Despite having renounced everything I still live in fear that Pigface and Social Services will come after me, will invent some other false claim to accuse me of.
They could have and may yet carry on with their attacks to force my suicide and then blamed it on "her own poor mental health" or to drive me to such ill health that they end me anyway. My sense is that that is the kind of endgame both parties love: the perfect result: the one they wanted, but have no responsibility for. "She did it to herself" + not-sorrowful head-shaking.
That's what he loves, I think: the fact that the fear of the abuser still doesn't allow me to be completely free of him; that I worry that he could click his fingers in some diabolic way to start it all up again and push me over the edge.
Twisted minds love that kind of power. I can see in my mind's eye that sick grin he gets from the love of manipulation and the calculated abuse of power, that private communication from him to me that I was reminded a year ago, he used to do as a very small child.
He would lie about something he'd claim I'd done to my mum, to get me into trouble. I would get into trouble. I would be outraged at the injustice and as I was being told off he would be there watching, from the sidelines, jabbing his finger at me in sadistic glee, delighted: I've got you, I'm pulling all the strings; I can control everyone, they don't know it, but you can see it and there's nothing you can do and I'm loving it.
I thought that kind of behaviour was normal. Awful, but normal, because I told my mother the truth and was disbelieved. Now I realise it was the birth of insanity.
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