Hello Mary

TW: Kidnapping, abuse, pyromaniac tendencies and masochism

Dear Mary,

The doctors are asking me to write notes. Notes to people, to say thank you for things, and you are obviously my first choice. Thank you for teaching me how to fold origami. In every fold of the paper, I found immense comfort, I do it now that the doctor said I am stable. They forced some food down my throat and told me a bunch of lies. Now I fold origami and argue with doctors, not a very interesting life. I wish they would let me talk to you.

-Aubrey, September 19th

Mary,

The doctors are pushing for more notes. They say it will help me through past trauma or something. I tune them out when they talk sappy to me. But here I am, trying to get them off my back. Today, I would like to thank you for all the cookies I got when I escaped my house and came to yours. I have a very distinct memory of them, they had a hint of hazelnut in them. Rich and fluffy, but they always left my brain fuzzy, making it hard to focus. Or really think much, everything seemed so much easier after eating those cookies. I didn't feel a need to argue, to prove my point. I felt so much better. Normally I wouldn't like to feel so impressionable, but it was strangely soothing then.

-Aubrey, September 22nd

Hello again,

You wouldn't believe the fuss the doctors are making Mary. They're quite upset I'm writing to you. Did you know they still believe the kidnapping story? I keep telling them you didn't have anything to do with my disappearance. Anyway, I've decided to continue this ritual of sending you letters. The doctors say I don't have to, but it's strangely liberating. So I think I'll thank you for the time we spent together. Everyone keeps saying that you were cruel, that you locked me up. But I distinctly remember you giving me a nice bed, food, and water. You talked to me. You understood my mind. When I woke up screaming, you wouldn't assume things. You didn't rush over and treat me like there was something wrong with me. You didn't tell me that it wasn't real, or try to reassure me. You simply smiled at me, it was refreshing. When I told you about how beautiful fire was when it stretched its long fingers, curling around a finger. Nobody understood me like you did, so thank you for that I guess.

-Aubrey, September 26th

Hi Mary,

I had a memory come back to me today. Do you remember the time that I snuck into your house, it was sometime in mid-winter. It was snowing, and I told you that I had never gotten to try hot chocolate, so you wanted to help me make it. You got out chocolate bars, you said that you had made it all by hand. I only remember that because I had asked why the chocolate tasted different, but that's beside the point. You gave me a knife, I was only 11 at the time, and I hadn't been given many opportunities with it, and I cut myself. This was when we had just started meeting, instead of crying I just looked at the blood. Then I asked why it did that, and why my finger stung. You just looked at me and told me that it was blood, and explained the human body. Nobody treated me as intelligent, due to my many abnormal behaviors. So when you explained the human body and injuries, I was fascinated. I became obsessed with the concept of injury, and you helped explain it. So thank you, for teaching me about that.

-Aubrey, October 2nd

Mary,

The doctors keep telling me about my 'case.' Keep telling me so many reasons why I should not be thankful I met you. Should not write notes to you, but I don't understand why. They weren't there, they didn't understand everything that happened. They don't understand why you kept me hidden. Why you took me away from the world. They keep telling me that being away from reality for so long messed with my memories, and my head. They keep telling me 'I know it's hard to process, and your brain is making sense of fear in a way that is easier to handle. What happened wasn't like what you remember, you were kidnapped Aubrey, and Mary wasn't a nice lady.' And I keep telling them 'no, no no no. You don't understand, she was a nice lady, a very nice lady, she taught me lots of things. She was nice, nicer than lots of people.' And they keep telling me no. No, no no no. And I can't stand it. They keep using words, words I don't like. They used the word abuse. Torture. If it wasn't for you, I would have lost my temper already. So today, I would like to thank you for teaching me patience, when you kept me away from everyone, you taught me lots of things. You taught me to be patient for one thing, and even though I wasn't always the most comfortable, I'm better off now. I can sit in a quiet room for hours without doing anything, I can wait and wait without ever getting impatient. Although the doctors are saying that my comfortableness in isolation is not patience, it is a response to trauma. But I know they're wrong, so thank you for teaching me patience.

-Aubrey, October 6th

Hello,

I'm getting tired of these people telling me things about you Mary. They want me to stop writing to you. And I'm getting frustrated. They told me that you were mean, that you hurt me. But you never hurt me that bad, you were just trying to teach me. I asked you to teach me. That's what it was. It was always that. They keep telling me lies, so many lies. And I'm starting to have nightmares, they tell me horrible things, they say that you tied me to a bedframe because you were mean. And I keep telling them to stop lying because I'm getting nightmares and fake memories. I had one specific nightmare that I remember. I was bleeding, bleeding badly, and you kept saying the same thing. You spilled a drop. And you said it meanly, but I can't remember that. When I woke up I thought I did, but it can't be real. Because you were nice. I'm positive. And the doctors won't listen. And it's all so frustrating. Because they told me that you were cruel. And now I have nightmares, I read about my 'case' online. What they're saying you did to me is awful. I got nightmares, they're incredibly vivid. Now, before I lost all my sanity, I took up an old hobby. Knitting. This is another thing you taught me to do, even though my mother is claiming to be the one who has taught me, I know it was you. I'm not allowed to keep anything I knit. And I can't knit unless somebody in a room watches me. They think I am going to try to kill myself. Not that I can blame them, I have violent tendencies. They also say that I have masochism, they say I enjoy pain. Its not something I considered before, I was always fascinated by the idea of it, I was never afraid of experiencing it. But, regardless, knitting has been wonderful. Thank you, for teaching me to knit. It's one of the only things that I enjoy, that and origami of course. Anyway, I probably won't get to write to you much more. I barely manage to write these notes, it won't be long before the pity wears off and I can't cry my way into a new piece of paper.

-Aubrey, October 8th.

Mary,

Mary. Mary, Mary, Mary. I like your name. M. A. R. Y. Something soothing about it, I'm sure that this will be the last letter I write to you, and not because I can't get more paper. The doctors have decided that I cannot be trusted. Even though some of them say that I'm remembering. I'm not, it's just fake memories. Nightmares induced by the horror stories they told me. The lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. So many lies. They think I've gone crazy. They didn't say that exactly. They think it's from trauma. Trauma. They use that word so much. They are moving me to a psychiatric ward. I've been in a normal hospital, they were monitoring my health. Now, they've decided that I am dangerous to myself or others. In their defense, I have become worse at hiding myself. I lash out easier, but it's oddly liberating to be able to lash out, to get angry. To let the little voice in the back of my head, the one that wants chaos. The one that wants to watch the effect of pain on someone's face. You taught me that, you showed me how happy you were when you let the little voice in your head have more influence. They don't think it's the voice in my head, they think it's the trauma and the 12 years that I spent missing, the, as they say, 'damage Mary inflicted' caused it. So, that's what I have to thank you for today. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to be crazy sometimes. Other people's screams will stop, but mostly, thank you for giving me an excuse. The girl who was raised better, the one who has no reason to hurt people, gets more disgusted looks than me, little me got in trouble when I hurt others. But the psychotic traumatized girl who was kidnapped and tortured for twelve years gets a free pass.

Goodbye Mary.

I'll miss you, even if I'm not supposed to.

-Aubrey