From a Caterpillar to a Butterfly: the Transformation from Victim to Victorious

By Angel Power

This book is the prequel to “The Darkness & The Light”, also by Angel Power. These are the stories that go with the poetry. It is creatively broken down into metaphorical phases of a young woman’s transformation. Based on a true story, except for one fictitious scene that was written for therapeutic purposes, it begins with the end and ends with the beginning. Candid and raw, it exposes the dark reality of her tragic experiences and shares how she found the resilience to survive and transform. It will take you on a journey through overcoming exploitation, abuse, human trafficking, addictions, poverty, mental health challenges, the loss of a child, and more. It will explain stigma and the corruption of the social systems that claim to protect the most vulnerable. This will enlighten the reader to systemic injustices and the impacts on our vulnerable youth when protection is needed most. There is often prejudice toward high-risk youth and the challenges they face, especially those trying to cope with unmet needs. This book will bring validation to the reader from young adult to the guardians trying to protect them, as well as those who work in the field of trying to help them. It exposes some of the power imbalances and barriers that many women of all ages can face. In these confusing and scary times, exploitation continues to be on the rise and stigma still exists. It is hoped that this book will empower the victimized to find healthy coping mechanisms and natural ways of self-healing. For those who wish to protect them it may also provide some insights into never giving up the good fight that it takes in order to do so.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665550024

Angel Power

Angel is an acclaimed Author and Motivational Speaker, as well as an Advocate, Activist, Artist, and Poet. She is also a Survivor Consultant, Peer Support Worker, Light Worker, self-healer and Mentor. She is an Advisor for poverty reduction strategies and the implementation of a major research study examining the impacts of human trafficking and youth homelessness and poverty. She released her first book, “The Darkness & The Light” in 2016 and has been featured in articles and dissertations and at schools, churches, reserves and more. She shares her story for prevention and validation and to expose darkness, shed light on survivor resilience and empowerment, and inspire change. Angel- Wjiika’qaku Pi’gun (Raven Feather) is mixed blood with Mi’kmaq, Acadian and Irish and Icelandic ancestral ties and is Lynx Clan on her mom’s side. She practices the old ways including certain Indigenous and Pagan practices and is passionate about reclaiming what has been stolen and stigmatized. She is eclectic in her Spirituality and honors diversity of belief systems. Along her healing journey, she has been led to and embraced plant medicines and the powers of Mother Nature, sound healing, solitude, ceremony and more. She has a diploma with Honours in Social Service Work, is a certified Practitioner and Instructor of Axiatonal Alignment Therapy and has completed Level One Reiki and will soon achieve her Master of Reiki. Angel asks Great Spirit to work through her to help her help others and goes to where she is called to be of service. Contact her to share feedback, invite her to speak at your event or book a consultation, sound healing session or more. Please reach out if you or someone you know are looking for resources. [e-mail] fb@angelwjikaqakupower IG@victoriousresilience

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© 2022 Angel Power. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   03/10/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-4972-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5002-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022900936

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Disclaimer

I started this book about fifteen years before I ever completed it, when I felt so desperate and defeated that I seriously contemplated vigilante justice. The value of starting this book so long ago is that there are details recorded that I would never have been able to remember had I not documented it then. My main reason for starting this book was for my own therapeutic purposes and to vent and process. I have always referred to it as I puked it out. I needed to get it out of me.

However, this is not my full story. There are some incidents that are too disturbing to recount and things that I’d never want to talk about, and other things I want to spare my mom and brother from ever knowing to prevent any further heartache. Even though I left a lot out, there is still alot of disturbing and graphic content so the reader may consider skipping to lighter chapters, especially if you are one of my loved ones or those who care for me reading this. There is also alot that I could not include in this book in order to ensure my own safety and that is something I struggle with. There are major pieces of my story that I cannot disclose. Regarding what I have disclosed, I have changed names and identifying details and omitted locations for this reason. Otherwise, every experience recounted is true, and the poetry is all based on true stories also.

This book is not intended as a substitute for the medical or spiritual advice of professionals. The reader is encouraged to regularly consult professionals as needed relating to their mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention or alternative healing.

There is content in this book that may be triggering for some readers. As stated above, please skip any part that is too difficult to read if needed and please be gentle with yourself. I encourage the reader to seek safe support and to remember that self-love and self-care are invaluable. Even if we feel unable to love ourselves, self-care leads to self-love so we can start there, even just by taking small, simple steps.

Included in this book are my personal experiences, views, interests and beliefs and they may not be right for everyone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my mentors and employers. My views and beliefs might even be different for me in the future as I continue growing and learning and unlearning.

I use the terminology sex trade only because it is one of the most common terms. I do not believe that it is sex that is exchanged because as we know, consent is free and sober, and I do not believe it is a trade either. Please note that regarding my spirituality, I personally am very eclectic, and my background is mixed and complex. Throughout this book I use the terms Creator, God/Goddess or Great Spirit, or Higher Power or The Source, to name a few. Whatever you call it is right for you and I do not intend to minimize anyone’s definition. I use the words interchangeably only because for me it is not about what we call our faith or Higher Power. On my personal path although we weren’t part of a church, I was raised with some Christian principals. I was also raised with The Grandfather Teachings and was taught to respect and cherish the animals and the land. As I grew, during my difficult times I was also drawn to Buddhist principals which helped me cope. Later, while discovering my authentic self I also discovered Pagan roots and I could see how I was brought up with many of these principals and healing methods as well. There is a plurality in my connection to spirituality, but this is not intended to challenge or offend anyone. I am a seeker of knowledge- not an expert.

Contents

Part 1: The End

Plan of Revenge

Huntress

The Hit List

The Vengeful Deed

Monsters

Part 2: Life as Larva: The Caterpillar

Maternal Roots

Fights at Funerals

Paternal Roots

Childhood

Stolen Youth

The Systems

The Pregnancy

Death by Domestic Violence

Miscarriage of Justice

The Loyal Girlfriend Role

The Criminal Justice System – No Justice for Victims

Groomed

Trafficked

The Strip Clubs

The Agencies

Revictimized

The Overdose

The Desire to Change

The Wannabe Hero

Naïve

The Honeymoon Phase

Warning Signs

Manipulation Tactics

Emotional, Verbal & Psychological Abuse

The Cycle

Isolated

Assault Causing Bodily Harm

Trapped

A Changed Man

The Escape

The Arrest

The Next Three Months

Reoffender #2

Courtroom Corruption

Victim Blaming

Dismissed

The Suicide Attempt

The Psychiatric Institution

The People Behind the Labels

Crazy Making

Traumatic Trauma Treatment

Dissociation & Regression as Coping Mechanisms

From Dehumanized to Criminalized

Addiction & The Surrender

Challenges & Setbacks

The Women’s Shelter & Supportive Housing

Trauma Bonds & Vicarious Trauma

Retrafficked

Police Corruption

Terrorized

Stuck in Cycles

Dominating the Game

Toxic Friendships

Toxic Masculinity & Double Standards

Toxic Family & Paternal Rejection

Numbness & Pain

Part 3: Into the Cocoon

Healing

The Comforts of Nature & Solitude

The Inner Shift & The Return

Part 4: The Metamorphosis

Choices

Pawsitive Thinking & The Power of Meow

Boundaries & Detachment for Self Preservation

Reclaim & Transform

Teachings

Survivor’s Guilt & Survivor’s Strength

Earth Angels

Miracles

Trust in Creator’s Plan

Letters from My Mom

Letter to My Younger Self

Acknowledge & Accept

Letting Go

Evolution of the Spirit

Part 5: The Beginning

Rebirth

Part 6: Caterpillar Conclusions

Mr.E

Era of the Ego

Human Trafficking Awareness

Before It Had a Name

The Game

Detached

Acceptance & Reframing

Though it Seems Unfair

Deadbeat Dad

The Message

Excuse Me

Mother to No one, Maternal to All

Part 7: Butterfly Affirmations

Reflections

The Journey to Arise

Graceful Power

Empowered Butterfly

One with Nature

Butterfly Wisdom

Survivor’s Strength

From a Caterpillar to a Butterfly

Afterword

Gratitude

About the Author

PART 1

The End

I was at the end of my rope,

They didn’t care about the words I wrote, and

they wouldn’t listen to the words I spoke.

I was attacked and provoked.

I was at a dead end, and I couldn’t pretend

that I had much faith or hope.

I was dead inside, and I began to believe that revenge was justified.

And so, I planned to take his life –

After all, it seemed it was going to be his or mine.

I had to end it – there were other options I tried,

But I’d been backed into a corner, my hands literally tied.

We only get one life, and I knew this isn’t how I want to spend it,

So, I contemplated vigil anti justice and I set out to end it.

I was once the beasts’ prey, but that comes to an end today.

The hunted has become the hunter,

A monster, created by a monster,

Let no innocent people get in the way.

Let only the wicked suffer.

I put down my pen

And I tried to comprehend

The coldness and cruelty I’ve seen in men.

They had no remorse and of course there was no making amends-

I was stuck and it seemed I had no choices because,

I was just one of the many silenced voices and this was…

The end.

To those who Judge me:

He made me do it.

Life was hell and he put me through it.

They’d never make him pay and he knew it.

I told him he’d regret what he did to me.

I had to prove it.

To those who tried to harm me:

May whatever you try to bring onto me be returned to you times three.

You got away with so much; stop while you’re ahead.

You tried to destroy me, but I got stronger instead.

To all those who looked the other way,

To those who silenced me or dismissed violence against me:

The truth will be seen.

People will hear what I have to say.

It didn’t have to come to this

You could have intervened, and it may never have been, but you chose to walk away.

Plan of Revenge

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My hands are trembling and my heart’s rapidly beating. Inhale- exhale – inhale –exhale. I try to calm my nerves. I must stay focused. I am high on adrenaline, and drunk off anger, pain, and confusion. I have never felt so powerful and confident. I am fearless; but it’s because I have become the one who should be feared.

It has been years and years of living in fear and facing injustices. I have been made to feel unworthy, unacknowledged, invalidated, and it feels like I’m going crazy. I have been mistreated by many and turned away by others. I have fallen through cracks, and I’ve been dismissed. That is just the recent years, and before that, it was years of hell. It was a different kind of hell but equally as intense, if not more. I have not seen the devil since he laughed as I cried, some years ago. Tonight though, I am seeking him out, going to his dwelling, and playing his game. I must end it. The pain of feeling dehumanized and dismissed, the nightmares that haunted me, the cycle I’d been stuck in, the powerlessness I’d been feeling, the smug smile on his face and the unjust reality of my predicament; I want and need to end it.

I have postponed it, dreaded it, and tried to forget about it. I’ve had nightmares about it, and I’ve fantasized about it. What I do tonight, is the last resort. Tonight, I take little to no accountability for my actions, and as I do the sinful deed that tempted me so powerfully, I can honestly look around and say, They made me do it. I’m nervous, nauseous, and numb. I am ready.

Life has been hell for too long and I can’t take it anymore. In my world, hell on earth was ruled by one abusive man after the next, with one of the most recent being Craig. He has evil in his eyes, and images of the devil tattooed on his skin. He is manipulative, he preys on the weak, and he is addicted to power and control. He is a monster, with big legs like tree trunks and big hands like a catcher’s glove. When he’s angry, his nostrils flare and his teeth clench. His eyes glaze over and burn through you, and veins start to pop out of his neck as his face becomes more red. It seems irrational for me to be going to see him, and it seems even more irrational for me to provoke the beast, but everything seems irrational, and nothing makes sense, so –

Is this where you want out Miss? This street up here? the cab driver interrupts my thoughts. Yes. Right up here. I direct him to a house three blocks from my actual destination and get dropped off out front. I grab my backpack, thank the driver, and start walking up the driveway as slowly as I can to give the cabbie time to drive away. I pretend to drop something and pick it up, I untie, and retie my shoe, and by this time when I look up the cab has disappeared down the street. I turn and head in the opposite direction, to my real destination; the house I was to share with the devil.

It’s pitch black other than the moonlight and it is dead silent other than the sound of crickets chirping. Not one car passes by me on the old country road, and I am grateful. I don’t want to be seen. After about five minutes, I have come to his road. Inhale- exhale – inhale – exhale. I pray, Creator, forgive me for what I am about to do. I know that you had a different plan for me, please forgive me, I see no other way. Please have mercy on my soul, my intentions are not evil. Please, forgive me for what I am about to do, and for what I have already done.

Like a zombie, I slowly walk up Craig’s street. One of the last times I saw him he made false promises and fake apologies and before that, it was the last night he carelessly pushed me around, threw a couple of bottles at me, and lifted me off the floor by my throat. What am I doing? I ask myself aloud. "Why am I even going back to see his face?" But I’ve had second thoughts before, and I’ve tried to talk myself out of it since the beginning, but I see no other way. I tried to leave him, and I tried to do things right. I tried to forgive them all and move on. It did not work out for me. Like he assured me, after leaving him things got even worse on entirely new levels. I would never be able to move on from this. No, I have no choice. A person can only take so much before they snap.

The abuse that I suffered at his hands was twisted, vicious, and cruel. As his victim, brainwashed, broken down and beaten up, I didn’t think things could get worse. Then, after breaking free of his toxic spell, I endured inconceivable minimizing and mocking at the hands of the court; even the crown prosecutor; the one who is supposed to represent the people and prosecute the criminals. I endured victim blaming, attacks and false allegations about my character and my life were carelessly made. Then, when they failed to make me snap or crumble, they used a convenient judicial loophole to dismiss everything he did to me. This was the harshest insult upon injury, and it is what has driven me to this point, (not to mention everything that happened to me after that).

The injuries were inflicted by Craig, but the justice system, (which I’ll refer to as simply, the system because there is no justice), the system inflicted the final insult to the essence of my humanity. It didn’t matter that I was just a kid at the time, and he was twenty years older than me, or that I was trafficked into the stripclub where he found me, but he was there willingly. I was the bad guy, and he was the poor guy who got involved with a crazy stripper, the male crown attorney and lawyer seemed to think. Now, so many years later, I am still unable to process it. So, I have tried my best to repress it, yet it has continued to haunt me. It effects my daily life and somehow things just continue to get worse. I feel convinced that I am doing what is right, because what I thought was wrong wasn’t treated as wrong. If something is not wrong it’s right, so that would make what I thought was wrong right, right? My thoughts drove me crazy and trying to comprehend reality drove me crazy too.

Despite how bitter I have become, being here on this road still pulls at my heart strings. No matter how many terrible memories there are, there were almost as many great ones- it was the ups and downs that drove me crazy too. But I thought it then and know for sure now; they were too good to be true. Plus, I can’t look at it that way. I must remember that no matter how many good memories, there are more horrible ones. It is those that will haunt me and give me nightmares and flashbacks. It is those that changed me forever, and I will never be the same. It is his true colors, not his fake charm that I must remember now. Naturally, just in time, I snap out of my deep thoughts to see that I have almost reached his house.

I know he is alone because I’ve been preparing for this moment, and I know his every move. I walk up the driveway like I own the place. I do not hesitate. I go straight to the door. It’s unlocked, and I casually enter. He is on the couch in the living room, which the door opens to. As soon as it opens, he spins around and stands up. When he realizes it’s me, he doesn’t seem surprised, and he isn’t concerned. He just stands there, and he laughs and shakes his head. Then his eyes start to well with tears and when he speaks his tone is soft and he sobs. I know this look, that voice, I know this character too well. I had fallen for it many times before. Poor Craig, he wanted me to believe. When he speaks, it is between sobs and he says, Oh my God. I knew you’d come back. His sobs would easily convince a less seasoned prey, but I am immune to his tactics. He hugs me and pulls me close. Slowly, emotionlessly, I raise my arms and return his embrace.

It was time to test my acting skills and time for the performance of a lifetime. I put on my game face, which he had taught me so well. Although the tears that were welling in my eyes were genuine, I was focusing on being the character that would suit my purpose. I had joined his game. I told him that I was sorry that I ever left him, and that life had been hell since I left. (Part of which was true). I told him he was right, and I was wrong, and that I was willing to listen to him, and do things his way.

Blah, blah, blah, blah; it went on for hours. He told me how much he loved and missed me, and I told him how much I loved and missed him, repeatedly. Then, we talked about unrealistic hopes, and he made impossible promises for what seemed like hours, but I knew it was only one hour, three minutes, and forty-two seconds. Forty-three…forty-four…forty-five…I sat there, like a robot. Almost two hours went by, and he just held me, talking. Blah, blah, blah, blah; I didn’t listen to what he was saying. I was numb to him playing with my emotions, and deaf to his deceitful words. It did not matter that he was experienced in his tactics, and I was not. After being the victim of his tactics for so long, he became predictable; and being new at his old game, I am not. Hours passed and we did not leave the couch, except for when he got up to go to the bathroom and I poured us drinks.

I let him talk for hours and went along with whatever he said. When he held me, I placed my hand between my heart and his body so that he wouldn’t feel it beating so abnormally fast and hard. It felt like it was going to pound through my chest. As he gently rubbed my back with his monstrous hand, I tried not to cringe and when he gently kissed me, I tried not to vomit. When he looked into my eyes, I was hoping he didn’t see my hatred and disgust.

Although we had not seen each other for so long, he never required an explanation for me randomly showing up at his house. He was so arrogant that he seemed to expect it. He didn’t even bring up the past. I told him that even though he had caused me so much pain, it was even more painful when I tried to leave and do things the legal way. It was also dangerous out there in the world damaged and without his protection. He just said, I told you.

He said he thought about me often and had missed me. He said he knew I would come back, and that "Even though I had done him wrong, he was willing to forgive me." He never failed to baffle my mind with his utter disregard and denial of reality. He would never get it. He would never comprehend the degree of how immoral and unacceptable his behavior was. He would not even take responsibility for his actions, and no one would hold him accountable. That’s why I was here.

Huntress

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As the conversation progressed, I could only hold my tongue for so long. When he repeated how he could forgive me, this time, I had to speak up. He had to hear the truth and accept it. I asked him, What would you do to someone who preyed on you, violated you, humiliated you, degraded you – but before I could finish, he interrupted me, and said with a cocky smile, No one would."

No one fucks with me, he bragged. They know better. He stood up to tower over me and stared me in the eyes. He was about to use ‘the look’ and the ‘voice,’ that were now so predictable they were no longer intimidating. Soon his face would grow red and veins in his neck and head would become visible. He would grind his teeth, and his nostrils would flare. He would stare into my eyes with his intense, cold glare. Then he would speak in a tone that was eerily calm. I was waiting for it, but instead he stumbled abruptly a couple steps backward and grasped his head in his hands. What’s wrong? I asked. You look a little pale. I… don’t feel so well, he muttered, and within seconds, he collapsed backward, onto the couch.

Craig? Craig? I asked, as I lightly slapped his cheeks in attempt to wake him up. Then I slapped him harder. Still, there was no response. Finally! I thought. Finally, the Rohypnol that I slipped in his drink had taken affect. I should have known I would need a lot for such an oversized, monstrous, beast of a man. Still, so far, everything had gone as planned. However, the man I was dealing with was evil and I was terrified of what he could do, so shaking, I grabbed my bag, and worked quickly to tie him up.

He was twice my age, twice my weight, and he had attacked me so many times. There were multiple times that I could have been killed when I was attacked, for no reason. Now, he would have a reason to be angry so I would have to remember my plan and use my preparation and training, or else things could go very wrong. Adrenaline hit me and took over my entire body.

I moved the coffee table and dragged the couch, with him on it, toward the banister which had iron bars adjoined to a railing and was built solid to the floor. With all my strength, I rolled him off the couch, onto the floor. I was not trying to be gentle, and it took several attempts. Eventually, I had him where I wanted him. I lifted his heavy hands and legs and expertly tied them together. After tying and retying his hands and legs numerous times, I tied him to the banister. I could not take any chances.

I was sweating now, and out of breath. I surprised myself by my strength and how easily I tied him up. It is amazing how much drive and determination anger gives you. It is dead silent, other than the sound of my heavy breathing. I turn on the television to drown it out. I close all the blinds and make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

I gathered a couple power tools from the basement to drown out the noise for when he tried to scream for help, or for mercy. Since he was constantly renovating the house and building things, he used these tools regularly, so it would not seem unusual if the neighbors were disturbed by the sounds. It wasn’t often things worked out so perfectly for me.

I did some journaling, texted my mom and brother to tell them I loved them, stared at the walls, lost in my thoughts, and then I looked at my watch. Four hours passed. I poked Craig. Hey big fella.

He was still groggy and didn’t respond. My head, he said in pain, Oh, my head. As he went to grasp his head in his hands, he realized he was tied up. He started to struggle, but quickly realized there was no point. Then he started to panic. He flexed all the muscles in his body and tried to rip the ropes off him, like the Hulk. He gave himself too much credit and he did not give me enough.

The Hit List

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I look down at him, shaking my head. You’re tied with four different ropes, in at least four different kinds of knots; the surgeon’s knot, the double fisherman’s knot, the square knot, and the constrictor knot. Also, I used double overhand sliding loops, and zigzag turns. I was going to use cable ties, like you did with me, but I thought they might be too weak for your demonic strength; although, just coming off the Rohypnol, you’re probably feeling dazed. Oh, and the power saw. Well, it serves multiple purposes. Don’t try to scream for help or I’ll have to kill our ears with it to drown you out.

What the fuck! You’re fucking crazy! he yelled. I use his own tactics that I know so well and look him dead in the eyes and intensify my gaze. In a calm and even tone I respond, You always said I was crazy. Crazy, worthless, whore; these were your words, so why are you just now concerned?

He stopped struggling as his anger began to transform into acceptance. He knew he was not getting loose. His tone changed as his bravery decreased and bargaining became his next approach. When he spoke, his voice was no longer cold and dominant; it was shaky and weak. He was desperate and vulnerable. What are you doing? Please don’t do this, he pleaded. What do you want?

It was an interesting question on many different levels. What did I want? There was a time where all my desires and dreams were created and sabotaged by him. Then dreams turned into nightmares and now it does not matter what I want; it’s what I need, and what I need to do. In a low, monotone voice I say, "When did it ever matter what I want? It’s far too late for that now."

I continue, "Right now, I just want to talk. For once, I want you to sit there and listen. Do not interupt, don’t redirect, don’t deny, and don’t defend, don’t attack. Just keep your fucking mouth shut and listen. Other than the swearing and the context, I talk to him like I would talk to a three-year-old and explain, Then, when I’ve finished my turn talking, you can have your turn, but there’s a rule. It is this simple: don’t lie. Sometime after our conversation here, I might leave, and you might go on with your meaningless life. But right now, you are tied up and you’re not going anywhere until I decide. It is just me and you Craig. Your life is in my hands. Own up to your actions. ‘Be a man’, as men put it. Maybe you have gotten away with everything. It was already decided that the judicial form of justice will never prevail. I’ll never have validation, or closure, or justice- in that way."

I grab him by the face, my thumb on one cheek and fingers grabbing the other, crushing his face with my hands harder and harder, like he frequently did to me. Again, my focus on his eyes intensifies, and just loud enough to hear, I enlighten him with the single most important fact. However, you know, and I know what you did.

I pull up a chair and sit directly in front of him. Then, I quickly decide that I don’t want to sit in a chair while I’m talking to him, I want to stand up and look down on him. Please state your name for the record. He laughs, but my face is stern. I’m serious. I am starting you off with simple questions to let you practice telling the truth a little bit. Just state your name please.

Craig Edreno. He replied. Clapping my hands and with obvious sarcasm I say Good job! See how that works? Now, since you never went to trial or even infront of a judge for that matter, we are going to do this right here, just me and you. I gotta’ tell ya,’ I think the judge would have been more lenient. I pick up my phone, hit record and place it infront of us.

Now, isn’t it true that you have a history of using violence and intimidation, and you’ve been known to brag about it? After some ‘ums’ and ‘buts’ and ‘uhhs,’ and the nail gun and drill brought out, his stubbornness and uncooperative attitude died away. He admitted that the statement was true. You’ve been violent with both men and women, and have been violent, abusive, and controlling in all of your past relationships, correct? Knowing it was pointless to deny the truth, he admitted that this was true too.

When we met, you portrayed yourself as a hero and did everything in your power to impress me. The night we met when you walked into the strip club, I told you that I had been through hell in my prior relationship and that I couldn’t trust anyone. I portrayed myself as someone I wasn’t as well, but it was to protect you and to protect myself. I told you that I was ruined, that it was too late for me and that my ex-boyfriend had ruined me for you. I told you that I had nothing to offer and that I was a mess, right? I say it all in one breath. My whole body’s shaking and I feel dizzy. Silent, Craig nods.

Then, when you preyed on me and persisted and insisted that you were a good guy, I told you that I could not risk being fucked with again, right? I literally said that I wouldn’t be able to take being hurt or used or violated again, right? Again, he nods and agrees.

"Well then, Craig, when I told you, begged you and pleaded with you not to fuck with me, and I warned you that I wouldn’t be able to take it, I wouldn’t be able to cope if you did, when you continued to prey on me and then viciously violated and abused me, what did you think would happen? When he claimed he didn’t know, I reminded him, I told you what would happen. I told you I wouldn’t be able to take it. I told you I’d snap. You didn’t take me seriously though, or the consequences of tricking me and violating me. You didn’t care. Correct? And you did violate me and abuse me, correct?"

Yes.

The interrogation continues for hours, and he finally admits to everything that he has done to me, although this is what it took. He was an expert manipulator, and he believed his own lies. He believed that he was superior to everyone else and that he was untouchable. He embellished his appearance as a big tough biker and the bad boy. However, he was forty; he was not a bad boy, he was a bad man. He has been this way for longer than I have been alive. He fits the criteria of a narcissist and a psychopath, and he is a very convincing liar. Even in the position he was in, he impulsively tried to defend himself. I had to use the approach of a counselor, and he was my selfish, sick, sadistic, narcissistic client, lost in his denial. I also had to resort to using his methods, like intimidation, and that is the saddest thing of all.

It is so frustrating dealing with evil people. It is draining. They have false pride and enormous egos that they cannot see past. Trying to rationalize with them is exhausting because they reject reason. They do not value the same things, so it’s difficult to determine what would have an impact on them. In the past, it was always impossible to talk to Craig. He was a pathological liar, a hardened manipulator, and he was so convincing that he would have me doubting myself and feeling sorry for him by the end. This is what it took to get him to lose the act. This is what it took to get through to him.

My thoughts are interrupted by him. Angel? he says. There is that look again, the ‘poor me’ look. Angel, please. I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but you’re already in a lot of trouble. You do not want to do this. I love you; I have never stopped loving you. I’m sorry for everything I did and for how I treated you. I will admit to everything. I will turn myself in; I’ll tell the courts everything that I did, okay? I don’t respond, or even look up. Angel?

Finally, I speak. "I’m not concerned about being in trouble with the law. I have seen how the system accommodates criminals and affords them all rights imaginable. Now that I have become the criminal, I’m not afraid about what will happen to me at all. It was as the victim that the courts made it unbearable but as the criminal, finally I will be granted some rights. Obviously, I have already thought this through. First, I have had enough of this world and would be grateful for isolation and to be free of society’s expectations and going through the motions. I will have the necessities of life; plus, all the free counseling I could ever need. I will spend my time writing a book, I will be able to further my education, and any spare time after that, I’ll spend in deep meditation. My jail time will be like a vacation or a spiritual retreat. I will come out more rejuvenated, smarter, and stronger than when I went in. Oh, and since I snapped to such a severe degree, my story will make headlines. Finally, my story will be heard, and maybe the next victim in my shoes will be taken seriously. I am not scared of being victimized in jail either, because when I’m done here, everyone will think I’m psychotic, and no one will want to fuck with me. Out here, in the real world, I constantly fear being victimized anyway. Oh, and since you and incompetent professionals have driven me to this point, I am sure a few people on the jury will understand. I will have the best legal defense ever and I’m sure there are several lawyers who would love to take the high- profile case pro bono. My mom and brother will understand deep down, and they will still love me. Do not worry about me Craig. I’ve thought this through."

You’re crazy! At this point, that is all he can think of to say. I laugh, Even better; then that will be my defense! I now stop recording on my phone, reach into my backpack again, and this time, pull out a gun. I do it so casually that it takes him a couple seconds before he realizes what is in my hand and panics. When he does, he starts screaming. Within seconds his screams are drown out by the power saw. I put it right in front of his face and he shuts up. I really didn’t want to have to use that; the thing is killing my ears. Now shut up or I swear I’ll shoot you right now!

I put the gun to his forehead and drag it down to his temple. Now size doesn’t matter. You are not so tough now. And you cannot buy your way out of this. You’re not untouchable. He’s trembling, and begging me now, Please, please, don’t shoot me. Don’t shoot me. I let him beg a little longer. Then I let him sob. You’re powerless. I tell him. "You’re not untouchable, and you’re not superior. You have gone through your whole life intimidating people, but you are a coward. You only intimidate vulnerable or weak people. I was vulnerable and I was weak, but you underestimated me. Every person has the fight-flight-freeze mechanism in them, and you only instigate fights with those who will choose flight or freeze, by avoiding confrontation, but guess what? My wings are broken, and I can’t fucking fly, and we only remain frozen for so long- however, I’ve got a lot of fight in me.

We also all have a survival mechanism in us, and when attacked to the degree that our life, our loved ones, our integrity, or our spirit is jeopardized, we will fight to the death. I have been fighting for too long. I’m ready for death. Craig looks up and stammering he says, Please Angel. Please, come on I wasn’t that bad. Think of all the good times we had. I love you. There are others who have hurt you way worse than I ever did. What the fuck Angel, come on!"

Now he has triggered me and it’s hard to stay calm, yet somehow, probably because I’m in a dissociative state I’m able to. Oh Craig, your reasoning is so pathetic. To say others have done worse does not dismiss how you did wrong, horrible deeds, it just reminds me of how much I have had to take and why we are where we are today, here and now. However, not to worry, you were not the first on the list and you are not the last. Did you think I was just going to teach you a lesson and let the others off? When I said I was not afraid of jail and would be making headlines, don’t flatter your narcissistic self, I won’t be making headlines just because of you. I am going to get everyone’s attention because I went on a spree. There is a list of you and one by one I’ve finally sat you all down and got my closure. It is a pity you all wouldn’t have it any other way. I tried. Now, any lasts words? I put the gun to his head. He sobs and pleads with terror in his eyes. Really? You’ve got nothing? Now is the time to pray for forgiveness. Still, he just cries and begs. I drag it down his back and pull the trigger, Bang!

The Vengeful Deed

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I yelled it so loud that I almost scared myself. His eyes slowly open, after being winced shut. He cautiously looks around, still unsure if he is alive. I laugh hard. Oh man, you should have seen your face! That was great! I laugh, but quickly turn serious. You did teach me a lot. One lesson was that you never know what people are capable of. You know what else you taught me? You taught me how to kill a man who is twice my size, using only my fist. You probably don’t remember half the things you said to me, but I remember everything.

Stepping closer, I remind him, You told me I could take out any guy if I punch him with all I’ve got, right here I point to his Adam’s apple, then I form a clenched fist. Was that true or was that a lie? Let’s see. I wind back and throw my best punch. I stop, right before making contact. That’s called self-control; and that’s what you’ve always lacked.

I casually sit on the couch and as I put my feet up, he cries. I realize that this is the only time I have heard him genuinely cry. He has sobbed, cried, and begged many times before, but it was based on personal gain and deception. Fear, helplessness, and pain were foreign feelings to Craig, and he was crumbling.

He rarely experiences the feelings because he usually inflicts them. I wanted him to feel the terror and pain that he carelessly, consistently wreaked. It was defeating that it took this. I had to lower myself to his level. Still, he is not afraid because there were repercussions for what he did to me; he was afraid of the gun. He did not feel pain for what he did to me; he felt pain for what was happening to him.

I could warn him, threaten him, give him my worst look, and he would not be afraid. So, I was doing what was necessary to provoke the appropriate emotion that should have been there all along. Amazingly and unfortunately, he would have never felt pain for what he did to me. The only way he would regret it was if he were impacted negatively and if he had to pay for it.

My mom, said, Let karma take care of it. I have a feeling that he’s going to be riding down the highway one day and along comes some big truck with a tired driver beside him, and he learns what it’s like to be small, up against something big. Although I know she meant well and appreciated where she was coming from, my thought was, yeah, and his last thought will be ‘At least I’m going to go out doing what I love!" No point would be made.

People like him do not think abstractly. If I left it to karma or fate and he had horrible luck for the rest of his life, his thoughts would be, Poor me, and ironically, What did I do to deserve this? I do not like what I have to do. I despise what I have become. I cried when I was forced to accept that this is what it would take. I tried alternative measures and I tried to let it go, but if I let it go, what message would I be sending myself?

Suddenly I feel eyes on me and remember he’s in the room. I look over to see him staring at me. No matter how messed up I am right now, I must appear strong and composed. I return my attention to him. I’m sorry. I was kind of in my own world there, how rude. I should share my thoughts with you.

Wh... What are you going to do? What are you going to do to me? His voice sounds like a scared little boy and he’s crying. Oddly, he is not as convincing or persistent in an actual life-or-death situation. In the past, when he was trying to persuade me to stay or to forgive him, it was full out water works and he did this thing where his lip literally quivered. He was smooth and had all the right answers and would always find a way to tell you them. He would have you feeling sorry for him and ashamed and doubting yourself by the end.

"What am I going to do? We have already discussed that. I am probably going to go to prison for a while, write a book, study and all that, remember? The question you should be asking yourself is what are you going to do? Although, it is a pointless question, considering you have no options. Anyway, enough sitting around and talking," I get up and grab the gun.

"You used to make crazy threats about what you would do if someone hurt me, and then you made equally disturbing threats against me. What would you do to someone if they lied to you and played head games? What would you do to someone who completely drove you crazy; making you paranoid and making you doubt your own perception and causing you to be unsure of what to believe, shocking you by their cruelty and coldness? What would you do if you were violated, abused, degraded and insulted beyond belief? Broken bones, surgery and permanent damage in the name of jealousy without reason, and it was treated like a joke? I do not wait for him to answer. After realizing that it would be up to me to ensure you were held accountable and fully understood that what you did was wrong, I started to think. I put a lot of time and effort into devising the appropriate punishment."

At first, I was going to kill you. You cannot keep going through life like this Craig. You’ve gone through life this way for so long and it seems you’ll never change, unless you’re forced to. It is imperative you are stopped before you do more harm. I thought about it for a long time, and although I feel it is justifiable and I am desperate, I really think it would be too disturbing for me. I mean, this is going to be disturbing enough. I don’t think I need to kill you to make my point- as long as you cooperate.

I load the bullets in the gun, and I untie him from the banister. His arms and legs are still tied, but he can fully stand. I instruct him to turn around. He still thinks he can get out of this and begs and pleads. There is no point. "Like I said, if you cooperate, you’ll live. It is too late to beg and plead; you’re pleading and apologizing for the wrong reasons anyway. Just remember, you messed with the wrong girl. No, remember, it’s wrong to mess with anyone. You are not going to walk out of here Craig. I am here for a reason, and you know that when I decide to do something, I do it. Now, turn around and I won’t kill you."

Knowing he has no other choice he complies and slowly turns around so that his back is to me. You... you said I wasn’t walking out of here though. You’re going to kill me. I know you’re going to kill me. He is desperate and it’s hard to understand his rambling. Calmly, I assure him, You’re not going to walk out of here, but I’m not going to kill you. Rapidly losing his composure he yells, What? What does that mean? That doesn’t make sense…you’re going to kill me! I know you’re going to kill me!

Hey… genius, I interrupt him with obvious sarcasm, Think about it. I’m not going to kill you, but you won’t walk out of here. Think about it and figure it out. He is still confused, and even though his back is still to me, I can picture that pathetic, puzzled look on his face. After rambling and thinking out loud for a while, he thinks he has figured it out and even seems pleased with himself. I know, he says confidently, You’re going to shoot me. You won’t kill me, but you are going to shoot me, and I’m going to be injured so I won’t be able to ‘walk’ out of here. Then, after a brief pause... Oh my God! He turns to face me and looks disturbed and shocked. "You’re going to shoot me there!? You’re one of those crazy bitches. Oh my God..." gesturing between his legs he sobs.

He is really panicking now, but I can ease his nerves a little. "Don’t flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with that. Get this into your thick, oversized skull; this is for victimizing me, violating me, humiliating me, degrading me, this is for fucking with me. You and the others had this coming. It is because of each of you that I will never be the same. I was basically still a kid. You damaged me and ruined me. You created a fucking monster, and I am sorry if you don’t like the new me, but I don’t like the old me. I was so naïve and meek and sweet and nice and giving and look where that got me. This is happening to you because it was only a matter of time before you fucked with the wrong person. I’m even surprised that I’m the one who is putting you all in your place. Since you have gone so long without being held accountable, and you’ve gotten away with so much, I, as the one who is putting you in your place, must resort to extreme measures. You know, to make up for lost time. Now, turn around. There really isn’t any point talking to you and I have to remember that. So, how about a permanent, symbolic reminder to get through to you?

Again, he slowly turns around, helpless and powerless, as I once was. I am feared and in control, like he once was. He almost killed me many times. Now I would almost kill him. It’s like an out-of-body experience now. All I see is my tiny, shaky hand extended, pointing the big heavy gun at his back. I hear myself talking, but it does not sound like me. My voice sounds cold and emotionless. My tone is neutral, almost robotic. I speak just loud enough for him to hear. You know, there is this thing, called the neural foramen in the back. Its right where the nerve roots exit the spine. The nerve roots pass through it to reach the rest of your body and without it, nerve signals couldn’t travel to and from the brain to the rest of your body. Without nerve signals, your body would not be able to function. It is just fascinating, really. If a bullet hits your spinal cord it will shatter, causing all the nerves to be severed and making a person paralyzed. You will be in a wheelchair, and you will never be able to look down on anyone again. You won’t be able to bully, intimidate or attack anyone else, you see where I’m going with this? I close my eyes and make my last plea to Creator. Forgive me." I shoot him in the spine, twice.

Monsters

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I’m a monster.

I’ve inflicted pain on the ones who hurt me without shame.

I acted on my rage and joined their game.

I was like a beaten, turned vicious little dog, just waiting for someone to let me out of the cage.

I’m a monster. I was overwhelmed by horrible thoughts,

Viewing violent visuals and planning poisonous plots.

I fear the monster I’ve become, and I resent where my monstrous rage came from

But I did not become this monster over night; it was a transformation…

A slow painful transformation that I tried to fight.

Then, I looked around to see more monsters all around me and I observed the lives they lead.

Then, when I looked at my life, becoming a monster began to seem appealing.

Monsters are lucky. They have no feelings.

PART 2

Life as Larva: The Caterpillar

What leads a good person to commit an evil act?

Well… how much can a person take before they finally snap?

With no other options left,

What did they all expect?

Maternal Roots

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My Amazing Mom

My brother and I are the outcome of a prayer. A young woman was born into intergenerational trauma, poverty and addiction. She left home at fifteen, married at seventeen when she was still underage to an older man who promised her life would be so good. However, to her dismay she was told by a doctor she could never have children due to the abuse she endured at such a young age. This devastated her. She could not fathom how her brother, a known child molester could have six children, all of which he brutally abused, and she could not even have one, who she would vow to cherish. Now a young woman in a phychologically, verbally and financially abusive marriage with a sexually deviant narcissist, the woman was losing hope, and so she turned to prayer. She never sold her soul to the devil, she instead pleaded with all her soul to God. While speaking to God she pleaded her dream of having children, ideally two, a boy and a girl. However, she also stated that she would love and cherish any child she was given, and if the child was born with any health issues, she would still be grateful and devote herself to her child or children full heartedly. She prayed on the situation with all her heart and soul and