#Chapter275
I remember well, the hysteria and mess every time that man laid hands on me. He loved nothing more than to document how brutally he used his victims and most of those pictures show me bloody and broken. Various states of delusion as my brain tried to detach from the horrendous acts befalling me and save me mentally. Sometimes I would float on the ceiling, looking down on my lifeless body and watch him ravage me until I bled. It’s a miracle my body is not more twisted and scarred and dysfunctional than it is.
Rick liked to document his perversions on film, in stills, and motion, for some sort of satisfying ego boost. He was a sick fuck who kept a filing cabinet of girls’ names and folders and thousands of pictures he would make us help develop and store for him. That was how twisted he was. He did it to us, filmed it and then made us help him turn them into viewable items for his collection.
