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In the cell I cannot sleep. I’ve become so confused by the ordeal that I have no idea what anyone is saying to me. The legal process is not something I can formulate and interpret. I just need to sort through my brain to try and remember. I need to know. I need to solve. I need to distinguish reality from the rest of the mush that is rotting inside my skull.
I don’t remember how I got here in the cell. I’m blanked out of time from the moment the police took me from my home. It seems we merely walked out the front door and appeared here. Just like surgery. You could be under the knife for hours at a time, and awaken in excruciating pain feeling like you only blinked once. I think about the torture and my captors. None of that makes any sense, but I have the gunshot wound. That is real. And some flesh has been eaten away as if by rats. I have markings on my skin from being bound. My body has clearly suffered dehydration and starvation. My muscles are weak. Everything physically feels real and proves a reality, but what reality…it can’t yet be defined.
As I begin to drift off my world becomes black and hazy. It’s like I’m falling. I have motion sickness as I begin to dream, but I think I’m still awake, and I don’t understand this vertigo while I’m still lying down. It’s as if I am inebriated and I’m experiencing bed spins. The world becomes grey and there is a stillness. The movement levels and becomes smooth. I feel a breeze and I realize I’m in a car and the window is open all the way and the air blows onto my face, it’s so warm. It is half day and half night so I think I must be dreaming. I am in the front passenger seat of a car and a woman is driving. She reaches over and puts her hand on my thigh and rubs. I love her. She rubs and though it feels good, it’s rather awkward and it confuses me. Especially as she slides her hand down between my legs and begins to squeeze my genitals, rubbing and squeezing over my pants. It feels good but it feels wrong. I get hard anyway which is a strange sensation, kind of a tingling thickness in my penis and as she rubs it gets harder and it feels so good. It still confuses me and I want her to stop but I’m embarrassed and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I’m trusting her. If it feels good then it must be good. My mother knows better than I do. She turns her head to look at me and she laughs, so I give her a stupid ingenuine grin. I just want her to think she’s making me happy because I don’t want to insult her or seem ungrateful since I think she’s trying to do something nice for me. She says “You like that sweetie?” Then we crash.