Post by Dr. Josephine Hudson on Aug 30, 2010 9:43:18 GMT
That evil, evil, evil bastard. Morpheus Brown. And yes, Morpheus, not Morph. He doesn't deserve the right to have his name the way he wants it. He deserves nothing more than to be tied down and poked with burning pokers, or something of the like. I cannot believe what he did to Francesca - my first selective mute at St. Dympha's; a tiny, beautiful thing. She was abused, raped by her father and uncle, and it saddens me to think that that is a fairly common story with my mutes. My mutes? I suppose I do think of them as so.
Anyway, onto what Morpheus did to her. Peter reported it all to me, and offered me a tissue when I burst into tears. I felt bad for embarrassing him, but more bad for Francesca. As far as Peter can tell, and from what I can make of her gestures (and few, few words), Morpheus pinned her in her chair - throwing her lovely photographs across the room, we discovered later, and the poor girl didn't even mentionthat - and then twisted her arm, trying to make her talk. Then, the worst bit, the part that makes me want to throttle him...he kissed her. Yes, the girl that was repeatedly raped and has PTSD, and hates to be touched (almost as much as me).
I would have preferred that he kiss-raped me again rather than doing it to Francesca. It's such a set-back in her progress, and despite the safety we've promised her, how is she supposed to feel safe with someone like him walking about? He has been forbidden to speak with her, but that in no way means that he won't. In fact, it may encourage him to speak to her - he has a blatant disregard for rules. Anyway, Morpheus doesn't need to speak to her to have power over her. He can scare her by just a look; a smile; anything he wants, and the thought terrifies me. I wish that I was in her position - not because I like the idea, but because then I could take the mental anguish that she must be suffering away. I've never been good with watching other people be in pain. Which is reason number #77 I don't have AS, on a side-note.
Writing of (speaking of didn't sound right), Riordan - the other sadist that I've been burdened with appeared to have guessed my diagnosis in our last session; that, or someone told him. I can't imagine who, though. Gabe is the only person here who knows, I believe, although he may have mentioned it to Peter, but I cannot picture either of them telling anyone without my consent, let alone a sadistic student. I'm slightly worried that Rio will mention the information to another student - the ones like Francesca and Laura wouldn't care, but Morpheus would most likely be awful about it. When Rio asked me about it, I got...slightly upset, and may have quoted Rainman to him. Without the may have. I was upset, with cause, although I suppose that was a slightly extreme reaction. However, when your student is threatening to break your fingers, you tend to have extreme reactions. It's justified.
Oh; the fingers breaking thing. I should write about that, but honestly, writing in this bores me. What am I supposed to write about? I tend to put anything that is on my mind down, and then look back, and regret it. I suppose this journal will be of use in the future, however, if I do develop Alzheimer's or another degenerative condition affective the memory. The thought of not having every memory since I was about four scares me; I suppose this will be an entertaining read when I am older. Will the older me want to know about Riordan? Maybe, to laugh at. When I am old, I hope that I am much more relaxed about things than I am currently; small things upset me so and throw my whole day off balance. I'd like to be like Peter, but using less formal language, and I'd like to be a lot more female.
Anyway, the short version of what happened: Riordan pinned my hands to my desk, kissed me, and threatened to break my fingers. Then we kissed some more (he pulled my hair lots) and then--- I have to go. My half hour of writing is up. I'll finish tomorrow.
Jo.
Anyway, onto what Morpheus did to her. Peter reported it all to me, and offered me a tissue when I burst into tears. I felt bad for embarrassing him, but more bad for Francesca. As far as Peter can tell, and from what I can make of her gestures (and few, few words), Morpheus pinned her in her chair - throwing her lovely photographs across the room, we discovered later, and the poor girl didn't even mentionthat - and then twisted her arm, trying to make her talk. Then, the worst bit, the part that makes me want to throttle him...he kissed her. Yes, the girl that was repeatedly raped and has PTSD, and hates to be touched (almost as much as me).
I would have preferred that he kiss-raped me again rather than doing it to Francesca. It's such a set-back in her progress, and despite the safety we've promised her, how is she supposed to feel safe with someone like him walking about? He has been forbidden to speak with her, but that in no way means that he won't. In fact, it may encourage him to speak to her - he has a blatant disregard for rules. Anyway, Morpheus doesn't need to speak to her to have power over her. He can scare her by just a look; a smile; anything he wants, and the thought terrifies me. I wish that I was in her position - not because I like the idea, but because then I could take the mental anguish that she must be suffering away. I've never been good with watching other people be in pain. Which is reason number #77 I don't have AS, on a side-note.
Writing of (speaking of didn't sound right), Riordan - the other sadist that I've been burdened with appeared to have guessed my diagnosis in our last session; that, or someone told him. I can't imagine who, though. Gabe is the only person here who knows, I believe, although he may have mentioned it to Peter, but I cannot picture either of them telling anyone without my consent, let alone a sadistic student. I'm slightly worried that Rio will mention the information to another student - the ones like Francesca and Laura wouldn't care, but Morpheus would most likely be awful about it. When Rio asked me about it, I got...slightly upset, and may have quoted Rainman to him. Without the may have. I was upset, with cause, although I suppose that was a slightly extreme reaction. However, when your student is threatening to break your fingers, you tend to have extreme reactions. It's justified.
Oh; the fingers breaking thing. I should write about that, but honestly, writing in this bores me. What am I supposed to write about? I tend to put anything that is on my mind down, and then look back, and regret it. I suppose this journal will be of use in the future, however, if I do develop Alzheimer's or another degenerative condition affective the memory. The thought of not having every memory since I was about four scares me; I suppose this will be an entertaining read when I am older. Will the older me want to know about Riordan? Maybe, to laugh at. When I am old, I hope that I am much more relaxed about things than I am currently; small things upset me so and throw my whole day off balance. I'd like to be like Peter, but using less formal language, and I'd like to be a lot more female.
Anyway, the short version of what happened: Riordan pinned my hands to my desk, kissed me, and threatened to break my fingers. Then we kissed some more (he pulled my hair lots) and then--- I have to go. My half hour of writing is up. I'll finish tomorrow.
Jo.