"But you said the voice belonged to an English man with a northern, possibly Liverpudlian accent. Yanni is Australian. I don't understand?" Daisy is puzzled.
"Noooo, Yanni didn't send the message, no way.....and you think I'm crazy! No..... Yanni was there!! Yanni was at my house... with me, he stayed over after we.....
...he has a twin brother you know! I found that out tonight, he's been keeping it a secret from me... why would he do that? What possible reason would he have for that? He's an arsehole, I don't like him..." I pout, and Daisy smiles the smile of people throughout the land who endure listening to nonsense out of politeness, or for work, when what they really want is to cut to the chase, really get to the crux of the matter and be done! Failing that they want to shake you until your head falls off. But they don't! She is a smart woman, she saw that dodge, the swerve away from why Yanni was at my house, and what we were doing!
I am procrastinating! Refusing to acknowledge the fact that I remember every intimate detail of my night with Yanni. My very LONG night with Yanni. EVERY throbbing, pulsing, dirty, blissfully sexy detail! CLEARLY!!
My seat is now ridiculously uncomfortable, I squirm trying to find a position that doesn't send shivers of need through me. There isn't one!
This frustration makes me angry and I turn it on myself. Here we are, me on the Fruit Farm with my own one to one shrinky dink, discussing the fact that I've obviously been raped, although we aren't mentioning that yet, and been left traumatised with the blood of a dead scouser ruining my newly refurbished, gorgeous oak floor! Flashes of memory that all involve sex, pain, torment and fear have been making their way out of deep storage and they are abhorrent, terrifying and deranged yet here I am, wriggling around on my chair like a worm on a fishing hook, trying to find the dead spot that shuts off these carnal desires, desires I should not be having after being so badly abused in the past!
Am I a twisted bitch?! Do I invite shit into my life? I've wished a million times that I had never met Harry. He is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, the orchestrator of every single nightmare I have lived through. I've come to understand that he is a very, very disturbed man and I am convinced I know why that is.
His mum was always away filming so he had no constant maternal figure in his life. He was basically raised by a housekeeper and an endless procession of 'other women' who all only lasted a few weeks and didn't care to be surrogate mothers to a young boy, but their interest was always greater as he grew up. Harry lost his virginity at 14 years old to one of his fathers lovers, a woman of 29 years old! I'm certain that it wasn't 100% consensual, that the woman took advantage of him after plying him with beer and marijuana, but despite giving me these details at the start of our relationship he would never admit that was the case, and actually bragged about that in public. I think he is ashamed that he was weaker than a woman, that he was used and discarded, after all, he was the handsome son of 2 famous, wealthy and gorgeous parents, he should be the one using and discarding others! Henry mainly ignored his son, but when he did spend time with the impressionable teenage Harry he would regale him with details of all his conquests, giving each woman scores out of 10 for their looks, boob size and erm... special talents, inadvertently teaching his child that women have little value other than to satisfy men's needs. His dad was also a very busy man... and occasionally it was even because he was working!
Henry Hartwell is, to not put too fine a point on it, a total slut! This man is everything that is wrong in a man. A complete narcissist, absolutely convinced that the only purpose of everything and everyone else on Earth is to satisfy his needs and desires. No concerns for the feelings of his wife, so full of self importance that he truly believes he can behave in any way he chooses without retribution.
Why won't I talk about any of that with Daisy? Am I just shy? No, I'm not shy, I feel that she will judge me. She will think I'm stupid for getting involved with someone like Harry. Surely it'll be said that I must have asked for it, encouraged him, or invited him over, that I was up for anything, after all, I had just had the most exquisitely fulfilling sex with an incredibly hot man, a man I have known for only 12 weeks.... a man I hardly know at all really. I must be the whore Harry often enjoyed calling me.
I fell into bed, well... I climbed into the shower with Yanni pretty quickly, how can I want, need and have sex after my past? I can't be alright in the head. We have been growing closer, spending more time together, dancing around each other for weeks, our flirting increasing, our time spent together lengthening, feelings developing, still, I shouldn't have been as desperate for him as I was!
I asked for it!
I chose to have sex... I wanted to.... so I can't be suffering PTSD because of sexual assault. If I was traumatised by sex then I'd never want it ever again, right?!
"Why do you believe that you deserve to have been treated this way Sydney? Tell me why you are undeserving of a happy, loving, fulfilling, romantic and fuck filled life?
Yes..... I did say fuck. People fuck Sydney, and it's normal, it helps with depression by stimulating the release of endorphins, the body's 'happy hormone', it's good exercise, helps people relax so can assist with sleeping for some insomnia sufferers, oh.... and it's also just fantastic fun!!
You are allowed to have fun in the present.... you SHOULD be having fun in the present, because yesterday has passed never to be regained, and tomorrow may never arrive. Live in the now! Don't let the misdoings of others ruin you. They have tarnished you, and you might not ever sparkle as fully as you did, but you will shine again. Believe me!! You will" she implored, her tone so earnest and gentle.
I don't hate her..... quite as much!
"Daisy? Is your life as happy as it seems? Do you have all your ducks in a row, happy home in the burbs, successful husband, 2.4 kids, a Cockapoo and a holiday cottage in Dorset!?" I ask with an edge of annoyance. "Are you living the dream? I can't imagine you are, spending all your time in prison with the criminally crazy! How can you help me when you have no idea what I've been through?
I can't do this. I can't be helped!
I can't.... just forget, what he did... *hic*... what he did to me, what he made me do! He is so *hic* dangerous, he terrifies me... I'll never be safe, don't you see??!
The Northerner, the messenger..... he was sent to remind me.... that I will always be his, never free. He told me that..... he said that!"
Garbled words leave my mouth at an incredible rate, I'm not even certain what I'm trying to say, but I hear Daisy soothingly telling me it's all ok.
"It can't be! It can never be... If I don't remember who killed that man in my house then I stay here, assumed to be the killer.
If I do remember who it was then someone I care about may end up in jail instead.
What kind of choice is that? I condemn myself or someone I love.
Am I allowed a visit from a Lawyer? Can I consult counsel?"
"You can have a lawyer visit you"
"Get me Ferdi.... please! I'd like to speak to a lawyer!