Chapter 11: Inspiration
"Junie you have another letter from Monica." Bob dropped the envelope on the table.
Dear Junie,
I am sorry if I frightened you. I don't know if I could ever really kill myself, but to be honest I was having those thoughts and they were frightening me. For some reason you were the only person I felt like I could say those words to. I was not brave enough to say them to someone who I really cared about. I felt so bad for even thinking those thoughts after what everyone has done to help me.
I guess I was asking someone to do something, anything. And now my mother has taken away my pills and gives me them one at a time with a horrible betrayed look on her face.
At least now I am at the hospital and my surgery is behind me. They kept me sedated a lot longer and I did not have any of those recurring memories. The pain medicine is pretty strong so I am sleeping most of the time. The only hard part now is when they check me for healing and infection.
It is a lot like getting a pelvic once a day, but it hurts. I have a lot of trouble staying still; I get these waves of panic. One time they tried restraining me to the table and I got totally hysterical, I could not stop screaming. They had to give me a shot. Well, they will be discharging me soon and then I will be back at home at Mom's. After that, it is hard to think about, but the gynecologist says I have to use this thing, he calls it a 'dilator' but it looks just like a... well I will let you use your imagination. It's to keep the scar tissue from shrinking up and growing together. He says if I don't, I might have to have surgery again.
They say I will be able to conceive without any trouble and carry a baby to term, but I will have to have a cesarean delivery; there is no way that the scar tissue will stretch enough for a normal delivery.
So they put me in charge of my own torture. Every time I think about putting anything up there all I can see in my mind is that knife, the same one that you found in your car. Yes, Agent Durant told me that's where you found it.
I talk with Agent Durant nearly every day now. He is the only person my mom will let me call without cross examining me to see who it was. She knows I am writing to you, but I keep your letters with me so she won't sneak and read them. She, all the time, is trying to find out more about you. I just tell her that you were another victim and writing you makes me feel better. Agent Durant, he told me to call him David, told her that you were a good person and that she should just back off. He told her that if she refused to give me the letters that it is a federal crime to tamper with the mail. He told me later that he was exaggerating that because it is addressed to her home, but anyway she believed him and is giving me the letters so far.
Like I said, I call David and I do have your number too. I will to call you or David if I get to feeling too frightened or sad. I promised David that I would do this.
Probably by the time you get this letter I will be back home. I guess I need to start thinking about getting a job, something temporary. Once the trial starts, I don't think I will have the time or the heart to work. My mom has a friend who has a new baby and they need a babysitter. I could do that. I babysat a lot when I was in high school.
Maybe being around a baby will make me feel better, maybe help me remember that happiness you mentioned.
Thank you for being my friend, Monica
Junie smiled, Agent Durant's name was David. Somehow she was really starting to get a soft spot on her heart for that man, despite his ways or perhaps because of them. Underneath that stony exterior there pumped a human heart after all.
As Junie laid down the letter on the table, she commented, "Well it's not quite as heartbreaking as the last one, not quite. There seems to be a tiny sliver of hope in this one." Junie's mouth curled up, "Agent Durant's first name is David. He tells her to call him David." She looked at Donna, "Ma'am, if it is all right with you, I want to see if Monica wants to exchange emails with me. Her mom has been questioning her about the letters she is getting from me. And that way I can send her some pictures of the puppies too. I would show you all of them."
Donna picked up the letter and shrugged, "Emails are okay. Just forward a copy to me and I will get around to reading them."
Dear Monica,
My Master and Mistress have four beautiful golden retrievers and they have a litter of puppies nearly every summer. I love dogs and I am totally crazy about puppies.
The most exciting thing happened a few days ago. One of our momma dogs had puppies, ten beautiful babies, five males and five females, a perfect family. Though my Mistress Donna says it is more like nine and a half because the last puppy is so much smaller than the others. Other people would call her a runt, but I could never use such an ugly word for such a precious little miracle. She was last to be born and when she came out she did not start breathing on her own. I had to help her by giving her artificial respiration. I was totally terrified she might die, but it turned out okay.
I feel especially close to that littlest one. We call her Happy. I make sure that her bigger brothers and sisters don't push her around too much. My Master says that I should be careful to not fall too much in love, that they will all be going to their new homes in just a few weeks.
Things have been really busy here. I am all the time hanging out with the puppies too long and then I have to rush to get my chores done. I haven't been working on any of my sewing projects at all.
When Sam Card broke into my apartment he tore all my clothes to shreds, along with destroying nearly everything else, thank god he didn't find my sewing machine. I am pretty short, only 5'1" and I have big breasts and hips so it is impossible to find clothes that fit off the rack. I have to sew myself a whole new wardrobe. I have most of it done, but now my Mistress wants me to make a corset. And when I am done with mine she wants me to make one for her. I have chosen yellow brocade for mine and I found the prettiest emerald green for hers. She has green flecks in her eyes and when she wears green they seem to glow.
I am glad your surgeries are finally all over. I am glad that they thought to keep you asleep a lot longer so you wouldn't be so disoriented when you woke up. That dilator thing sounds so clinical and creepy. If it hurts, you should ask for some anesthetic cream or something. You should never have to feel pain down there again.
Maybe I am being way too familiar and if my saying these things makes you feel uncomfortable tell me and I won't do it any more... but I personally would feel a lot more comfortable using something like that dilator if I stopped thinking about it like a medical thing and started thinking of it as a dildo. It would only be torture if you decide to make it feel that way. Try to think about it positively.
Try to relax. Take a bubble bath and light some candles. Listen to some music that you like. Focus your mind on things that make you feel safe and happy. Make this a thing you look forward to, a reward, something good that you deserve, not something you dread.
I guess my point is that you don't need to hate touching yourself. Don't let him take that away from you. Our bodies are a gift to us, and I worry you are starting to fear yours.
Dearest Monica, you are getting better. It's not always easy to see when you have hard days, but I can see in your letters that there are things you still love and enjoy. Seek those out and hold onto them. Remember I am your friend and that I care about you. And David cares a lot about you too. I am sure your mother cares in her own way. I can't help but believe you have survived for a reason.
Hold onto those thoughts and remember that you deserve happiness.
Junie
