When I was ten years old the torture group started talking suicide with me. It’s apparently a common topic of torture. I remember this one episode. I was sent to my room for being bad and I was crying. I heard myself think something about killing myself. I looked up at the ceiling where I believed the camera was. I heard my thought voice say “If I die mommy will be sad.” I told you the torture group talked to me years before the schizophrenia.
The torture group considers my body precious only for as long as it will endure the torture. They don’t take great care of me. There are two incidents during which the torturers tested out how it would be to make me self harm. First they had me stab myself on the forearm. Next they tried burning my wrist with a cigarette. I’d say these two acts of violence were not the torturers preference. They never did them after this.
Aside from this there were a few incidents of getting me nice and drunk. I was never big on illegal drugs. I’m more of a prescription drug kind of gal. But I’ve tried pot a few times. I remember going to Disneyland high with cousin C the recently deceased. When we were about halfway there the torture group kicked in the psychedelia. The psychedelia is exactly the style of art you see in movies from the sixties representing acid and other drug hallucinations.
So there I was trapped in a car with all four side painted in paisley and euphoria. I looked back and front again trying to see the road. My cousin and sister allowed me to act weird. This stopped and the torture group soon started with the good two shoe nonsense all about how I might get in trouble because the Disneyland employees might discover I was high. so they took me way down on my trip and I was back to normal for a while. Until they took advantage of my drug use to run weird and zany visual and physical sensation attacks. This was eventually ended but I was told to not get high anymore. I only ever did with C. The torture group doesn’t like me to get high. I don’t know why.