This was going to be a horror story; it morphed to some different genre.
Trigger Warning: child abuse, traumatic childhood memories, SA—Please keep yourself safe. Do not continue reading if you are negatively affected mentally, emotionally, or psychologically. If you are under the care of a therapist, psychologist, counselor, or psychiatrist, please consult with that professional before reading, listening farther.
Vicki felt her diaper coming off. She wondered why; she wasn’t wet or dirty. It was cold. She hadn’t had her bottom bared in the basement before. She felt confused because this was out of routine. And, Mama wasn’t there. Mama was always there when she needed her diaper changed.
“But I don’t need it changed,” she remembered.
Victoria shook herself awake. Good lord, what was that all about? She kicked her legs vigorously, not starting to panic yet. She hated being tangled in the sheets; she felt the dread of not being able to free herself. Trapped, ugh, a fly stuck on the fly paper in the barn? The baby rabbit in the live trap? Was she relating to these other living beings who were torturously captured for the “good” of men?
Well, it didn’t matter now, and she flung herself up from bed and started towards the bathroom. She had to get to work, no more being late or Bossy McBoss Man would be on her ass again. That’s the last thing she needed today.
Half an hour later she was heading out the door to the car, showered, made up, dressed in a favorite shirt and slacks. Victoria was on tap today; she had that Connor Account presentation to make. She wasn’t worried about it; she knew what she was doing. She’d been doing real estate deals for over twelve years; she had them down pat.
Arriving at the office in the tiny downtown of her small Western Wisconsin city, (can barely 2500 souls be counted as a city?) she slipped off her jacket, checked her low-heeled pumps for grit and grime, went into the kitchenette, got a cup of coffee Adelaide had made. Thank heavens for the likes of the office manager. How does any one person train herself to be so efficient? Or, maybe it isn’t training at all. Maybe she was born that way.
Lady Gaga’s hit started earworming its way into her brain, “born this way, ohhh ohhh, born this way.”
“C’mon, Vic,” she scolded herself, “you need to run over your slides, refresh your memory.”
Vicki was lying on the laundry table again, her cold little legs kicking in the dampness of the basement air. Still wondering what the deal was, she realized Uncle Paul was coming up beside her, and talking in a hoarsy-whispery voice that she hadn’t heard before.
“There ya go, Honey, we’ll warm you up now. We’re all ready to get ‘er done.”
She had no idea what “get ‘er done,” meant but his hands were nice and warm as he placed them-one on each of her legs, stilling them so she wasn’t kicking any more.
Victoria jerked upright, startled out of some kind of dream state. “Is that what a ‘fugue state‘ feels like?”
She’d been reading about different states of consciousness and had been practicing meditation, trying to get into a trance so she could communicate with her spirit guides. This wasn’t a meditative state though. She hadn’t sat to meditate. No, she needed wide-awake conscious awareness for this business presentation for the client and her colleagues in the office.
She looked at the clock, saw that she’d only spaced-out for a couple of minutes. She still had time to review the major highlights of the plan she’d put together.
Her coffee was getting cold, though. She went back into the kitchenette to warm it up and greeted Madelaine who was taking one of her 5-minute “refresher breaks” as she called them. They seemed to work for her because Madelaine was on top of her duties and of the schedules for all teammates in the office.
As she poured her coffee, Victoria spied the little cutie oranges someone had brought in. So much better than cookies or doughnuts. She grabbed one thinking she could peel and eat it quickly before everyone gathered in the conference room to have her educate them about how the development of the Conner property might fit into their own clients’ portfolios.
Victoria decided she might as well get her materials set up in the conference room. She could eat the orange in there. She loved the way those lil cuties peeled so easily, and cleanly, leaving their citrus smell on her fingers but not spraying juice all over her blouse and/or papers like regular oranges did.
Vicki was slogging through the cowyard, early-thawing spring; her chore boots were getting sucked off her feet. The defrosting mud and manure making a sludge thicker than swamp land. With each step she teetered on first her right foot then her left. Her legs and feet felt trapped. Damn, why hadn’t she thought to bring a stick to help her stay upright? She’d fallen in the mess before-last spring. It was really awful to be on all fours in manure, trying to stand back up and get out of there.
No one was around to help her either, neither Robert nor Janet would help even if they were around. Plus, she couldn’t call for them: for the last few weeks she found herself mute. She’d open her mouth to say something and it just wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t laryngitis though she pretended that it was. It was a freezing up of her voice. Like someone had silenced her.
But who would tell her not to talk and why would she obey their command?
She could talk at school but she really didn’t want to. It felt comforting somehow, to be enveloped in the silence of her own thoughts.
“Victoria, What’s up? Doing the Connor Project presentation today? I thought it was at 10 AM. Where’s everybody else?” Jed had wandered into the conference room ready for some elucidation on the topic of small town development.
Victoria jumped. Man, what was up with her today? She had slept well. Had her coffee. But she just kept sliding into daydreams, finding herself back on the farm, in not-so-pleasant memories.
She was just now in reverie of sorts about that stupid time when she was twelve? thirteen? when she didn’t talk for a couple months and then that time she almost fell again in the cowyard. Oh, what a grace that she hadn’t fallen. She hadn’t had to take the humiliating taunts of her dad, chiming in a sing-songy voice, “Vicki’s the only one in the family who knows what horse shit tastes like!”
That idiot saying was from when she was only two and fell off the hay wagon as they played “kitty in the corner” and landed face first in a fresh cowpie. She remembered running, screaming into the house for Mama to help clean her up.
God, she needed to slap her own face. She hadn’t gathered the crew around to begin the presentation. Jed was right. It was time.
“Will you go gather the others, Jed? I just have a bit to look at one last time. By the time they get here, I’ll be ready. Not sure what made me forget what I was doing.”
Jed said, “Sure,” and hurried out the door.
Ok, so where was she? She checked the laptop and made sure the PowerPoint was all lined up. She’d made copies of the slides so her co-workers could easily follow along and have something to take with them to remember the salient points.
Vicki was back in the basement again. She was crying loud. She wasn’t cold any more but something was hurting her. Her dad was there now, telling her to stop the bawling. He had put her diaper back on and was joking around with Uncle Paul. “We gotta get this kid shut up before Diane’s mother comes down looking for what’s wrong. Here, you take her and see if she’ll take a bottle and quit that belly-aching. I’ll make sure everything’s copecetic down here.”
Paul giggled. He and Daddy had left bottles all over the laundry table and the floor. There were rags and napkins scattered all around. Daddy bent over to pick something up and made a gagging sound like he was gonna thrown up. Vicki had a sour taste in her mouth like maybe she had thrown up too. Were they all gonna be sick?
Uncle Paul took Vicki back upstairs and got her a bottle of milk. It did help her to quit sobbing. She sucked the bottle giving a little hiccup every once in awhile. Uncle Paul carried her to her crib and helped her hold the bottle up so she could finish it herself. She liked it better when Mama held and rocked her as she drank her milk, but this was okay. She was so tired. Uncle Paul patted her head and said, “There ya go, Vicki, go to sleep. that wasn’t all that bad, now, was it?” He left still giggling a little bit.
“Victoria, what’s wrong with you?” Her boss was leaning over her. Madelaine was right there, too. Jed, Gary, and Monica were solicitous but more distant. Apparently, Mr. Connor was going to be late or not show up for the presentation. Victoria admitted she was glad. She had been prepared but now she felt disoriented. What was this vagueness that had come over her? She had found herself stuttering and slurring her words and stumbling over sentence structure like a dyslectic kid in the classroom.
She decided she better just not talk. Maybe she was getting sick and oughta take the rest of the day off. Thank Heavens old Mr. Conner had failed to show. What a great piece of luck.
Her boss was telling her to get some sleep and to let them know if she needed any help. He asked if she could manage to get home by herself. She assured everyone she could.
“You should all go back to work on your own projects; I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goddamn, that was enmbarrassing,” She climbed into her car. She went back home with everything she’d brought to work. It wasn’t even 11:00 yet. She had the entire day to put herself back together.
Vicki was sitting on her dad’s lap. Gosh, she didn’t have on any clothes but she was having fun. Daddy was bucking her up and down—she was riding a pony! She realized Daddy didn’t have clothes on either. Oh well, the weather is warm today, “I guess it’s okay.”
Vicki felt the part of the saddle they called a pommel, she thought, pushing up and down on her “putty.” It felt kinda good and made her giggle more. She loved it when she got to play with Daddy and none of the other kids were there.
Mama wasn’t home either. She was at the hospital having another lil baby. Grandma was taking care of them most of the day, but she went up to take a nap for a couple hours. So fun because Daddy came to find her and asked if she wanted to ride horsey again.
Vicki wondered where Uncle Paul was. He always used to come over and play with her and her dad, but he didn’t come over any more. I guess he was staying home to play horsey with Cousin Sarah or Cousin Connie since they were getting big like her now.
Victoria’s dream startled her awake. Why was she having dreams like that? Dreams? or nightmares? She couldn’t understand where these abhorrent images could come from. She got up and hurried around her room picking up her scattered clothes, even her underwear. Now why did she strip herself naked for an afternoon nap?
Victoria was ready to leave the hospital. She was talking again. She hardly ever broke out sobbing for no reason at all. She no longer felt like she was a “dirty girl” like she’d started calling herself before they had taken her scratching and hitting herself from her apartment that night six months ago.
She was okay. She had her medication and her therapist. She could call her anytime. She had done some hard work of learning what had made her turn into a blubbering mass of despair. She was grateful. Her mom and dad and her Uncle Paul had died years ago, but she’d done the work of confronting them anyway. It was healing and cleansing and the humiliation of her childhood had been completely washed away.
Song Lyrics
**Title: Put Myself Back Together**
**Verse 1**
Vicki felt her diaper coming off, basement air was cold
Mama wasn’t there this time, routine breaking the mold
She woke up tangled in the sheets, dread she couldn’t free
Like a fly on barnyard paper, caught where she shouldn’t be
**Verse 2**
Half an hour later heading out, coffee in her hand
Connor Account presentation, she knew the deal, she had a plan
Twelve years in real estate deals, slides lined up just right
But old farm memories kept drifting in the middle of the light
**Chorus (Hopeful Refrain)**
But we’re still here, breathing, stepping into day
Putting ourselves back together, finding our way
What was hidden can surface and still set us free
We are more than what happened—we’re who we choose to be
**Verse 3**
Laundry table basement air, hoarse whisper in her ear
Hands on little kicking legs, words she didn’t hear clear
Victoria jerks awake again, “Is this a fugue state?”
Coffee getting cold while the conference room waits
**Verse 4**
Cowyard mud in early thaw, boots sucked off her feet
Mute for weeks though school had words, silence felt complete
Dad’s old sing-song taunt still echoes in her mind
Yet she steadies, doesn’t fall, leaves that mess behind
**Chorus**
But we’re still here, breathing, stepping into day
Putting ourselves back together, finding our way
What was hidden can surface and still set us free
We are more than what happened—we’re who we choose to be
**Verse 5**
Presentation day goes sideways, words begin to blur
Boss says get some rest tonight. "You take care of yourself, sir."
She drives home before eleven, heart a little sore
But knows she has the whole long day to heal a little more
**Verse 6**
Years later leaving hospital, voice returned again
Medication, therapist, courage to begin
Faced the ghosts who shaped her pain, washed the shame away
Now she stands in open light, starting a new day
**Final Chorus (Hopeful Refrain)**
We’re still here, breathing, stepping into day
Putting ourselves back together, finding our way
The child inside is rising, finally safe and free
Love outlives the darkness—that’s our victory
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