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It's so nice to be insane
No one asks you to explain
Radio by your side, Angie Baby
Angie Baby, you're a special lady
Living in a world of make-believe
Well, maybe...
Well, maybe...
From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974
This series of stories is inspired from my own struggle with marginal Borderline Personality Disorder, but none of the persons, incidents, or depictions are real - in everyday reality or in my own personal realities. Each story stands on its own, but uses characters and references from other stories in the series. You might understand this story better if you have read "Of One Mind." and "I'm Baaack!"
The over-riding theme of the series is BDSM, so I am posting most of them there.  This one, however, needs to be in fantasy, so I am posting it here. It is a very "different" story that is not as much erotic as interesting, but is a part of the overall series.
The Technician
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I guess if you are going to have a catatonic episode, there is no better place to have it than in your psychiatrist's office. Especially if he doesn't really believe what happens.
Dr. Henderson had just said that he thought that we had been making a lot of good progress over the past several weeks when suddenly I was gone. He thought I was catatonic, but actually I was in an alley downtown. This sort of thing happened all the time with Kelly, but this time I wasn't Kelly.  I was someone else. I think her name was Rachel. I was Rachel and I was being raped and murdered.
I could vaguely remember that my car had stalled and I couldn't get it to restart. I was in a bad neighborhood, but knew that there was a bus stop just one block over. I cut through the alley thinking that the streets weren't any safer and it was the shortest distance to a safe spot, but no sooner had I entered the alley than hands had grabbed me from behind and dragged me into a side alley that couldn't be seen from the street. That's when things got bad... really bad.
I woke up in the hospital emergency room. Dr. Henderson was next to the bed talking to one of the ER doctors. I could hear him say, "I know it is procedure, but I tell you he wasn't attacked. I was there. The wounds and bruises just appeared as he sat there in a catatonic psychotic episode. They are called 'stigmata.'Â Â Put that in your report."
The ER Doctor replied, "Well, Officer Mendes is here anyway with a DOA homicide, so we will just have him step into the room for a moment."
A few moments later Detective Mendez came into the room. He knew me from numerous times before when I had been admitted to the ER with unexplained injuries. As he walked over to the bed I was sitting on he said derisively, "OK nutbag, what did you do to yourself this time?"
He started to ask something else, but as he came around the bed to where he could see my face, he suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "Holy Matre Dio Shit!!!" and ran out of the room.
I could hear him yelling down the hallway, "Frank, I want you up here now!" Then he and a CSI tech entered the room. He continued, "I want close ups of his face and details of every fucking square inch of his body, and I want them compared to the vic in room 10. And I want that done NOW!"
The tech started to say something, but then he looked up at me and exclaimed, "Jesus! That ain't possible!"
"Tell me about it," said Detective Mendez, shaking he head. Then he suddenly snapped his head around so he could look me directly in the face and said with slow anger, "Now, you tell me all about it, nutbag. I want every detail of everything you can remember or make up about what happened to you."
I wondered what had caused all the commotion, but as I lay back on my bed I got my answer. I caught a glance of my face in the mirror. On my forehead, directly between my eyes, was the backward imprint of a signet ring. A large, ornate R had been embedded into my forehead and was starting to fill in with a dark purple as my skin began to bruise.
"That must have been when Rocco hit me, " I said.
"Tell me what you know." replied Mendez. His voice was strange, almost tired-like. The anger was gone. "I don't know how you know it, but tell me everything."
"OK," I replied. "I was at my psychiatrist's office when suddenly I was in an alley downtown. I was trying to cut across to a bus stop., but somebody grabbed me from behind."
"What do you mean, 'You were in an alley'?" he interrupted.
"It was like when I become Kelly," I replied. "Only this time it wasn't Kelly."