My mom has not yet sent the letter. I am beginning to feel abandoned. I spend every day waiting for freedom from this rape house. I spend every day tethered to this torture facility waiting for my mother to set me free. I spend every day looking for a faster option. There is only one other option I have found. The British could kick my quack into line finally and demand she set me free.
The quack, Dr. Helen Reynolds, thinks I am a toy for her amusement. Not only am I her walking, tortured chemistry experiment (What will they inject me with this week?), but I now am a social experiment as well. She is now “allowing” me to go out twice a day for ½ an hour at a time each. It takes fifteen minutes to walk anywhere, and if I pass someone along the way I would like to have a conversation with, I CANNOT take the two ½-hour sessions in a row. I am allowed out, but I am not allowed to do anything nor to speak to anyone.
She claims it is a test. Yes, I know what kind of tests quacks do. At its best, it is a tease. I get ½ an hour twice a day to walk around the block because there is no way to do anything else. What is there to learn about me from this? That I know how to tell time? Quack. That is all Dr. Helen Reynolds is. She is a quack, and I am her tortured, rape-victim experiment.
The International Organization for Migration (IOM), on the other hand, has proven to be angels. On absolutely no notice, Steve and Lydia made sure I could update my paperwork with them to make sure I can still travel home once I am set free of this place. They really took care of me.
France, yes, I will see you as soon as it is guaranteed my husband and I are allowed to be together. He might want a detour through the Caribbean, but I will be there as soon as possible. My husband can have anything he wants, as far as I am concerned. I am sure you understand.
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