There Is Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself

"I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul." Invictus

The clinic loomed large in front of me, awash with the smell of antiseptic and bleach. I felt as if my feet were frozen to the ground as I drew to a halt, the magic vault in front of me, absolute discretion. Through the double glass doors I could see the corridor flowing ahead of me into the distance which got me moving again. Decision made, I left lighter than when I had arrived.

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Highfield House had been the most wonderful place to grow up in. Passed down through Sarah's father's side of the family it was as it sounded: a large house surrounded by fields with spectacular views. There was a whole bank of lovely memories for Sarah to look back on.

She had been an unexpected child as after many tests her mother had been told she was infertile. Whilst her parents were getting over this news the unbelievable happened and her mother became pregnant. It was almost as if her body just needed to be told what was required of it and how to do it.

Sarah's childhood had been magical. She was given her parents' full attention. They adored her, knowing she would be their only one. So they gave thanks for the child that they thought they would never have and swore to give her everything she needed to make her own way in the world with confidence and positivity. Every day they told her she was an unexpected gift, a gift with the ability to make other people as happy as they were.

So Sarah was a sunny child, a confident child. She was also a tomboy. Her father built her a treehouse and she quite happily climbed the tree before he'd even made the ladder. She had no fear, unafraid of anything it seemed.

The property had a lake some distance away. Without her parent's knowledge, when she was just six years old, she walked out onto the small jetty and dove straight into the water without knowing how to swim a single stroke. She didn't drown, she just sank to the bottom, came back up again and taught herself the doggy paddle.

Her parents were horrified when she arrived back at the house soaking wet but she couldn't understand why they were so worried about her. A prolific reader and a fan of Marvel comics, she thought of herself as a Superhero. She was Super Sarah who could do anything she chose to do. It was a wonder she survived but she did.

Her parents, at first concerned by her lack of fear, wondered whether they should establish some rules as to where on the property she could go by herself but to have done that would have changed their daughter and they loved her heart and soul just as she was. It would have been a crime to have imposed their fears on her so they let Sarah's personality continue to shine through and put no boundaries on where she could play or what she could do. They trusted her and she rewarded them by knowing her own limits. A childhood without broken bones.

Their daughter's best friend from school was Lucy and they spent all their time wandering the property, getting into mischief, though Lucy wasn't as brave. It was all harmless fun. Even when Sarah played alone she never felt lonely as she had a vivid imagination, a magical world of her own, full of other children all of her own creation. She would make up stories to act out, with the family dogs taking part in dressing up.

Sarah's favourite memory was of running down the long manicured lawn, making bubbles with a big hoop her father had made for her. The bubbles, all shiny and new, floated out in a constant stream behind her, getting bigger and bigger and more colourful as the hoop became fully soaked in the soap mixture. After a time she would stop and pop all the remaining bubbles, leaving her hair and clothes a sticky mess. Then her famous giggle that started in babyhood, would be heard echoing around the fields.

Sarah's daredevil stunts did not diminish with age. At thirteen she took her father's car and drove it for an hour before he realised both his daughter and the family car were missing. He asked Jim, one of his friends, to look for her. Jim found Sarah eventually, escorted her back home and reported back that she was quite a good driver and she hadn't been speeding. Her father promised to start giving her lessons as soon as she reached seventeen, on condition that she never took the car again.

Then came the era of boys, boys, boys. She was sensible enough to keep these early relationships light and not to get too attached to anyone. However, that didn't stop her coming home late many times. After they'd gone to bed her parents would hear her climbing the tree near her bedroom window, then jumping the gap to the drain pipe so that she could get in. Her athletic prowess knew no bounds so by this time her parents knew not to worry. It seemed like there was nothing she couldn't do.

It was with heavy hearts that they said goodbye to her at eighteen. She had done so well at school that she had been accepted onto a degree course at Durham University with an aim to enrolling with the police force.

Her biggest strength was that non-existent fear of the unknown, but it could also be viewed as her biggest weakness. The police training would rein that in so she would finally realise that in certain situations, some fear was necessary and desirable. She did very well, qualified with honours and was then fast tracked to her dream job as a detective.

It was difficult to get back home, to get leave very often, but her parents had been there for her always and proudly told her that they were overjoyed with the sensible, well adjusted, brave young woman she'd become, whose commanding officers all spoke well of her.

I missed them of course but I also missed Highfield. It had been a part of my life for so many years with so many memories attached to it. Happy memories that were able to take my mind off what was happening to me at the present moment. Now I needed to stop thinking of myself in the third person. I had completely dissociated in order to con the man who was raping me into thinking that I was compliant. I'd read lots of papers at University which said that this was the best way to handle rape. If a woman struggled and screamed it only served to further excite the rapist and the experience could go on much longer. However a woman who was completely quiet and didn't struggle became too easy a target and the physical act was not as satisfying or as long.

With my police training, if my attacker had approached me from behind, I would have wrestled him to the ground and handcuffed him, but he didn't. On the contrary he was very good looking and walked towards me smiling which caught me completely off guard. The next thing I knew I was pinned up against the wall with his arm pressed across my throat. I couldn't scream, I could barely breathe. I could have thought, 'This is all my fault' but I didn't. That was when I chose to slip into my childhood memories. To him my eyes would have seemed glassy and disinterested but as soon as he had finished I quickly focused on his face and body.

He was caught in the act within a few days due to my description of him. He was a repeat offender and many women came forward to say he had raped them too, but I got no satisfaction in seeing him get a substantial jail sentence. There was nothing in the world that would be a big enough punishment for what he had done to me and all those other women.

I never told my parents but I suppose my reaction still fell under the umbrella of me having no fear, or more precisely in this case pretending I had no fear. By dissociating I was able to totally remove myself from what could have been an extremely frightening situation.

Aborting my child had been a big decision, one I never thought I would ever have to make. Conceived in rape how could I ever look at the child and not think about it, not remember that night when I was assaulted?

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The clinic had loomed large in front of me, awash with the smells of antiseptic and bleach. But I hadn't gone in and my daughter was the light of my life. Born of a Superhero, she was later to become Miraculous Maisie!