I do not know who I am. The police and the FBI have been asking me all sorts of questions but the honest truth is ... I do not know. I have severe lapses in my memory and I also suffer from a phenomenon called false memories. My psychiatric evaluation says that I suffer from mild to moderate hallucinations that are the result of injecting large quantities of MX-51. My mind responds to all my hallucinations as events from my past. This causes a psychiatric condition in which a lot of what I remember never really happened.
If you were to visit my room, you will see that I have family pictures on the walls. I have an old picture of my mother holding me when I was three. Right next to us is my sister Kate who was five years old at that time. She is standing with her hands in her pockets and a stern expression conveying that she does not want to be the picture. Then there are other pictures of me during various stages of my life. There is one in which we are having a family dinner and it was taken while sitting around a dining table. I see an older more mature version of my mother and Kate is also grown up. Then there is a picture of me with my football team. I do not recognize anyone of those guys in there except one fellow on top of whom I wrote "Robert" with an arrow pointing down towards him. I know I wrote that when I remembered him as he does not exist in my memory anymore. The only thing that tells me that is he Robert is what I wrote with a shivering hand some time back when I could remember. It is only through these pictures that I know that my memories relating to the people on the wall are real as they existed in real life.
Then I have memories of people I am told do not exist. Madeline Blake, I am told by my therapist is only a figment of my imagination. Researchers and FBI detectives have gone through my emails, letters, and phone call records and found no trace of a Miss Blake. This hard for me to believe because she is one person who has had tremendous influence in my life. A lot of hate and vindictiveness that I carry inside me is due to Madeline Blake or "Miss Blake." Yet, through various therapy sessions that I have had with Dr. Jennifer Liu I was repeatedly told that Madeline Black is a false memory. In order to convince me that Madeline Blake was only in my mind, I was given a task. I was to write all things that I remembered about Madeline Blake.
Here is my journal entry dated August 7, 2015.
There was a bawdy house on Coleytown in Westport, New York where I used to go and fuck. It was not your low class bordello with hookers walking around. It was situated in a very high class area of outer New York and was run by a Madam by the name of Madeline Blake.
Madeline was a rich widow whom people expected to be much older than she appeared. Her blonde hair would always be backcombed and tied behind her head in a neat and tight bun and she would rarely be seen without glossy lipstick painted lips. Her ice blue eyes were beautiful but cold and distant and signified a lack of emotion that was intimidating. Every time she looked at you, it would seem like she was gazing at you from a mile even though she could be standing right next to you. Everything about Madeline from her high heel shoes to her expensive collection of purses exhuberated upper class arrogance.
The brothel that she ran was a highly exclusive, upper class whorehouse called Hillmore Suites. The only people who came to Hillmore were super rich clients. There were politicians, lawyers, doctors but mostly rich business elite and investment bankers. They would always be greeted at the main lobby by Madeline, the lady of the house. In a brief chit chat she would know exactly what kind of experience they were looking for. There was also a bar area with an indoor pool where cocktail parties would provide relaxed avenue for clients to meet girls. Once the pleasantries were over they were given a key to their suites where they would go and freshen up. Then the girl of their dream would knock on their door and a night of fun would begin.
There was not a single client who would not want to get in bed with Madeline. After all she was a tall woman with a very well maintained figure and extremely toned and shapely legs. She would speak with a deep husky voice that was almost masculine and totally out of synch with her feminine appearance. Yet she carried herself with a strictly feminine poise and had a way of gracefully brushing aside any advances that were made towards her. She had a fine selection of girls who would do the entertaining while Madeline would take care of the business. It would become obvious to the clients in their first meeting that Madeline Blake was not on the menu. Over time they began to respect her though I am sure that there was not a single one of them who would not be making love to her in his dirty mind. I was not rich nor was I famous and yet I would be at Hillmore suites almost once a month and sometimes twice. I used to work as a delivery guy for a man called Alfero Getino who was the biggest supplier of MX-51.
MX-51 was a narcotic that was believed to be a breakthrough in the world of recreational drugs. It was a narcotic without negative side effects or so it was believed at that time. Yet it was controversial because conservatives and religious minded people regarded MX-51 as "false happiness." One pill would cause 12 hours of intense happiness but if you wanted a truly elevating 36 hour experience, then it had to be injected into the blood. Slowly it began to create its following and the consumers of MX-51 gradually became an underground, secret religion. It included senators, congressmen, media moguls and above all rich business elite. It was no surprise that a lot of rich clients at Hillmore suites were also consumers of MX-51 and thus it turned out that one of the most upscale bordellos was also a secret distribution place for MX-51.
Orders were collected from all over the East coast via internet. They were placed directly with Alfero Getino and I would receive a call from him telling me to deliver "packages" to client locations in the New York area. One of the larger orders were always specified for Hillmore Suites. I would dress up in my finest of clothes and drive all the way up to the mansion. The security guards at Hillmore had seen me come and go and they knew why I was there. No questions were ever asked or ID was ever demanded. Instead I would be lead straight into the lobby where I would meet "Miss Blake." She would receive the packages and write me check. As a courtesy I would be shown a suite to spend the night in and could have my a girl for the night. It was an unspoken business agreement between Madeline and Alfero that his men will be looked after for the risk they were taking with the law.
I remember the day Alfero died. His death is well documented in the newspapers and internet so I know I am not hallucinating that part. It is how he died that exists in my memory quite differently than how it is stated in news websites and media records. They say he cut his wrists. They say he became addicted to the drug he was selling and began to consume large quantities. After a while no dosage could cause the happiness that he had experienced when he began his addiction. He kept on increasing the dose but MX-51 stopped working on him. Unlike other recreational drugs it caused him no physiological damage but its effects began to get weaker and weaker and finally he found himself a depressed man. The only source of happiness he had ever known was gone and he eventually cut his wrists in his multi-million dollar penthouse.
I remember things differently.
A few days before he died, I met him in his warehouse where he handed me a total of ten business style briefcases full of MX-51. Each briefcase contained almost twelve thousand dollars worth of merchandise. The total worth of all merchandise was 120,000 USD. This was to be delivered to twelve clients and I was to receive my own share of 12000 USD which was the 10% I always kept. The remaining money was to be transferred into an overseas business account as per standard operating procedure.
