. There were flashing orb lights with people scaring you. Electric shocks out of nowhere. They’d shout in your face. They took pictures of you with a deer head on your head. A seemingly real deer head. I also had some pictures with the deer’s antler parts up inside me. They’d show you pictures and scream at you to answer about what it was. If you answered correctly, they’d zap you. They dressed up as policemen and screamed at you to tell them what was done to you that day. When you’d answer truthfully, they’d zap you. Then remind you to tell the truth, didn’t you want that surprise? Or the the bunny? And you were so exhausted and zapped and confused, you didn’t know what to say and you almost went out of your head with insanity. I think they made sure to stop right before then.
I remember the church they brought me to. They carried me in a basket. I remember being in the trunk of a car at one point, and being carried up the steps on the side of the church.
I don’t know when my mother picked me up. I stayed at a hotel with her that night. I lay awake in the middle of the night, not really knowing what had happened and what I’d done wrong.