"The sexual life of adult women is a “dark continent” for psychology." - Sigmund Freud
Name: Susan Beckwih
Age: 17
Ethnicity: White/Caucasian
Location: Las Vegas, NV
Theo:
I come across a ton of people everyday and you stuck out since I met you.
You think, what's going on with that girl, where's her head?
You think, is she going to kill herself, does that bother me or not?
You think, why on earth would she tell me? And lastly, why does this bother me?
You rack your brain wondering why this girl racks your brain.
Susan:
"Where is my head? Well that question could be perceived in several different ways. So I guess that answer would depend on how i perceived it. My head? Its on my shoulders. Next, am I going to kill myself? Yes. Ive got nothing to live for. No goals or aspirations, no obvious skills or intelligence. Why waste my time or take up space that I don't deserve? Now, whether that bothers you or not is up to you to decide.
Theo:
*Rubs his palms*
*Cracks his knuckles*
Ok I get it, you think your head is on your shoulders. The neck bone is connected to the head bone or whatever. I wanna know where you left your mind.
Next, I'm not quite sure why I want to know or care if you kill yourself. I've just never heard anyone speak so fervently about their premeditated destruction.
Goals, aspirations, skills, intelligence, blah blah blah blah then you're dead. Ok.
I have some weird thing inside me that is attracted to the used up, torn up, and left behind.
Susan:
I would love to read your books before they are finished, hopefully they will be before I am.
Theo:
I think you should find your mind and get it back in your head before you blow it off.
Susan:
Well it's not just that I'm crazy, it's also what has happened to me in my life.
I cant sleep because I have night terrors. Not just nightmares but terrors. I cant sleep because I'm afraid, but I want to sleep because I'm afraid of what I see when I'm awake. I know these things aren't real, but they feel real. Real enough to scare the shit outta me at least. And then when I finally do sleep I have nightmares. Well, more like flashbacks. The things that happened to me when I was younger replay themselves in my dream. So in essence, night-time is hell for me whether I'm sleeping or wide awake. I hate feeling so drained.
Theo:
What are your flashbacks?
What are your night terrors?
What are your hallucinations?
What are you afraid of?
What happened to you?
Tell me in excess.
Susan:
I was raped everyday for almost two years by a man whose face or name I cant remember. I was seven when it started. Almost nine before it stopped. Those nights replay in my mind whenever I close my eyes, everything but his face. I was raped in July too. That's when the night terrors started. I see him and hear him everywhere, in my house even. I know he's nowhere near me in my logical brain but I still see him. I still hear him. I can still smell the alcohol on his breath sometimes. I'm scared to death of it happening again. Its the worst feeling in the world when I was not strong enough to push him off. And then I feel disgusting and I hate myself for not fighting harder. Even though I tried so hard I obviously didn't try hard enough or he wouldn't have overpowered me. So somehow it's all my fault.
Theo:
I know where you live. I'm coming to your house tomorrow around 2.
Susan:
Why? What do you have to tell me? Okay, that's fine.
Theo:
I want to know you, so I can write about you.
I did, I wanted to know everything that was in her head, but it's no longer in her head. She couldn't sleep that night. She drowned herself in a bottle of vodka and swallowed 12 lortabs. Then when she was still able to crawl, she went into the garage and loaded the gun.
There was no hope for her. I couldn't save her and she knew that.
Just sort of blew the writing experience when I drove past her street and saw the cops.
Poor Susan, your whole life fell on deaf ears.
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