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A man comes and posts my bail.  I have no idea who he is but he seems familiar to me.  During the process he says nothing to me directly and neither do I speak a word.  His eyes are dark and impenetrable yet when he looks at me, I know he has answers I may need. I’d rather not go with him, but he is the one choice I have, the only doorway.  Getting out of jail is step one in my plan for finding my daughter.  I know no one to call and I realize, I know… no one…at all.  I don’t remember anyone in my life at any time besides my daughter and my mother.  There were faces and bodies and masks.  There were hands that touched me.  Mostly there was darkness, with glimpses of light, and I knew no better.  Then the acclimation process began, and that which I was brainwashed to believe contrasted with my true experience with a profundity that was like a sharp and jagged piece of broken glass in my brain.  This is how the two worlds banded together, with edges that didn’t quite conform.  My memories shattered, and new memories didn’t enforce a solid psyche.  There is hope, I recognize now.  There is hope because I seem to recall my previous life more than the current life I had been leading.  I am affirmed within myself that the girlfriend I thought I had was actually my mother.  My head spins and aches but I need to grip on and not let go.  My sanity is hovering about me, connected by a shred of consciousness that has no valid basis.  I tell myself, “I am here, here and now, Fay is somewhere else, and she needs me.”  This is how I will remain focused and not lose my mind.

As we exit the facility, I breathe fresh air.  Filling my lungs, it is cool and steady.  It is the purest breath I believe I have ever taken.  When I was in the field, or wherever that was, the air was fresh, but I was not free.  I’m free now.  I don’t care about the law, or the courts, or my charges.  I have no comprehension of those formalities anyway, and I have nothing to lose.  I have nothing but the skin I’m in.  I’m never going to follow through with the legal technicalities, that’s a waste of my time, and nothing matters but Fay.

The moment we are completely outside, I pause and breathe.  It is a moment to simply pause and breathe.  There is no time to break down and cry.  I have no desire to ask a lot of questions.  I feel that it will come to me.  I believe there is an orchestration still in place, yet now, the manipulations are in my favor.  I sense things will begin to fall into place.

The man watches me as I close my eyes and breathe in deeply.  I hear voices in the distance.  Hands grasp me and control me, either for maintenance and care, or sexual abuse and physical torment.  It is routine and expected, and it is all I know.  Until Fay comes into my life.  My mother was a source of comfort yet she abused me.  I feel the ground drop from beneath me and I am running with a virile exuberance through a wooded path.  I come upon a clearing and an iron gate surrounding it.  My body begins to tremor and a rush like an intense and primal sexual peak ravishes me as I aim to break through.

I open my eyes and see the man standing there.  I had forgotten he was there, I was somewhere else completely.  Then I open my mouth and words release themselves liberally from my lips as if it is natural that I should speak to him.  “I know where Fay is.”

He nods, “Ok Doan. It’s time to go.”

Doan.  All this time, I didn’t realize I had a name.