WARNING! THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG GRAPHIC SEXUAL LANGUAGE AND MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES.
THEY SKINNED ME ALIVE! How can I describe to you what it’s like having your every thought put on public display for the amusement of others. The closest I can come to it, is to say, it’s kind of like having your skin peeled off your body in long painful strips that leaves you feeling totally exposed.
It was the death, of me that believed that good always triumphed over evil, my faith in authority, my trust in my fellow man. All of that died in me and this time there’d be no resurrection from the grave.
That first day I had refused to acknowledge hearing ‘The Voices’ because I was afraid. Afraid of what hearing them again meant. And truth be told I couldn’t bear the thought of going through all of that again.
When I got home that evening I sat in my car for a long time and just cried. I let the fear wash over me. Somehow, I knew the life I’d built here in New Orleans was over!
By the time I’d finished crying, I had made up my mind that this was not going to be another Maywood. I was going to prove to everyone just who the disturbed person really was in this situation.
Back in Maywood, I’d been made to feel that I deserved everything that had happened to me. Not this time. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Nor was I feeling the least bit guilty about the way I’d lived my life since coming here. I didn’t deserve this! And I knew it!
I went back to work the next day, and for all the days that followed until Exxon told me not to come back.
The next time I heard my name, it was being screamed, down the hall, at me. I understood in that moment that everything I’d been through from childhood till now had been real. For there was no imagining those vile, contemptible shrieks.
Everyday, at work, I listened to:
“Eliza, your pussy stinks. Eliza, you need to go and put on a new Kotex. Eliza, wipe between your legs when you pee and don’t forget to wipe the crack of your ass when you finish.”
Everyday, I put a smile on my face, and went about doing my job while listening to ‘The Voices’ spewing their filth on a floor filled with young men. Needless-to-say, having them hear that sort of stuff about me made it difficult to look them in the eye.
I assume Exxon thought they were teaching me a lesson on team work because I wouldn’t give Cynthia the wardrobe disk. Letting ‘The Voices’ into my workplace was Exxon’s very graphic way of showing me what they’d done for me. They’d kept the Boogieman or Boogiewomen at bay. And they wanted reciprocation.
But what they didn’t know was that they were the ones being manipulated. Cynthia never really wanted the wardrobe disk. She was placed there solely to cause trouble. If it hadn’t been the wardrobe it would have been something else.
All of it, I came to the realization later was about keeping me from marrying Allen. For if I had married Allen, those freaks would not have been to keep getting their rocks off using me.
After several months of listening to that kind of filth, I made the decision to give up my new wardrobe. I went home one Friday night, after a particularly nasty week listening to ‘The Voices’ and packed it all up in eight thirty-gallon plastic trash bags, and early on Saturday morning dropped it off at Community Christian Concern as a donation. Exxon gave me a raise.
MERIT SALARY TREATMENT
7.5% INCREASE $109/month
New monthly salary $1515/month (from $1406 a month)
Note – new classification – 13 (versus old 03)
Title – Secretary – Clerical
Well, I finally got the promotion I’d always wanted. And, by the way, I kept the slip of paper that this note was written on as a reminder. But not of the raise, of something else. It reminds me NOT TO TRUST!