guess whos been reading about this stuff again

… It all starts with the initiation. The seemingly warm hands that reach out when a victim has no one. The victim leans in, because they hurt. They need someone. Then comes the isolation. Slowly, they convince you that they’re all you need. They take everything away, slowly and surely. Talk you into selling your belongings, and start cutting off your friends and family, if you had them to begin with. Move you out to some compound in the middle of the wilderness where no one can hear you scream for help, if you can even think to.

Then they start inciting fear. Doomsday is soon, but you’re the chosen people, so best be prepared. Best start building, because if everything isn’t perfect, there’ll only be hellfire waiting for you at the end of the line. Then, the abuse. The sickening abuse. Maybe beatings, maybe solitary confinement. Maybe starvation, or even worse than that. And you can’t help but take it, because of the honeymoon periods. Because of the times they tell you that you’re worth something.

And then, finally, the authorities catch on, or the event finally happens, “doomsday” comes, and the news the next day is nothing but pictures of bodies. Nothing more than a statistic, and you can only hope that you can even be identified when they find you.

And even if a victim got away somewhere in there, they still don’t have anything. So what is there even left to do?

Do I have that right?

Sorry if that sounds… pushy. I don’t mean it. I’ve been doing… research, since you told me. I just barely remember seeing the end result in the news. I guess I blurred it out. I was blurring out a lot of things.

The truth is, I hate that all that happened to you. I hate imagining what they must have done to you, all the pain, the suffering, and knowing you can’t go anywhere else. I hate knowing what could have… no, almost was the end result. And I hate how I reacted. I never wanted anyone to see me like that, about that. It wasn’t you, not at all. Never, I’m happy you trusted me enough to tell me all that. It’s a me issue.

For what it’s worth… you deserved to survive. And even if no one else is, and honestly I think everyone else here is, too… I’m glad you’re still here. I’m glad we met.