Linda Lee Bogard - King
Silver Member
While watching the Watchmen movie with my best friend, a scene where he boils the inmates face in oil triggered a memory - long forgotten.
Shortly after my first husband (who was gay) put a knife to my throat, he moved out and I was left running the Yucca Motel in Hollywood, Ca., there was a hooker I had to evict because she was now squatter, two weeks - no money - she had to go - I pad locked the room as required of my duties.
A few days later it was Christmas. I was cooking gravy on a hot plate when she came back expecting to get in the room. I did not know she was back on the property until I answered the door.
There stood this woman in a gold sequined gown with her armed raised above her head and in her hand; a butcher knife coming down.
Slamming the door at her hand, I then ran to the hot plate where boiling gravy became my weapon of choice and tossed it in her face just in time. All the yelling and commotion drew attention, someone had called the cops and a guy named, 'Bill,' grabbed the crazy b*tch and held onto her.
This memory was shoved in the back of my head because many other tragic memories have taken precedent due to my emotional loss. I was defending my life and have no guilt over this. But I do have trouble dealing with the anger I have for people who hurt one another on purpose.
As I told my friend the story I had come to realize another memory had been revealed in the back of my mind of greater consequence but, that's another story, another memory under a different heading - sexual trauma
Shortly after my first husband (who was gay) put a knife to my throat, he moved out and I was left running the Yucca Motel in Hollywood, Ca., there was a hooker I had to evict because she was now squatter, two weeks - no money - she had to go - I pad locked the room as required of my duties.
A few days later it was Christmas. I was cooking gravy on a hot plate when she came back expecting to get in the room. I did not know she was back on the property until I answered the door.
There stood this woman in a gold sequined gown with her armed raised above her head and in her hand; a butcher knife coming down.
Slamming the door at her hand, I then ran to the hot plate where boiling gravy became my weapon of choice and tossed it in her face just in time. All the yelling and commotion drew attention, someone had called the cops and a guy named, 'Bill,' grabbed the crazy b*tch and held onto her.
This memory was shoved in the back of my head because many other tragic memories have taken precedent due to my emotional loss. I was defending my life and have no guilt over this. But I do have trouble dealing with the anger I have for people who hurt one another on purpose.
As I told my friend the story I had come to realize another memory had been revealed in the back of my mind of greater consequence but, that's another story, another memory under a different heading - sexual trauma