"There's a certain dark irony to it," she says after several long minutes of quiet. Her toes dabble at the water's edge as she gathers herself to continue,
"Like... the nurse said to me 'I am furious on your behalf, for how you were treated' after I told her about that, and she could not connect that precisely the same thing was happening right there then by her very hand. Her voice was shaking! And I had to sit there, using all of the absolutely critical survival skills I learned back then to be as still as I could and generally agreeable because anything less and, well..."
The United States Attorney’s Office for the District of Maryland and the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division announced today a set
The investigation, opened in October 2020, revealed thousands of incidents of seclusion and restraint in just two and a half school years. Although students with disabilities make up only 10.8% of students enrolled in the district, every single student the district secluded was a student with disabilities, as were 99%—all but one—of the students the district restrained. The district routinely resorted to seclusion and restraint in non-emergency situations instead of using appropriate individualized behavior interventions tailored to individual students’ needs. The investigation found that these practices often intensified students’ distress, with some students engaging in self-harm and showing other signs of trauma while in seclusion.
Lost Voice | Duct Tape | “You better start talking.”
This is a dark one!!!
Cw// needles, described gore, interrogation, retraumatization, psychological torture, nail damage, corrupt institution, sadistic whumper, hurt/no comfort (if I missed anything let me know!)
Mars couldn’t breathe. Not from asphyxiation but fear. They knew the glimmer of a certain metal when they saw it. They began to struggle, aching limbs pulling uselessly against their restraints. Their torturer chuckled, a firm hand closing around their upper arm. They found themself screaming, even though the needle hadn’t touched, hadn’t even came close to their skin. Tears fell freely from their eyes as they tried to hold back sobs, failing miserably.
“Scared of this little thing?” The needle was brought closer, causing them to flinch away. They could feel the tip pressed against their cheek now. If they spoke, they’d get stuck. If they opened their eyes, they would surely be stuck. “How cute.” Like the first time, the needle was pulled away, leaving them shaking, mind racing to collect their thoughts and prepare them for the inevitable. “Remember what I told you about fear, Mars?” They did, very well, in fact. The words were burned into their mind, that day, that moment playing on loop in their dreams. They could feel themself fading. They were no longer in control.
“Fuck…” someone was mumbling, their scratched, pathetic voice drowned out by the frantic pounding of blood in their ears. “Fuck you.” The words were slow and quiet, trickling from their lips like a leaking faucet. “Motherfucker.” They had been waiting to say that for months. All celebratory feelings disappeared in an instant as they felt the tip of the needle on their shoulder. Suddenly they was too weak to struggle. They were too weak to protest. Their eyes burned, and they realized their eyes were wide open, staring at the light above them. They were too weak to close them, so they let them stay.
“Vulgar.” Mars could feel a distant hand brush their shoulder, clearing it of any strands of hair. “Well, if you’re done,” at this time they would have begun to plead. As the needle was pushed down, down, until it reached its tip. Did it ever reach that deep? They couldn’t remember the exact details, but the feeling was surely the same. Fear. Pain. Fear. Pain. Overwhelming fear. Their torturer’s words echoed in their mind, stabbing at their brain as the needle sank down, down, blinding pain spiking as it was jerked to the side. Not a breath escaped as the needle was pushed deeper.
In all honesty, they were afraid to move. If they moved, that would make it real. It would affirm that they had been captured again, tortured again, and the torture would continue until they gave away the information they knew, this time consciously, they had. There was no escape for them. Criminals like them were shown no mercy. They would spill the coordinates or die.
Actually, that was a lie. They would be tortured until they revealed their life story, then, they would be executed. Electrocution. Poison. Another… horrifying, painful method of clearing cell space. Or their identity would be wiped from them, all trace of who they once were erased from any database. They would disappear.
Their mouth opened, forming the shape of the first digit of the coordinates. They tried to speak but no sound came out. They were stuck, paralyzed as the interrogator began the slow process of pressing needle after needle into their arms. The only thing that passed over their lips was a whimper, so pathetic in nature it made them sick to their stomach. Each needle they thought was their last and each needle that followed proved them wrong.
...
If their torturer wanted information, Mars wouldn’t be the one to provide it. At this point they he had forgotten what they had wanted. They had forgotten what they were supposed to say. The code, the coordinates, they were numbers scrambled in their head, numbers they couldn’t piece together if they tried.
At least they had a greater control over their mind. Or did they? Each time they thought about their past torture they scoffed nervously. They had endured worse, but as their torture dragged on, they slowly began to rethink that. Had they really? Were they as strong as their mental perception of themself?
As soon as the first needle pierced their flesh, their mind went blank. Pain replaced rational thought. Their fingernails were surely bleeding from how they had snapped, bent, tore as they clawed at the table. Their muscles must be beyond repair, their thrashing contributing to the damage, shifting the metal embedded in their upper arms and thighs.
Just the thought of being unable to move, unable to defend themself, unable to resist, made them sick to the stomach. As their mind continued to spiral, they could feel their defenses begin to fall. What little solace they could find in their head was fading, their consciousness being yanked back into the harsh light of the present. They dragged a weak, shaking breath, letting their eyes flutter shut.
After what felt like hours, after their tears had long dried, the needles were removed, their arms, shoulders, and thighs bandaged. Mars’ throat was dryer than they thought, reality setting in as they were lifted from the table. A scream tore through through throat as their body was manhandled onto a gurney, limbs immediately strapped down.
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It was a feeling they could never get used to, like the headaches and occasional pangs in their arms, reminding them of what they were. What had happened to them. What was happening to them again. They never imagined they would be back in the same place as they were all those months ago yet here they were. The only change was that they didn’t have Caretaker to keep them company. The sobs began again as they were carted away to the medbay, a place where another form of torture awaited them. They knew for a fact that rebellion was long gone. They didn’t have allies anymore.
Taglist: @thelocalnemesis @deckofaces @laffy-taffy-creations @whumptober-archive @jewels-writes (ask to be added!)
A Call for More By: Cassi Cox Friends…Can we talk? Maybe it’s just me, but I am going to venture a guess that it’s not. Watching the Josh Duggar saga continue to evolve over the last ye…
Abby Johnson, who runs And Then There Were None and is a well known Pro-Life speaker bringing in millions of dollars for pro-life causes recently publicly attacked a rape survivor. She accused her of fabricating her entire story, stated she had evidence and then failed to produce any evidence. She has made all sorts of demands on the survivor that violate her confidentiality and safety, participated in gossip and slander and allowed videos of psychological breakdowns and attacks on the survivors minor children to thrive on her social media while deleting all comments supporting the survivor and correcting Abby’s misinformation. I wrote about this in my previous piece, My Love Louder Journey. She is still actively threatening to share nude photos of the rape survivor’s body after her partial mastectomy publicly. Abby has expressed concern about her sons being falsely accused of rape and referenced that part of the problem is that “women aren’t acting respectable.” Abby has a history of making racially charged comments, including “Ok K-pop,” stating that police should racially profile her son because he is black and called a black minister a “thug,” a stain on the black community as well as the name “Tyrone” (that is not his name) after getting into an online altercation with him regarding abortion. Her own testimony may or may not be stolen (see the book Redeemed by Grace by Ramona Travino) and her fame-making story begins as a disgruntled employee that may or may not be seeking revenge. In all of this, Abby ends her abuse by stating that she is going to pray for the people that she is abusing.
The pro-life community has continued to look the other way as she has engaged in these behaviors. Even recently, when the rape survivor she attacked was one of their own, the movement made excuses for Abby, justified her behavior and hid behind the “the accusations must be true if Abby is saying it,” approach. Many pro-life platforms removed all content created by the survivor without discussing it with her and those who have not loudly supported Abby in the midst of all of it continue to platform her, have not removed her content and have openly expressed anxiety regarding no longer working with her. Why? Money and the Movement.
The system, the movement, the cause… all more valuable than the survivors and those who are vulnerable.
You have to tell yourself there's something you could have done. You have to say it's your fault. Because if it was out of your control, then you're just as helpless as you were. Always have been, always will be.
So I’m putting the actual ask under a read more just in case, ‘cause this might trigger someone. it’s also a literal thesis because I got carried away writting lol
tw for: physical abuse, poor coping mechanisms, craving abuse. please do not read if any of this topics are triggering to you.
The ask: (tw: abuse)i know lots of ppl will hate me for this, but sometimes i rly wish i could find myself back in a new abusive environment; moving away n living alone has left me v isolated (which i dont mind) but being hit is more or less the only kind of touch im used to and now i really miss that contact.
So here’s the catch. You were exposed to abuse, and abuse might be the only type of human interaction that you know. You even said so yourself. You can’t crave regular human touch because when did you ever get that? How does that even feel? You have no clue. So your brain, who has a need, is reverting back to the only type of contact that it’s familiar with, and that is physical abuse. That doesn’t mean that you want to be abused, it just means your brain doesn’t KNOW how else to indicate that it wants contact, because it doesn’t KNOW any other type of contact. I promise you that if you had a positive, uplifting caring connection with another person, abuse would not be what you would crave when you want contact.
And craving abuse usually means either 1) your brain doesn’t know what else to ask for OR 2) your brain is not dealing with your trauma very well and retraumatization is one way that it’s trying to deal with it (which may cause you to want to engage in abusive situations again). Neither case happens simply because you just want abuse. There’s a reason, there’s a way to deal with it. There’s no reason for anyone to hate you ‘cause it’s a known effect of abuse to seek retraumatization. This isn’t happening just ‘cause you somehow decided abuse is great.
So what I would like to encourage you to do is to try (as best as you can, as best as possible) to provide yourself with other alternatives for the things you need (which in this case is human contact, very understandable specially in this times). I know it is not easy to just go out and find good people, and honestly I’m still trying to figure out how to do that, but trust me, from someone who has gone back to abusive relationships or who has accepted piss poor treatment for the exact reason you are describing, you do not want to be back into abuse. You want something else entirely, and I hope you can find a way to provide that for yourself so next time you feel lonely, your brain can go “you know what, I would like some more of that nice experience, because that’s actually much better than being hit”.
Right now, your brain is touch starved (I’m assuming, which is why it’s feeling the particular urge to get touched/human contact again). This means that, because this is what your brain is having a problem with NOW it will tend to consider THIS problem the biggest most urgent one. You were abused in the PAST, so it’s no longer a pressing matter and therefore, your brain thinks being isolated/touch starved is obviously the most pressing problem.
As someone who has had this exact same train of thought, your brain is wrong, as was mine. The reason why you have the chance to think about how you want human contact is BECAUSE you don’t have other types of ABUSE to deal with right now. If you were back in an abusive situation, being isolated STOPS being a problem and now “how do I SURVIVE this” becomes the new problem. It’s a logic flaw in our abused brain. It’s understandable, but it’s not true, and this can lead to retraumatization which is why I’m taking the time to say this. You may know this logically but your brain doesn’t know it emotionally.
Basically your brain thinks it wants to be back into an abusive situation, because being FAR from an abusive situation has made it lose perspective. I need you to use your will power to resist engaging in this urge. And even if you were not considering engaging on it, try to change your thoughts to remember how bad it was when you were being abused and that OTHER types of problems would come from being in an abusive situation. It’s not a worthy trade.
This is an abused brain™ regular, business as usual train of thought. It forgets that there are other types of touch out there, and much more importantly, that YOU, yes YOU are deserving of those better types of touch. YOU deserve to be treated with care and with tenderness, because you are a human being and that’s your birth right.
So to wrap this literal novel up lmao try to be kind to yourself for craving this things because it’s understandable, not a healthy coping tactic, but understandable, and try to provide yourself with care when you feel this urges. Try to give yourself a hug. Try to caress your own arms/back. Be gentle and caring to yourself, because that’s what your brain actually needs, and it may not feel like a lot, but it’s actually something, and it’ll soothe you a bit.
and yeah I’ve spoke too much as always, but I just felt compelled lol
