Now there were three problems that quickly came the surface in living with John, or Johann as I learned his friends called him, the first being my drug addiction. Johann quickly found that gently weening me off the hard stuff was close to impossible, and so one day he got a friend in, together they tied me down, and I went through the most horrid thing I have ever experienced, which includes everything Philippe had done with and to me until that point. The pain I went through… I cannot describe it to even begin to describe it, as my body returned to normal rhythms. It took me a long time to get over, and still at some times when life is hard I still find I long for it, but now know where that read leads me, and so I don’t, unless I slip up, in which case I hate myself and try even harder afterwards.
Secondly Johann turned out to be a bit of a germophobe, and with all the sex with different people I had had, and as Johann couldn’t very well take me to a clinic to have me checked out for STDs. TO solve this, I had to take cures for all of them, not knowing if I even had any as I showed no symptoms. The upside of this was that after this I only had to worry about the incurable ones, as well as the big one, AIDS. Johann never did anything with me without a condom, and even wore rubber doctors gloves when he had sex. I felt so dirty, so … bad, during those times, but we got through it.
Thirdly Johann turned out to be Aryan Nation, or Neo-Nazi’s for those who don’t know the term. The swastika on his neck had been a clear indication, but having gone through all of that I just mentioned, I never really saw it as a problem until I got clean again and he started showing me off as ‘his girlfriend’ to his friends. Now Johann was quite a jealous man. Where in the last 2 years I had learned, dare I say trained, to please those around me, Johann didn’t like it at all when I flirted with the people he hung out with. In his eyes I was his, and his alone. It was strange at first, as I found I longed for the attention and approval of everyone around me, but got only his. But when he punched through a wall in a fit of rage to make a point, I quickly changed my ways. It took some getting used to, in the hope not to offend my savior, ans I retreated in a shell of shyness, only to be my true self, or what I thought was my true self namely the slut I had been trained to be, in the bedroom. And basically I am those two persons to this day, the shyness and the completely limitless, and they are hard to combine, but I call both of them mine, part of me.
I also learned how Johann had gotten to be there to get me out. He had been a drugs courier to Philippe, which is why he wanted me off it; he knew the risks of it. Until this day I never heard from Philippe again, nor of any reprisal for my disappearance. And I don’t really know why, but he is one of the people I have the most nightmares about. Not because he was a monster, but because if I ever came face to face with him again, I might fall in love with him all over again, as that is what my nightmares are about. I know that is impossible to understand, and I don’t even know if I understand it myself. Maybe it is Stockholm Syndrome, of loving your captor for small acts of kindness because there is nothing else to love, but maybe it is something deeper. I am afraid that something dark inside of me admired him for what he did, and especially how he did it, something dark that rubbed off from him onto me, because as soon as white gets tainted with any other color, it will never be white again. Or maybe it is that he saw something in me, an older darkness that was already there, and he fulfilled my longing for pain, to suffer on the outside so that, even for a moment, I wouldn’t hurt so much inside. Or maybe it is something I have yet not uncovered in myself, or permitted myself to accept.