December 01, 2014


Fabulous Gabapentin not so fabulous today. Pain pretty bad. Well it is the first of December and yesterday was St Andrews day.  Someone posted something about the St Andrews cross looking painful we just scrolled on, wishing we answered 'yes we can confirm that' or blocked them.

No work on statement tonight not after last night which pretty much forced ourselves into it and then dissociated, in a 'shit where are we and where were we before that' it didnt last too long we have a just below the surface part that finds that shit amusing because it challenges the sense that we are just weak, lazy and making it up.  It creeps some of us out but it also helps avoid anxiety which is kind of a life saver.  Inquiry have said they have said they are going to send on the details of the support. What a laugh that will be.

Verbalising today. 'Mummy' Seeing the murder of young girl. When I had one bed on one side of the room and another, think that makes us about 14/15 in 79 years. She is about 2 or 3. She looks at me and says mummy, over and over as the men rape her against the South side bed while I am on mine on the North. We are not in total shock, we have seen acts likes this before and know it. Think there is three of them, white blokes, Scottish organised crime but the other two, rich fathers? media careers? music industry.. Can't say.   Doesnt make it less horrible when you are familiar with it just doenst cause the same level of dissociation. One of the blocks says to her 'keep saying that.' She does. 'Mummy, Mummy' Not like she was begging for my help, just reaching for a connection in hell, see me, remember me, love me. They obscure my view of her face for a bit and she isnt saying anything then her body starts to shake and jerk and I know she is dead.

The bloke who told her to keep saying 'mummy' zips up his trousers and says some stuff. I don't listen I never did. Instructions and threats probably. It's just a job to him but his pride in completing it was obvious, the other two were younger and had a look of relishing it like it wasnt a job as much as a leisure activity like they choose to be there.

After remembering that we saw the bottle feeding, sitting on my bed in the same place in the room, smiles, hugs and lullabys. They like to make sure I had bonded with victims before the killing. Tried and tested technique if you are determined to survive by staying human.

Think we have posted this before but maybe it was a draft or handwritten scribbles.  What does it matter, the killers are dead or protected. The bones crushed, limed, sunk, incinerated.  Or kept in places, no will be looking anytime soon.

I couldnt even get my dad to lock the doors, not that it would matter, him or my mum, sisters, of whoever would just let them in anyway.