Kevin was working on the air conditioning on 4th level rooftop with Kirk, while I've been instructed to sunbath on 3rd level jacuzzi terrace with nothing on except a white suede Indian wedding tunic - two long beaded flaps of fabric - with the front thrown back over my head, leaving my body exposed to both men from their perch above. Just the act of putting this on had an effect on me, a baby trigger, prepping for what was coming.
After they'd finished whatever they were doing up-there, Kirk asked if I would give Kevin oral sex...actually he said "blow-job", and at that moment, with those words...the trigger...when I was trying to say no, I was suddenly talking and acting like a young child, like JonBenét Patricia Ramsey..."No, Daddy"! I yelled, climbing like a monkey up the ladder from the jacuzzi deck to the graveled top level trying to get away. Each time Kirk chased me and brought me down, "I sorry Daddy, I sorry! An obviously disappointed and surprised Kevin leaves.
Kirk tells me to be a good girl and do as Daddy says. I'm to take a bath and shave myself in the genital area back by my anus,
then to lie on the bathroom rug and clean my anus out with one of the little blue sponge rollers he'd given me to roll my hair to look like JonBenét's..."Daddy likes everything clean, and didn't I know how unhappy it made Daddy when I didn't do like he said?" When I'm done I'm to put on my white lacy hippy gown, and told to sit on the little cowhide bench in the living room.
I was trembling and scared, and thought I could hear "The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You" coming in from the vents. Also, back in the bathroom, and this is craaazzzy...I 
could hear Director John Huston and Actor Danny DaVito discussing women as though they were HORSES!...Monroe and Bardot were discussed as I remember...Danny DaVito?
A police officer friend and I tried to figure out what were the programming tools used...a combo of hypnosis, trauma induced structural disassociation, Rohypnol, GHB, GBL, Ketamine, Ecstasy, Klonopin, Datura or PCP in the marijuana pipe? When Kirk took me to see Guru San, the cult leader who would assess me as Brothel material, I was flyyyiinngg on something wild. That I did not pass, meant I'd be hunted at Ramana, the DuPont's estate in Taos...if I survived that, Costa Rica...Come to find out from one of his ex-wives (had four) that he kept shrooms in his freezer.
Kirk's apparent turn-on narrative had me acting like I'd just been dropped-off by Mommy to stay with him for the weekend, like divorced couples do. He brings me a mug of cold water while I'm on the cowhide stool - I know something from the freezer was put in it as I heard the door open and slammed closed - as he was returning to the kitchen I hold the mug over my head, tilting it slowly, spilling it over my head, like I was trying to dowse myself out of a trance...my arm operating independent from my mind...I now know it was Sage...
Well this pisses him off and he gets mad, but mad like he likes to get mad at me, I can't quite explain it, like he was getting off being mad at a little girl, me. He brings me another mug, and I do it again. SAGE does it again! OK, so now he's REALLY MAD..."Get over here to the couch, you know what you've made Daddy have to do!"... He pulls the white lace dress over my head and has me lay on my back with my legs up over my head, exposing my bottom, preparing to penetrate..."You know Daddy likes to watch..."
I am in a complete panic now, but Sage is Ms. Cool as a Cucumber; "I have to go potty Daddy". He lets me go to the bathroom, were Sage & I light the Potpourri in a porcelain bowl sitting on the back of the toilet, then scratch HELP on the bathroom wall with the now charcoal-coated matchstick. Kirk comes in, freaks out yelling "Is that what JonBenét did?" (How the Hell would I know?!!) "YES" I yell, pushing past him and bolting out the front door, buck-naked.
Running out the condo's driveway towards Comanche road I'm like "Sarah, you're running nude down the street in public" when Sage yells "RUN"!
Make it across Tramway's six lanes, remember I'm barefoot & naked - apparently invisible to the rushing commuters - casually sit on the bus bench, get up to wrap my arms around the light post, slide down, and...urinate, then over the wall of a small pueblo home on the corner. I see a saw-horse in the far corner, mount it, and start reciting, no, just like I'm talking, proclaiming the “Myself to Myself” Odin's Norse poem Hávamál..."Hung I was on the windswept tree; Nine full nights I hung, Pierced by a spear, a pledge to the god, To Odin, myself to myself, On that tree which none can know the source"...wtf?
Crawl over to the dog's water bowl by the back door, slurpping, growling as I feel foot-steps other side of the door...I pivot and dash...like a Wolf...to the adobe wall, but before leaping I twist my head and spew a bull
et of a spitball at him, God, like 10 feet, then growl"bad man! bad man! as I'm up and over...bet I ruined his evening.
Able to focus on a high-school student walking back from boxing practice across the street, and frigg'n fly across Comanche to him for protection. I ask for the large ball he is holding to put in front of me as we walk back up to the condo, Kirk watching from the balcony up the hill. I ask his name. "John"...He is a Cool Cat and is every inch my protector...like this happens every day...I've just started to wonder if he was my deceased brother Johnny stepping in to escort me and put the fear of God in Kirk.
Reaching the condo driveway, we meet Kirk solemnly standing next to the large garbage can waiting for pick-up the next day...I ask if I'm supposed to get into the can or go into the garage. John silently stares at Kirk as I"m told to go into the condo. John has just saved my life from being hunted the next day.
When Kirk comes into the condo, he takes me up to clean my cuts in the shower, then puts me to bed. In the morning I'm told to pack as we are going to the airport. I ask to take the pony footstool I'd been told to sit on while being served the drugged water mugs, and he said ok...This is back before 9/11, so I got through the gates with no passport or license, as Kirk had them...I was flying faster than the jet, sitting there with my pony stool together running the loudest silence the surrounding passengers ever wish to hear again. Did not receive my I.Ds for another six weeks. He'd taken them for transport to Costa Rica.
The day after I've arrived home, covered in bruises and cuts, my family made the difficult decision to put me in a local, public lock-down mental ward like "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; they did not have them take a blood test. The reason they took me there was I had no insurance, and I had 
been pacing the carpet making a speech in a language they could not understand, It was a now now extinct version of TIWA. That Murtagh started a hilarious dialogue as I was secured to the gurney certainly make them feel they'd made the right decision. I've been told they thought they'd never see me again.
I was wheeled and released in a room with a large plastic covered bed in the center. The light was turned off, and "click" the door locked. The Sage began to hum something beautiful, maybe a TIWA lullaby, while putting me through a series of moves which, as a prior Hatha Yoga teacher, were beyond sophisticated and un-repeatable once I was out of there and stable. That was her last appearance. It is the intention of this website to help me manifest her again.
Us for-the-street nuts were locked in a large room with a ping-pong table. Murtagh walked up to a game and did a routine very much like Jack did on Cuckoo's Nest, pulled it out of his ass and made much merriment in the face of a soulless incarnation. After, a doctor looked me over in the hall making a phone call and had one of the West African attendants bring me to a room while handcuffed to a wheelchair; I won't share details, but my attendant was in a rage while tenderly wheeling me back as the huge steel doors opened once again upon mayhem.
I’m in the back…Same age as JonBenét…programmed to please…Younger Brother & my cat had recently been…unlived
