The Remembered Self: A Journey into the Heart of the Beast

By M.J. Payne

Based on a true story that begins in rural Northern California, a small girl grapples with a psychopathic father who abuses her himself and traffics her to a pedophile ring centered in a mansion riddled with secret rooms. The father participates in punishment rituals at nonpaying clients and lives on the funds generated from this and trafficking his daughter. The child’s mother works at night and is unaware of what horrors are befalling her daughter but knows her husband is dangerous. The mother and daughter flee from the father, chased by him and by a huge truck. As the girl matures into adulthood, she is overcome with ghastly buried memories, as they emerge scene by scene, and she fights for her life while being pursued by demonic creatures in her dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635685220

Book preview

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THE REMEMBERED SELF

A Journey into the Heart of the Beast

Based on a True Story

M. J. Payne

Copyright © 2017 M.J. Payne

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-63568-521-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63568-522-0 (Digital)

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this book are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Introduction

My sleep was filled with nightmares that I forgot in the morning. The dream world was a caged animal. The imprisoned beast rattled the locks and gnawed relentlessly through to my day world. A torrent of ghastly, sadistic, twisted memories flooded my mind like puzzle pieces a madman had cut up to make it harder to discover who I really was.

Book One

1

I looked at the mass of lilies and cyclamens in the greenhouse. Remembrance flooded me. I saw a scene that happened many years before. It was a turning point. As I remembered, my mind went into the soul of the child I had been, and I began to think as she did and feel her feelings. She was my remembered self, as much a stranger as an unknown person walking down the street.

A drink, Jack? Too early? asked Chinky.

Never too early, said Jack.

I’ll pour you one. I prefer my pipe. So you want to see my little Cherry Blossom?

Yes.

Chinky went into the back of the bar and returned with an Asian girl who moved like a breath of air. He circled his finger under her eyes.

She twirled, and her silken hair slapped against her bottom as she faced Jack. She raised her head when Chinky put his finger under her chin, and Jack looked down at a porcelain doll. She glanced briefly into Jack’s eyes. Her eyebrows arched like the wings of a bird, and her voluptuous mouth was painted red.

Go! said Chinky as he pointed at the door. She swirled and glided away.

Whew! said Jack as he watched her hair swish to the side under the ceiling fan and saw mandarin silk snug across her round bottom. The dress was cut in a deep V in the back so he could see the cleft in her rear.

You like, you pay.

I watched the pretty lady walk away, and Chinky sat down at the bar next to me. I played with colorful sticks and gently kicked the barstool with my little feet then glanced up at him and fluffed my blond hair.

Her eyes are gold like gemstones.

Yes, and sometimes green. Hazel eyes change color a lot, said my father.

I mostly see black and dark brown eyes here, Chinky replied.

I did not like the smell of his pipe and looked away. He moved to the end of the bar to talk to Daddy.

There is a German who drools over blondes like this. His clientele care nothing for exotic girls for anything but throwaways. He tries to indoctrinate the Nordic types into his cult. You have met him here several times, Herr Heising?

I remember him.

Chinky wrote down a number and passed it to Jack.

Take this blond child to him, and maybe you can have your Cherry Blossom. She has not been touched yet, only groomed by the women. I doubt if she is fifteen. But you have to pay your tab first.

* * *

I remembered how I stared at the big car that was parked in front of the fig tree in front of our house. I rubbed my eyes and walked up closer and looked in the window. The upholstery was silver with lighter threads that shimmered through it, and the car was very clean. I didn’t know that my suffering would pay for it, and it would carry me and my mother to freedom. I sat on the porch and wondered where the silver beast came from.

* * *

I got out of the silver Cadillac, and Daddy took me by the hand to walk toward a mansion with a brilliant green lawn that looked like it had been manicured with a ruler. A polished black limousine squatted in the circular driveway; its grill grinned like it knew the nasty secrets of the house of perfection built on human misery. The portion of driveway that crossed the path to the door was covered overhead to shield guests. We approached a door with gold hinges, handle, and knocker, and Daddy tapped lightly. The door was opened by a sad butler who looked as though he had seen a grisly accident. He ushered us without haste through the entryway. I saw an open door that lead to a library or office to my left.

A massive staircase loomed in front of the mansion’s entrance. Its steps were covered in oriental designs of ruby and mandarin. The floor beneath me was covered with the beautiful rug. The wood under the rug showed on the sides of the room and was dark and shiny. I looked up the staircase again at the wide banister.

It looked wide enough to slide down. I would like to do that.

We walked into an open living room that was paneled halfway up with dark wood and painted white up to and including the high ceiling. Bouquets of lilies in white vases perched on four tables in different areas. Delicate couches and chairs covered in heavy white silk with the grain of the material running front to back made seating areas for conversation. The white marble table in the middle of the grouping was decorated with pots of cyclamen that looked like swarms of white butterflies resting on thick stalks. Gold velvet curtains covered most of the high wall on each side of the large window. An unfenced wooded area that stretched far into the distance could be seen.

A very old man approached.

Hello, Jack, he said with a German accent. And this must be your daughter. He handed me a piece of chocolate shaped like a heart and looked at me as I bit into the candy. "Lovely. Look how that blond hair shines, and what creamy, dreamy skin. Everything in proportion. Her mother must be very beautiful. You say you have another daughter too?’’

Different mother. You wouldn’t be interested.

Ah. Homely. Too bad. So this child is half German. Daddy nodded. The old man looked down into my eyes. She goes well with the room, doesn’t she?

The butler brought a tray of glasses and a cut glass decanter. Each glass was half full of whiskey. Daddy took one glass and the old man the other. They clinked glasses and made a deal about me and a price, while I finished my chocolate. The butler gently wiped my face and hands clean, his eyes full of remote pain. I smiled at him.

Let’s take pictures, said the old man.

Daddy and I followed him to the bookcase, where he stepped on a piece of wood close to the wall. The wall slowly opened, and there were cameras set on tripods, blankets on the floor, and frilly little dresses hanging from a rod. The room behind the staircase was an example of how the mansion was riddled with hidden rooms, staircases, secret places in the attic, basement, and areas far out in the woods, where horrible activities took place.

Would you like to put on some of these pretty things?

I looked at the lovely clothes and longed to put them on since I had so few at home and nodded.

"Let’s try on this gold velvet one first, shall we?’’

I nodded.

A woman in a plain dress came in and helped me change. The men sat in chairs and watched. My gold eyes, the velvet dress, and glowing hair made the old man smile. Portrait pictures were taken, and then I changed into the other dresses. I was photographed laughing, pouting, and jumping, with peek-a-boo play following.

Let’s see your underwear, he suggested.

I giggled and raised the dress enough that my white panties showed. The lady in the plain dress had a syringe behind her back. She patted me and moved her hand lower till she had her hand on my hip.

Would you like to keep all these dresses?

Oh, yes!

Then let’s play a game. You turn your face to the wall and sing a song and eat these chocolates and be really still and don’t turn around until I say so, OK?

He opened his hand, and it was full of my favorite chocolates, with creamy centers and chocolate sprinkles. I smelled the chocolate, and my mouth watered. I grabbed them out of his hand and turned to the wall and sang and chewed the luscious cream-filled ones, while the woman expertly injected the contents of the syringe into my hip. Just as I turned and looked at the woman, the deed was finished. That stung!

Oh, it was nothing for a strong little girl like you. Now all these pretty dresses are yours.

OK.

They waited for the drug to take effect, and I was undressed and put onto a gold blanket. More pictures were taken, but these were different. I was placed in many poses that exposed my nude body fully. Finally I was dressed in my own clothes, and Daddy carried me and an armful of fancy dresses to the Cadillac and put me in the backseat to sleep. He got into the driver’s seat and pulled a big wad of cash out of his pocket and counted it. He smiled.

He dressed me in my jammies and put me to bed. He put the dresses in a box in the attic. In the morning, I asked about them. He asked me what dresses I meant.

The dresses I got at the big house.

You must have been dreaming, you have been asleep. You fell asleep in the car.

They were so pretty, I cried.

I’ll see if I can buy you some new dresses, and it will make up for the dream. Would you like that?

Oh, yes.

Tell me what kind you want, and I’ll go and get them.

I want pretty dresses back! You see them too.

Later he got the dresses down from the attic and gave them to me. I learned of the things that happened while I was drugged from an old film I found hidden in his closet.

* * *

What age? Male or female? asked Herr Heising, who was meeting with a potential client at the mansion.

I think between three and five years old, and female, replied the client.

Heising opened the flat panel at the side of the room by stepping on a hidden button. There was a long shelf full of shiny albums filled with pictures. He pulled out and opened a pretty blue book.

This is my current favorite in that she is chosen often. I greatly prefer blondes, but this one is often chosen. In her eyes, you see the dawning of great pain, and that is often more interesting than hair color.

Very nice, mused the client. And what can be done to her and for how long?

She is still good for perhaps another year or two, and then she goes to the more brutal pleasures, and if she survives, to the cult. As for now, you may touch wherever, and light slapping is allowed. No marks are to be left. You may explore orally freely. You will be watched. You must follow the rules, or you will be punished. Do not override because of your desire, because I can enforce the rules.

Is the brunette passive? I want one who is already trained.

Yes. She does not resist any longer.

The client looked through the rest of the album and returned to the brunette child. When is she available?

During the day, when her parents work. The babysitter brings her here as part of her park outing. Her parents are careless and leave her with the babysitter many hours.

The men made a date for the client to do all that was allowed and for how long.

Money was exchanged in advance, and Herr Heising put his money into the vault after the client left and had been warned not to exceed the limits of his purchase.

* * *

I had viewed many of these transactions when I was older, and this one came back to me. As I daydreamed more, the child I had been and her voice and feelings rose up in my mind strongly.

* * *

Daddy take me back to big house. He take me by hand, and we go to door, and I see butler. We go downstairs to room of smoke. He undress me and lead me to table where men play cards. Room is big and look like fog when Mommy drive to work. Fog stink. Daddy pick me up and put on big table of cards played. He say, Sit down.

I tired. I see girl on coffee table lie on back in middle of searchlight. My eyes hurt. Shadow men sit in circle. Smell leather chairs. Men blow out smoke from mouth. Drink gold water and play cards. Some sniff table like dog and breathe white line. Line go away into nose. Man hold up card with A on it. My eyes jump into A and watch from there. Man smile and pull girl to him. He turn on stomach. Her back hurt from hard surface. Now she have to pee. Man has won something, and he do strange things to girl. Smoke smell like living thing. Girl scream while man puts smoke maker inside her low hole, and men laugh like animal roar and smoke come out of hole. He pull out smoke pole and turn girl over. She lay, stare at light, not blink. Gold hair frame smooth face. I go further into A and am gone. I wake and in new place. I on red rubber sheet with other girl.

Man in robe say, Rassel around on sheet. He put something up into low hole in me and in other girl. He throw oil on us and yell. I know rassel mean grab and fight. Girl grab me, and we slip around on oil sheet. Tummies feel bad and cramp and hurt. We hold tummies. He yell, Rassel!

I far away and watch. It is gaming area of mansion, and men play, watching small girls behind glass. Lights burn eyes. Water runs down face. Somebody cry. I hear sobbing in ears like roar of waterfall. Belly pumps like machine Grandma use to start fireplace. Waterfall brown and stink. Smears streak on bodies brown thick and smell make me go very far away. I am button on sleeve of black shirt I see. Button watch with my eyes. Girls roll around in brown mess coming out of lower wound. Roll around selves. Vomit on girls. Man in black robe raise arms and button, where my eyes watch, rise higher. I look down on girls rolling on rubber sheet and scream. Mouth in button now too. Foul taste in someone’s mouth. Cannot breathe even in button. I choke, and all go black.

Someone pull my arm, wear glove and hold nose. I go to room and put in shower and washed. I dried and dressed. I go upstairs to room of lilies and white couch, and man shake hands with Daddy and big money in handshake. Daddy put in pocket, and we go to big Cadillac he tell Mommy he get at the state sale for good price. Someone die and sell. I fall asleep on Daddy shoulder. Wake up and not know where I come from.

I sick, and Mommy say, Get in bed with Daddy. It late night. Mommy go for medicine, and I get in bed by Daddy. His hand clammy he try over and over to shove under my bottom, and I push rear against mattress, stop him from that. Then he rub sweaty hand across flat front of me under jammy top. Maybe he think I Mommy.

Mommy work at doctor office before she at hospital, and because I sick, she take me there next day. I not feel bad in morning, but she take me. Until we in the car, I ask over and over if Daddy coming with us. Do you want him to come?

No!

Well, this isn’t the kind of thing that Daddys usually do with little girls. It’s Mommy’s job.

I quiet beside her with hands twisted in knot like prayer.

I sit bare on table like blob all parts of me be look at. I sit with ugly self in front of Mommy and doctor. He look in ears and mouth and eyes and touch under ears. I feel cold circle on chest and back.

Now lie back flat on the table.

He press tummy all around and ask if hurt me. Then he say bring up legs like frog. Not more frog!

Oh, no, he going to look at wound. I have to open legs and let him see it. Why everyone in it? Why I have ugly wound between legs? Why it never heal? He peel open wound. It stuck together, but he peel open like piece of fruit. The office cool, and nasty part cold now. He look at wound with calm face. He not know there something wrong with me? Mommy not look afraid. She has normal face on. Oh, no, he look lower and put in glass stick. It is cold. My face red. I feel it heat up. Here come Mommy. Her cool hands on my face. She say it be over soon and stroke my face. He remove glass thing and look at it. He sit on a stool in front of wound and its lower self. He raise the lower part and pull apart lower wound and look at it.

She is kind of irritated down here. I’m going to check inside.

He look at my red face and at Mommy then back at me. I turn face away from him, angry tears burn face.

This will be uncomfortable, but it only lasts a minute. You’ll be OK.

Mommy icy hands help to me like when I have migraine. Now they cool my burning face.

No! Now he fool with lower wound. There is something wrong with it. His finger slide into sore wound. He move it around