Excerpt From Dirty Business:
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Dave continued. “I know those weeks in the mountains were tough, and maybe it’s just me, but when I look into your eyes, I get the feeling there is more to the story than you have told me. There’s something broken in your eyes, the way you look at people. I have seen it before. Many times. In war-torn countries where we were pursuing the enemy and wherever we moved forward to push them back, we saw women and children with the exact same look in their eyes. They were usually raped…”
I was shocked! And felt weird. What did he mean? I knew some of what happened on that mountain, but I had a black hole in my memory, so I didn’t remember everything.
I don’t think I was ready to talk about it, but he must have seen the panic on my face.
“If something happened and you don’t wanna talk about it’s completely all right. I mean… I’m not the one to judge you. The way your shirt was cut open when we found you indicates…”
Wham!!! Images and smells from my blackout overwhelmed me completely. I felt shameful and furious at the same time. I knew they did something to me…
And Dave knew!!!
On the one hand, I didn’t have the courage to talk about it. On the other hand, something in me needed to let the anger out.
I didn’t know where to start, and while thinking back, I felt the tears begin to flow silently from my eyes.
“I don’t remember. I think they raped me, but I have a gap in my time line. Some hours are missing. I only know because I was bleeding, and the pain shot through me like lightning. And I also have this feeling that they abused me. I’m completely messed up. It’s like my body remembers something, but my mind doesn’t.”
He took my hand but kept a certain physical distance. I think he understood I didn’t want any man close right now.
“I understand if something in you shuts down. It’s a natural reaction. There were more than a dozen men! And if they weren’t dead already, I would feel immense pleasure in killing them all over again. Just more slowly. Were you afraid?”
“I can’t remember… but I am afraid now. I’m shit scared to learn if…what they did to me. I’m not sure I wanna remember,” I said, trembling while my voice failed shortly.
Then I noticed a subtle shaking in my body, and in ten seconds, I was shivering. In ten more, I was shaking completely out of control. I was crying and screaming, and I was shit scared. Again. I fell out of the chair and hit the floor. Couldn’t get up. Ended in a fetal-like position, still shaking. I remember Dave putting his hand under my head to protect me from the floor.
“Don’t stop it!” Dave commanded. “Keep going! Everything is all right. I got you! Your body remembers something traumatic and is dealing with it by trembling! Keep it up!
e afraid! Shake it and break it! Breathe it!! Breathe!”
“There’s someone on top of me, and I can’t get him off of me, I shouted while crying.
“Throw him off! It is YOUR body! He has NO right!
Dave leaned over me, but the only thing I saw was long-bearded, stinking men forcing themselves upon me.
I pushed and pushed, and I shouted, “GET OFF OF ME!!! GET OFF!!! GET OFF!!!”
I was horrified. In a panic, and it felt like I was fighting for my life.
Think the shaking and shouting only lasted half a minute or so, and slowly I came back. Dave helped me sit up straight. It was like the aftermath of a grenade exploding.
he remaining and working parts of me slowly returned, and I kinda collected and reunited them into a new me.
I was exhausted but felt somewhat relieved.
“You ok?” Dave asked.
“Think so…”
“I think I remember something. Could feel them on top of me. I know I was pushing you, but it felt like I was pushing the scumbags away for real. Thanks for doing that.
elt good. Like a victory. Thanks for having the guts to ‘play’ one of them and be ‘rejected’ by me. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But I know there is a hell of a difference between telling someone to fuck off and showing them to fuck off. The latter is much more powerful.”
“Sure is! Thanks, man!”
“I need something to drink. Can I bring you anything?” Dave asked, already headed for the kitchen.
“You have some juice or a cold beer?”
“Both! I’ll get you a beer.”
Fifteen seconds later, he returned with two ice-cold beers.
“This is from a brewery run by one of my old teammates in the army. He has produced beer for many years now, and it tastes awesome. It’s rich and smooth—exactly how I like it. He calls it Brewberry Beer!”
“Ahh—sounds delicious!”
He handed me the beer, and it tasted like a dream!
“Cheers, man!”
“Cheers, gal and welcome back!”
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