Chapter 10 - the Dreams
Seeing the burned-in PTSD persistent image of my shocking tub discovery constantly is a real psychic blow, as one could easily imagine. I lusted after sleep. When your whole day, every day is filled with periodic "flashes" of some horrible scene, well... falling unconscious seems like a blessed state to achieve. I had the initial persistent to semi-persistent nightmares of the incident, from discovering this scene.
I was initially thinking of it as tiny incremental success, when the persistent nightmare recalls were beginning to take nights off. I mean... whew, mop the forehead and say thank god. Then, the other shoe dropped. Actually it was more like getting kicked in the other testicle after groaning through the initial punt in the first gonad.
I woke up about an hour into sleep, and by "wake up" I of course mean in a fright. My eyes popped open with no gradual coming awake. Eyes popped and my whole body jerked awake and bolted upright. Panting, adrenaline response running on afterburners, mind racing in fight or flight mode. There was someone "pouncing" on me as I bolted awake, and I instinctively grabbed them. One hand behind the head, one hand under the chin. I can rotate the head clockwise or counter clockwise to "drop" them quickly and with no effort to either bolt off and escape, or to jump on my stunned prey.
I wasn't screaming as my eyes popped open but I definitely wasn't just murmuring or mumbling, either. As I made contact with my hands firmly grasping behind and below the head to stop, move or control my opponent stalking me while I was sleeping? I saw the sweet kind face of my trusty legal eagle, and I just as instantly released her head and held my hands up in the universal sign of surrender.
Her eyes were wild and she was now terrified, because touching me to rouse me from my obvious bad dream resulted in me seizing her head instantly and starting to turn it before dropping it and retreating back to lay back and onto the bed again.
I'm panting with panic breathing, I took myself in on a once over. Covered in what looked more like petroleum jelly spread in an uneven layer than sweat. It didn't "run" like sweat, the beads stayed firm and went into a sheen coat of thick goo. I was covered in grease-sweat or sweat-grease. I couldn't decide which moniker fit better.
"Are... you awake now?"
My heaving diaphragm was finally starting to slow the bellowing of air in and out. A little.
"Yeah... sorry."
She stayed back a couple paces and was still poised to run, and was calming finally.
"I, uh... thought you were going to break my neck like a chicken for a second there."
"Really, really, bad, dream... my eyes popped open, you're right there... Christ, you scared the shit out of me..."
"Oh. I scared you. Right..."
"Again, sorry. Do... you need me?"
"No. Thought you needed me."
I gave my best wan grin.
"If... I was screaming your name in my sleep? I can't be held accountable for my dreams."
"Uh huh. If that was a wet dream you were having? I don't want to know about your love life."
"So... how did I scare you, anyways."
"Oh. Totally normal. My girlfriend? Shook me awake. She heard screaming. I came in to check on you, and... hell, shake you awake, so you can get back to sleep and maybe the next dream won't be as much of a stinker... last time I try that shit, though."
"No, no. Please do. Technique? Stand back and poke me in the ribs with a stick. Safe distance."
"Funny."
"Being serious."
"The hell's with the... head grabbing thing, anyways. How did your mom ever survive you having nightmares as a kid anyways, you got that little trick."
"Uh, sorry. Look, when you're sleeping? Your eyes are closed. Your pupils are wide open all the way. No light with your eyes closed."
"Okay, I'll buy that. But, the hell's that got to do with treating me like a chicken for dinner in a Mexican town."
"Well. Normally, I'd wake up how I went to sleep. In the dark? You got this huge light on when you came in. Unless I was sleepwalking and turned the light on..."
"No. I did. So? I don't click and squeak like a bat, to echo locate in the pitch dark. I flicked the light on. What's that got to do with the price of cheap chickens in Mexico, anyways."
"Pupils wide open, eyes closed. You flicked the light on and shoved me awake? My eyes pop open, I can't see shit but a white blob. Saw movement right there in front of me... and if someone surprises you, that's the best move to grab in a panic with. Fighting. Sorry..."
"The hell was the dream, anyways. Must have been a real humdinger."
I sighed. I was calming down. Heart was beginning to slow from sprinting a marathon, to near rest. The chill from the thick sweat was settling in now. The shivers up the spine, too.
"Not sure I wanna describe it..."
"Oh. The... usual?"
"Actually? No. Worse, if you can believe it."
"How could it be worse, than the... usual."
"Usual's bad enough. Do you scare easy? Scary movies..."
"Not really. Go ahead."
"She was... thought she was... you know. Looked away, and... when I looked back? She was different... sitting upright. Alive, awake. And... scarier. Like, Hollywood scarier. She was suddenly closer, jump scared me... Christ."
"So. From... nightmares, to... night terrors. Great."
"I guess. I wonder if the medication did that? Or... I think that's the first time I drank since this happened... food I'm not used to, maybe. Like I'll ever really know."
"Hmm. Come on."
"What. I get to sleep with you girls? Like crawling into bed with mom after a nightmare."
"Ha. Funny."
She sniffed at me.
"You smell like garlic."
"And that? In a movie, you hear them say... that? Is the smell of fear. I guess that's what panic sweat smells like in real life. Sorry."
"And that's why god made marble showers, and I evolved to rent one. Plan. You? Go immediately, and take a one minute quickie hot bath. Just rinse off, and towel off quick, and get back. While you do that, I'll have hot milk ready to put in your hand as soon as you step back out a minute or two later if you move it. You chug the warm milk, and you get back to sleep while you're still tired. Go."
She pointed for me to go immediately, and put on an air of faux irritated management style. I couldn't help dry wit to defuse the situation over my shoulder as I padded to the luxury shower room.
"Warm milk. You girls are going to burp me and change my diaper, right? I like some baby powder on my bottom, too. No sense I get all chafed up..."
I must have been back in something less than three minutes, and indeed she had a small coffee cup of hot milk in my hand.
"I dropped some honey in it. Drink and go, I read somewhere that if you can lay back down within 20 minutes of a sleep interruption? You can sometimes get right back to sleep."
I sighed.
"Trying to take it in stride, but... it was just... weird."
"You want to talk about it? I mean, I've had all kinds for clients. You'd be surprised what I've heard before."
I rubbed my fists in my eyes briefly.
"I mean, at first? It was the... standard nightmare. By that I mean, like it should be, or... like it actually was. But, then it changed. I, looked away, I look back... it changed."
"What changed."
"Everything. Like, I blinked or looked around and it was a whole different room. And just weird. She had changed. It was her, I knew it was her, but... she looked like... she was her cousin or something."
"She has a cousin that looks like her..."
"No. Or, not that I know of. A cousin can look so much like that person, but you know its not them? Like that. And the room, too."
"What was with the room after that happened."
"Okay. The tub? It wasn't long like the tub anymore. I looked back, it was suddenly... a short tub. Like a cross between... a giant toilet? And a really thick utility sink. And her arm? You know how you have duct tape wrapped around something outside?"
"Yeah."
"Then after a year or two, the duct tape starts to crack and split. It gets brittle, and breaks up."
"Okay."
"Like that, But, it was on her left arm. A piece of cardboard it looked like, over a bad wound on her left forearm? And someone put a piece of cardboard over it and wrapped duct tape around it to hold it where they needed it. But, a year or two ago, it was brittle with age. The duct tape, not the cardboard."
"Okay. That is weird. In a giant toilet bowl with duct tape for a band aid on her arm."
"And the room. Stupid stuff. There was... like a little oxygen tank, or... one of those things that they sprayed fizzy water out with in the old bartender movies? Like a portable air tank. Miniature scuba tank, like cat sized scuba tank, that small. And, there's a fire extinguisher, and... I don't know if its a pack of cigarettes near the edge of the tub? Or, it kinda could look like a cell phone. Just... weird."
"That is weird."
"Oh. And how I saw the tub, is how I see it in dreams, before this one? But when I look back, I had moved. I'm now standing at the foot of this tub. Not from the side like I really did."
"You said she moved before your bath. Jump scare?"
"The sudden jump scare, was looking around and coming back to look... and the room and everything changed."
"So, she didn't really move. You looked back, and you were in a different place, and the room was different."
"Yeah. Still a shock."
"All right. You going to try to get back to sleep?"
I nodded. I handed her the small coffee mug I had drank the warm milk and honey out of.
Thanks. You're... like a mom, doing that. Not sure I ever had warm milk for bedtime, maybe when I was like... four years old?"
"Glad you liked it. Goodnight. Try to have better dreams, would you."
"Oh. Glad you suggested that, I'll try it."
"Okay, smarty pants. Bed. My girlfriend is going to get pissed at me."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. You? Didn't do any of this. Some asshole is responsible. Not you. Never blame yourself."
I laid back down, after locking myself into my smaller spare bedroom again. I laced my fingers behind my head for a bit, before trying again. I ended up hugging my pillow I was using, going into side sleeping. I'm a side sleeper.
Another... I don't know. 45 minutes, hour and a half? No sense in keeping track of these timelines. Basically? The same process repeated itself. The only difference, this time my legal eagle was poking me with something, and jumping back. I came to, in the same fashion as before. The petroleum jelly, the stench. Sprinting a marathon and bellows working as if feeding a blacksmith forge. Her girlfriend was standing a little ways behind her, in her background. Arms crossed defensively over her chest, clearly annoyed at me.
We went through it again. One minute of rinse off, quick toweling off. This time? She tried warm ginger ale.
"This time? You went from loud announcements? To actual screaming. Nice touch."
I was deflated. Embarrassed.
"Oh. Pretty much the same thing again? But better special effects. When the change happened? Weird lighting, weird colors. The... strange giant work sink tub? Had strange colored lights, really powerful, from under the water. Weird, scary skin. She was suddenly screaming at me, when I looked back and... the big change jumped me."
"Well. Better special effects. That's something, at least."
"The... special effects team on this little movie? Is obviously bucking for a special award at the movie awards coming up. I could really go for... the reliving it again, reality dream I was used to already."
She talked to me a little bit.
I got the idea, she was now trying to change my line of thought, instead of shipping me right back to go into another similar dream. Trying for a change of pace. I got the sense she was actually concerned. I felt real empathy and compassion coming off of her in waves.
Her girlfriend? The polar opposite.
The more she went down the road of caring and empathetic, the more the girlfriend suddenly turned into a complete spoiled child. Rolling eyes. Prancing around, posing with her hands on her cocked hips. Those oh so dramatic poses, some women affect.
I found it all odd.
My legal eagle? Was the sort of female in this relationship, however lipstick it was. She did the cooking. She dressed more fashionably and cuter. She was here the one with caring and empathy.
Her girlfriend? Went from her normal adult sense and sensibility I had seen over dinner, and turned into a pouting child. Well, my eagle had the big career and ability, I suppose. The girlfriend? Was a legal secretary.
If this was how my night was going to go? I wasn't very interested. I was in the peculiar position of needing sleep. Getting it, however... brought some night time hellish dream landscape all of a sudden for some reason. The very thing I was wanting and needing? Was the very thing eviscerating me, and preventing me from getting it. It was circular hell. I began to feel like a person that had to go forwards, but moving forwards impaled myself on a long sword.
Welcome to hell, I thought. My own subconscious? Will be my tour guide.
The rest of the night went like this. I tried to grab anywhere from 45 minutes to perhaps an hour and a half, not quite two hours I don't think was my "record", I believe. I eventually gave up, and simply started in on the coffee. Some of the dreams had been so strange, they were barely scary. Well, still really scary, just... so damn weird. One had her having weird appendages. And by weird? I mean some sort of alien, bad LSD trip sort of weird hand, feet, arms, legs. After a couple of these in rapid succession? Yeah. Coffee. I gave up by that point.
I was finally joined by first my host, then the pouting child as I now thought of her.
"And how long have you been up, drinking coffee."
I shrugged.
"Didn't keep accurate records of the whole experiment. I ended up... couple hours? Broken up into chunks, that's the total I estimate."
She looked at how I had made coffee, when she finally noticed it.
"Uh... something wrong with the gourmet coffee machine?"
"Oh. That. It has lots of controls, a digital readout, lots of stuff going on to control it. Unfortunately? No real words to give me an idea what controls what. I can't even decipher the hieroglyphics. I really tried. I can get really hot water out, but not when I get coffee in the cup thing. Now then. A pot of water? Some coffee in the water, boiling? Pour some into a cup. Voila."
"Hmm. Are you interested in... gourmet coffee making? Or..."
"If there's something I'm missing, then I can get the hang of it? Fine. If its going to be a complicated process... I mean, I'm up. I'm an inquisitive little bastard. I found model numbers, ran internet searches. Finally? Tracked down a website, unfortunately not one in English. Finally poked around, and found a download, got instructions."
"If you found instructions..."
"Instructions not in English. Kind of a let down. I learned how to get coffee grounds into the thing. That was exciting, figured I'd made a real breakthrough on the project, you know. Still got hot water out. I made one cup of tea, then..."
"You lost patience, and just boiled coffee grounds in a pot."
"I mean, on some basic level? This machine... I just need hot water and coffee grounds in it."
She smiled, looking around.
"What?"
"Where are you spitting the grounds out at. Like cowboys camping."
"Physics 101. A dash of cold water when you quit boiling? The grounds fall out, and if you pour carefully? It works."
She shrugged and held her empty coffee mug out.
"I'll try it. You pour."
She put sugar and milk in it, and had a second cup. Her girlfriend was by now up and prancing around with her. Both were in long T shirts, and I would assume underwear under them? Though I admit I really don't know, and wasn't trying to sneak peeks. She was seeming to be mildly concerned, and I was guessing trying to be nonchalant about it. Her girlfriend continued her child act. The prancing, the dramatic rolling eyes, the poses and postures and body language The big dramatic sighs and gesture. Then the little verbal snips started. I just ignored her, and refused to take the bait. My host finally had enough.
"You. Stop it."
"Stop what..."
Delivered like a spoiled child. One that senses its not running the risk of getting clouted upside the head, so why not act up.
"You can pout like a little baby all you feel like it. I admit, its a little bit cute before it gets annoying. I'm used to it, I even appreciate a little bit of it. But... you can stop with the being smart and snapping at him."
She honestly wagged her head like a little kid and made a face. She continued and even explored further, into exploratory smart ass comments and jibes. All condescending.
"Bill? I have to stop in the office for a little bit. I won't be a real long time. I'll be back shortly, at least I plan on it. I'm most likely bringing the investigator back with me, too. And you..."
"What."
"Don't give me what. You? Leave him alone, and don't act up when I'm gone. The cute, amusing period for this... passed over that a ways back. I mean it. Don't push me on this."
She honestly got the open mouth, wagging head, silly disgusted taunting face a little kid gives you, once they learn what "attitude" is and how they can show it. Me, I'd be embarrassed if I acted like this. For her part, she honestly seemed quite beaming proud to do it. As if it were some great expression of her lofty position in life, that she could get away with it. I got a sense of... I'm an adult, I'm a big person now, and no one can tell me what to do! Ha!
As I said. Since she's not embarrassed for herself, as she should be? I'm embarrassed for her. My adult host went to the office, and I first tried watching some TV interspersed with boiling coffee and pouring mugs of it. I abandoned the idea because of the display the adult child left behind put on. Constantly walking past the TV for no reason. I ignore people and quite well when they do silly shit like this. Like a dog or a 4 year old acting up? Giving them any attention for it reinforces it and I don't want that.
Completely accurate is my description by comparing it to a 4 year old. Ignored for all the displays? She resorts to parading past the TV I'm trying to watch, to get my attention. I just pretended she was invisible. I've gotten quite good at this act over the years. Eventually it got so tedious, that I decided to try a little nap. So? I retreated to my little guest room, and had the mercy of closing the door. Maybe I could get another hour to add to my little collection of piecemeal sleeps. Maybe enough time had passed that the temporary whatever the hell it even was? Passed.
I eventually woke up, yelling. I got myself another coffee, cold that was left in the pot I used for that. A small mercy was that the 4 year old? Had retreated to its own room, and closed the door. If I was supposed to be being ignored, and feel left out? Quite the opposite. I took a break, then tried to get another little piece of sleep. Braving visiting hell to get another little piece of sleep. I felt like a primitive hunter gatherer, trying gamely to find enough mushrooms to make a little snack.
The obvious happened. Woke up yelling. This time though, I decided to try something different. I went and got the mug of cold coffee, then tried a novel approach. I got my kit out and unzipped the leather bag I had ordered. Syringes and vials secured in little pouches lined up with closures to keep them secure and all well lined so you could abuse the kit and not break things.
Getting quite wiped out with this whole routine, I tried a small dose of the time release shot. One cc was quite a small dose, but I wanted to try to "up" my levels of it. I waited about an hour, to see how it went. I eventually went with another half a cc, to top it off when all seemed well.
I glanced up because I got the eerie feeling I was being stalked, and I was. The 4 year old adult was standing across the way, staring at me like I was chopping pets and children up. Christ. I simply stood up, and went over and closed the door. Out of sight? Out of mind. After a time I tried the sleep experiment again. My host seemed to have gotten caught up a bit at the office, might as well try this out and make some attempt at something productive for me.
I woke up... what was now the new normal. Short nap, yelling. This time however? There was a quite novel twist on it. I couldn't open my guest bedroom door. I knocked, I knocked and rapped more. I listened to see when the child-woman might be around to get her attention? Nothing. I was quite used to throwing and retracting my inside twist knobs that snicked home the long sturdy deadbolts. One was stuck. I resorted to slapping the steel security door forcefully, yelling, then a few exploratory kicks. Mainly to make noise and get attention. Nothing.
I sat down and waited.
I was expecting some level of frustration, a little bit of fear. Not much came though. Forced into solitude temporarily, I got introspective. Much like a programming quandary at my job, this was a puzzle. Take stock. Be logical. Nothing comes from emotional responses. Be clinical.
The door was thick steel or solid waffle steel. I wasn't going to get anywhere attacking it without tools. I had no suitable battering ram, and that was really a bit much of an over-response at that. While I can pick basic low level desk and filing cabinet locks? That's as nothing. I know I'm simply touching a couple of easy pin tumblers, and they're not made with any care. They click into place because they're loose fitted, and I can turn the barrel when the pins have all "ledge-d" up and caught, creating a shear line.
These are quite expensive and well machined high end deadbolt locks. Even if I thought I might be able to get somewhere, the key locks operate from the outside and I'm in here. The window. Quite secure, and I can't find the latch. Expensive. Made for security, and if you even can unlatch and move it open? It requires you to know where to look, and some kind of tool to multi-turn and unlock it.
As long as there's not a fire, I'm fine. I can go for up to three days without water, and even longer without food. The water is the limiting factor way before hunger. Either the lock that won't unlock has developed a mechanical fault, or... the 4 year old has locked the adult's door. Reminds me of the funny time a... well? A 4 year old at a friend's house locked us all in the basement and ran around eating candy and watching little kid videos, having a ball. This, to me, was fairly well the identical situation.
The calm I was experiencing, was illuminating. I gave myself another cc of the magic solution to keep this new thing raring and topped up. I finally risked another attempt at a tiny nap. I had an even more grotesque than usual dream, but woke up without the screaming. More of a muttering and grumbling noises as I came around. Hmm. Better.
My immediate and only real problem? I had to go to the bathroom. I waited and waited, and finally I was running the risk of pissing myself. No drains, no window I can open. Fuck it. I spied a large planter sort of thing. Decorative, dried plumes arranged in it. I took the plumes out as carefully as I could manage, I can remember my own mother freaking out when I abused hers when I was little.
I urinated and emptied my bladder into the expensive looking thick ceramic pitcher shaped planter constructed with quite detailed glazing patterns and overall protective sheen. I idly wondered how expensive of a decoration I was pissing in. Not at all embarrassed at what I had done, nor any sense of accomplishment. When the time came to explain myself? I simply would. I would stand by these actions, as rational and logical. My cell phone was inadvertently laying out there, as I remember next to the couch on a small coffee table. I won't be making that mistake again.
I sat down to wait.
Eventually, I had to take a shit. Nothing about my odd situation had changed. My response to urinating had worked. Defecating is a step up from just urinating. Taking a piss, you can just whip out and let fly. Shitting requires a tad more. Hmm. The rim was wide enough. The height of this ceramic vase was in my favor. There was only a convenience box of tissues in some expensive looking cover box, perhaps even real marble. So? I carefully sat just so on the expensive decorative vase, and dropped my load. I did have some clothes in here, so I wiped with a pair of socks and added them down in the planter.
I then sat down to wait once again.
Took some time, but I heard some noise. This well made door and reinforced frame actually don't admit that much noise, but enough I knew someone was out there. I started knocking, then slapping hard to get attention drawn to my setup. I heard the snick, then I tried the handle and the door worked again. I stepped out, to the furrowed brow of my beloved host. I nodded politely to her, then to the investigator she had in tow with her. He waved back. I returned my calm demeanor to my lawyer.
"What..."
I glanced down. She had keys in her hand.
"Well. I at first thought one of the locks had developed a mechanical malfunction. One unlocked, the other didn't. I suspected that I was locked in. While I have no proof, I strongly suspect your girlfriend."
She sighed and palmed her face. Frustration, embarrassed... whatever. She started muttering, and I held my hand up to stop her.
"Whatever. I have bad news."
"What now..."
"Well. I beat on the door and yelled, and got nowhere. So. I eventually had to... use facilities. There were none. I made do with what I could. Just a fair warning. Now that you let me out? I'll clean it up, just... not my fault."
"I'm afraid to ask, where..."
"I couldn't work the window. If it even opens with the right tools. I don't know. I tried to... make cleanup and containing the mess my main thing. I ended up going with... that large ceramic planter."
Her look was... incredulity.
"I took the dried plumes out as carefully as I could, to preserve them. I remember my own mom, just loved her dried flowers and stuff like that."
I looked over. The 4 year old cunningly disguised as an adult woman? Was grinning from ear to ear, like a little kid that had gotten away with something and couldn't be touched. She sauntered over triumphantly while my lawyer was looking around exasperated, trying to stay calm and figure out what to do. The 4 year old started in on me, and I ignored her. Honestly, like a little kid, trying to make fun of another little kid to get them to leave. I just stood there, oblivious. I'm dealing with her, the exact same way I deal with real life 4 year old toddlers. I just ignore them.
This didn't satisfy her, and she started in with a better act. Ramping up the put downs and insults. I studied her like a bug on a pin in a biology class. This, made her mad when she couldn't get my goat. She started shoving at me, and getting physical. Again, I know how to handle this from toddlers. You ignore it, they can't really hurt you. There's no threat.
My lawyer though, is taking the bait. Getting in front of her. Starting to yell at her, push back. This, is encouraging the 4 year old. She's getting attention now. She can pout and roll her eyes, and pose and put her whole insouciance display on now that she has an audience participant. I'm watching this go on in front of and around me, as if I'm watching insects mount and fuck. Mildly amusing, a novelty... but little else. I looked over at the investigator staying back. He looked away, embarrassed. My feelings exactly, buddy.
With no recriminations for her displays, the 4 year old went for broke. A whole screaming yelling match now. As toddler childish as any of the rest of her inane act. Making fun of me, to try to get me to leave. Getting her girlfriend all riled up. They ended up getting pushing and shoving. I guess I'm called a "breeder", as a pejorative by gays. I only took the insult as I had to glean it from context. The 4 year old started in on me now, and in earnest this time. Going for broke.
She's putting on her best temper tantrum display. Screaming and yelling. Shoving at me. She can't move me, even when she winds up and pushes violently. Christ. I'm no giant, but I'm 6'1" or a hair over, and over 200 pounds of fit and trim. I actually work out like a fighter, lift weights, do flexibility and run long distance to stay in shape. I fear her about as much as I fear... well? A 4 year old cutting a temper tantrum.
Now emboldened, she's trying to take swings at me. She might have done sports in high school and college, and she looks like it. But... she had no more idea how to make a fist and swing at someone, than any little kid on the playground. I just walk around backwards, and move easily to keep out of range. I circle around, stalking backwards in an oval. Just like I would do to some drunk retard I'm trying to keep from having to hurt them. You let them swing on air some, the fit passes and they quit. My lawyer is having none of this, and keeps intervening. The 4 year old finally sent her skidding on her ass, and came at me. I finally quit backing up and stood my ground unexpectedly. I just swatted her wrists away. When she tried to kick me? I grabbed her ankle and held it. She can't reach me swinging. I backed her up to the couch, swinging, swearing and hopping on one foot. I slowly lifted the ankle up, until her ass dumped gently onto the couch and backed off.
"You really better knock this shit off."
I was amazingly calm, this was really just odd entertainment to me. More lawyer-girlfriend pushing, shoving, yelling. Then, she went for broke. Screaming bloody murder, she charged over and got the empty cooking pot off the stove I had been using for coffee. She unwisely came at me with that. I guess this is her girly trump card. I'm supposed to cower in fear or some shit, I suppose. She can't do a thing with that coffee pot any better than she can do it with her hands or her feet. Its honestly, like a 4 year old is coming at me with a tantrum.
Still, its a cooking pot. I now have to do something. Wrestling stance, crouch, hands up palms out. I swatted her wrist a few times. When she tried to "really" wind up and get me? All she's doing is telegraphing her swing. Like a 4 year old swinging a toy? I know exactly where that wrist is coming in. I stepped off to the side, and instead of batting her wrist, I grabbed it. Actually, she just slapped her own wrist into my waiting palm for me. I twisted slowly, and dropped her gently onto her ass. I grabbed her offending pot holding wrist with both hands to easily control it. When she tried to kick and get up? I simply placed one foot on her midsection.
I studied her like a bug on a pin. I twisted the pot out of her hands, and tossed it away. I kept her wrist with both hands. She's right handed. I got the strong wrist to control her easily. Standing beside her right side? My foot on her stomach, nothing is happening now. I let her cut the huge screaming kicking fit, as long as she wanted.
When she settled down a little? I finally spoke quietly.
"If you settle down? I'll let you go."
Yeah, here we go. I'll this, I'll that, fuck you, I can the other. Whatever. Toddler bullshit, basically. Out of all the swearing and invective came one item that actually got my attention. Stab me. Well. You want my attention, you little 4 year old girl? Now you get some. You finally managed to get my attention.
I leaned down and loomed my face over her. I tightened my grip up on her captured wrist, and squeezed harder. I made her wince from the pressure. I wasn't mad, I wasn't scared, and I was quite matter of fact in both demeanor and tone of voice.
"If you come at me with a kitchen knife? You're going to get hurt. Don't make me hurt you. Your wrist, or your elbow? Will break. If you keep swinging things at me? Eventually, I'll have to hit you. When I finally have no other choice? I'll hit you like a man. You'll probably wake up in the hospital, with a concussion. You want equality? You want treated like a man? Keep it up."
I stopped with the hard grip to make her wince, but kept her strong hand, my foot still planted firmly on her stomach. As the toddler tantrum wound down, I finally released her. I stayed back and kept a wary eye on her. My eyes followed her wherever she went. She had finally made herself graduate. From toddler nuisance? To a full blown mild threat. I'll now be on guard with her. 24 7 365. She will never be at my back, no matter how long she waits and tries. My cell phone, my wallet will go in my room with me every time. I now put nothing past her.
Now, she eyed me like a rattlesnake. Her attention went back to arguing with my lawyer, who was pissed. She went on and on. Apparently, when demanded for an explanation? She basically got "scared" of my yelling in my sleep, and decided that for her "safety", I needed to be locked in.
This didn't fly with my host, and she'd about had it. She let her have both barrels. That didn't gel either. Apparently from what I gathered listening to this go through the rounds? This was basic toddler jealousy. She doesn't like it when she has a "babysit" client. She wants all of the attention on her, like a spoiled child. When she shoved my lawyer again, I took a step towards her.
Her new trick? The age old daring me to hit her, while running me down and insulting me trick. Please. You can't physically intimidate me, even with something in your hand? Now you try to goad me into hitting you, so you can play victim and try that bullshit. I ain't taking that bait. Sticking her chin up in my face, calling me a pussy, trying to get clipped.
When it didn't work and failed to get a rise at all out of me? She went back to swatting me then tried kicking me again. I got her ankle just like before. I hopped her over to their bedroom, and lifted her ankle to toss her bouncing on the foot of the bed, and closed the door. Like a toddler game, I just put my foot on the bottom of the heavy door and had her pinned.
When the noise quit, I made sure I had my wallet and cell phone and walked out the door without a word. I had enough entertainment for one morning, and not too entertaining at that. The lawyer tried to stop me verbally, but I refused to speak. I glanced back towards the bedroom door, back to her, and left with no other explanation. When I heard someone coming up on me? It was the investigator. He tagged along as I walked two blocks to a coffee shop I had patronized before.
He said nothing beyond the barest minimum. We both had a coffee, when his phone rang. He nodded along, and hung up.
"Your lawyer will be joining us momentarily. If... you don't mind."
"Not at all. I rather enjoy her company."
I sipped my coffee with not a care in the world. It didn't take her long to get here. She was sheepish and smiled wan a bit. She explained briefly to the investigator, and to me. They went the rounds, and once alone she had read her the riot act. She had threatened the childish him or me routine, so she shrugged and related it.
"Gee. Let's see here. I got a great career, and a more than decent chance to move up and get that corner office opening up when the oldest senior partner retires finally. Pretty basic thing. There's firm partners that will babysit important clients? And some won't. I will. I'm not stalling my career from the last big step I can take? For a two year old cutting a fit. I took her key back, told her when she gets over it, call and we'll see. She's pulled this routine before. I like her, I might even love her, but... as you can see, Bill. She does have her little flaws."
I nodded and sipped.
The investigator was eyeing me gently off and on. Studying me. She was as well, but not nearly as intently. When the investigator started hinting around, I simply came out with it.
"Hey. We get along fine. I thought. Spit it out."
It was one of the things the 4 year old had hurled at me. I was a low life drug addict, she had caught me shooting up, she saw it. Blah, blah, blah. Oh. I had forgotten about that. I just shrugged.
"She did see me taking a syringe, and making a thigh injection. I thought I had a moment alone. I was wrong."
My lawyer went through a basic explanation of the anti-depressant shots. He nodded along, as an investigator for the law firm? He knew of this line of treatment for people freaking out. He knew enough of what I had seen and what I had gone through, and was still going through... to appreciate it.
I explained I had given myself a couple cc's, the why of it, and that it had worked. Apparently, it had worked a little bit too well. I was acting a little bit like a robot, I suppose. Still, better than the alternative. I was still at the lower end of the dosage levels at my disposal, and toxicity didn't even remotely begin until much much further up the scale.
I did feel a little like a drug addict, though. Other than I wasn't shooting heroin or morphine? I did need a drug to function. Without it, I knew where I ended up. Fetal position, numb or worse yet, falling to pieces. For right now and the foreseeable future? I couldn't function without it. I guess I was more like a bad diabetic. I needed my syringe and medication on hand, or really bad shit would ensue.
Lovely. Really capped off my whole situation, and beautifully.