what the heck? Are you that She peered into my eyes, genuinely “Melly, brainwashed?” concerned. wait, are I stammered, the dense fog in my head thinning for the first “Melly…. you…” time in years. your mother, darling. safe now, in the she replied. dad and “I’m You’re hospital,” “Your I, we never stopped searching for you. You and Kira have been through something awful, but the doctor says you will recover with time.” For a good three minutes I lie there in complete silence, that woman staring into my soul as I struggled with this new wealth of information. Scenes of the rickety riverboat, my smiling parents, clasping hand all flashed through my brain, streaming through the holes in the Kira’s freshly broken fog. All the while my brain kept repeating, is pain, pain is pleasure, “Pleasure pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure.” ---------------------------------- been four months since we were rescued from Camp Ecstasy. had a steady It’s We’ve stream of reporters and camera men trampling the bison fur rug in the living room. Dad calls them our He bought a new Outback during our five years in hell. This one “personal paparazzi.” is more of a beige than a hunter green, and can make it up hills a lot faster than the old dump. With the pills slowly working their way out of my system, recovery has been hard. I think been the worst for Kira since she is younger and more impressionable. Just two weeks it’s ago, my mom caught her banging her head against the wall in the bathroom, chanting the Ecstasy
“Melly, what the heck? Are you that brainwashed?” She peered into my eyes, genuinely concerned. “Melly…. wait, are you…” I stammered, the dense fog in my head thinning for the first time in years. “I’m your mother, darling. You’re safe now, in the hospital,” she replied. “Your dad and I, we never stopped searching for you. You and Kira have been through something awful, but the doctor says you will recover with time.” For a good three minutes I lie there in complete silence, that woman staring into my soul as I struggled with this new wealth of information. Scenes of the rickety riverboat, my smiling parents, clasping Kira’s hand all flashed through my brain, streaming through the holes in the freshly broken fog. All the while my brain kept repeating, “Pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure, pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure.” ---------------------------------- It’s been four months since we were rescued from Camp Ecstasy. We’ve had a steady stream of reporters and camera men trampling the bison fur rug in the living room. Dad calls them our “personal paparazzi.” He bought a new Outback during our five years in hell. This one is more of a beige than a hunter green, and can make it up hills a lot faster than the old dump. With the pills slowly working their way out of my system, recovery has been hard. I think it’s been the worst for Kira since she is younger and more impressionable. Just two weeks ago, my mom caught her banging her head against the wall in the bathroom, chanting the Ecstasy
FrontMatterandStoriesRevised.docx