Alexandra

[Golden Applesauce]

This is a true story. Because of its personal nature, all names have been changed. Told with permission of the heroine.
Keywords: Abnormal Psychology, Abuse, Retail, and Decent Human Beings

I met Alexis (short for "Alexandra") in college, my junior year, her freshman year. She showed up to an Anime Club meeting one day, invited by Bob (her future boyfriend) and ended up staying late afterwards to play Cosmic Encounters with us. Our geek circle drafted her after that - not many people were willing to put up with my roommate's girlfriend's game of choice, which was two decrepit copies of Cosmic Encounter, different editions, each owned by one of her parents before they dated each other, and played with barely-remembered house rules.

Alexis is short and thin, with glasses and pretty blonde hair. She can un-dislocate her shoulder by slamming into a wall, a trick she learned because her shoulder joints are weak and will dislocate if her arms are raised too high above her head. It didn't stop her from being active in Tae Kwon Do and play-sparring with us, so we got to see it a lot. She was peppy and energetic, acted like a stereotypical "genki girl". She hugged friends as a way of greeting, and laughed when Bob and I awkwardly flopped, too INTP to return the hug properly. When anyone did anything for her, no matter how small, she gushed gratitude. She smiled a lot. Usually when someone says this about a person, they mean that he was happy. I mean that she emoted. She smiled a lot, and when something especially good happened she would squee and say "Happy Face!" out loud, in case anyone didn't see how much she was smiling.

I stopped using the word "rape" casually because of Alexis. I played video games a lot, both with friends and online, and I had picked up some gamer slang. "Pwn" was getting stale, and gamers were reaching for new words to embellish games. If you were winning across the board, you were "dominating" your opponent. If an opponent was capitalizing on your play errors, you were being "spanked". A game that was shamefully and utterly one-sided was described as "rape", as in "Z nine-pooled and 'toss fucked up his opening placement, so when the 'lings hit his mineral line from the opposite side they basically anally raped all his workers with ten-foot barbed poles."

Alexis enjoyed playing video games with us, but lurid descriptions like that caused her to stop having fun. She asked me to stop, so I did, first around her and then at all. It was surprisingly easy to cut a word from my vocabulary. I've seen some heated arguments on gaming forums about political correctness and censorship and 'feminazis', and while I'm as against Nazis censoring people as the next guy, none of those arguments really matter when loose speech is preventing a friend and fellow gamer from enjoying the games we love.

At this point I should mention that rape is going to be important to this story, and I need to include a few details for all the events to make sense. If reading about the kind of child abuse and sexual assault that causes PTSD might upset you, exercise your judgment. This chapter of Alexis's life has a -- well, not exactly a happy ending, but at least an optimistic ending. If you yourself are struggling with PTSD, her story might be useful to you. I'll give you another warning before the sections that contain potential triggers.

To be continued as I write it down.

[Pæs]

Posting to follow this thread.

[Junkenstein]

Ditto.

[East Coast Hustle]

OK, you've got me reeled in so far.

As an aside, I can't help but notice that while I may not always agree with what you're saying, you have a writing style that I enjoy. It strikes a great balance between being pointedly factual and getting the reader to empathize with the subject.

[LMNO]

OK, you've got me reeled in so far.

As an aside, I can't help but notice that while I may not always agree with what you're saying, you have a writing style that I enjoy. It strikes a great balance between being pointedly factual and getting the reader to empathize with the subject.

That.  Please go on, when you have a chance.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Listening.

[Golden Applesauce]

After one year, Alexis transferred from University X to Yellowstone University for financial reasons. Yellowstone University is less expensive than University X, and close enough to the city we all lived in that she could commute from her parent's home. She still made the two drive up to visit us at University X a few times during my senior year, even though she had to scrape for gas money. When she came, we'd stay up late playing board games and she'd tell us stories about her new-old life.

She told us that her YU advisor didn't think she was smart enough for her Engineering/German double major, and tried to get her to switch to Business. She said that when she made mistakes in class other engineering students would make dumb blonde jokes. She never mentioned making any friends at YU, and she didn't have many friends in City Y, where she had lived her whole life.

The only thing I knew about her parents was that they were conservative Christians. Specifically, they did not approve of anime, so when they called Alexis during UX Anime Club she had to run out of the room so they wouldn't hear what was going on. I had suggested simply not answering the phone, but to not pick up when her parents called was unthinkable.

• Warning: parental abuse follows.

I mention her parents because the most important story she told us that year was about when her parents called the cops on her. My understanding of what happened is that some time in the late evening, Alexis was in her room getting ready to go out, I think maybe to see her boyfriend Clarence. Her mom did not want her to leave, and stood bodily in the doorway to trap Alexis in her bedroom. Alexis tried to push past her mother, who I am told is quite overweight and would have filled most of the doorway. Her mother considered this an attack and struck Alexis, knocking her over, and then tried to pin her 20-year old daughter to the floor while continuing to beat her. At some point during the fight, Alexis bites her mother on the arm. That must have been enough for them to disengage, because the next thing her mother did was call the police. They come, her mother shows the police the fresh bite mark on her arm, says "Look what she did to me!" indicating her daughter of a fraction of her weight, and they take Alexis away in a police car.

• End abuse scene.

She spent the night in jail. She used the word "arrest", but she was never read any Miranda rights. The most generous reading of the police officer's actions was that he needed to separate both sides of the domestic violence for the safety of everyone involved, and the non-homeowner was the sensible choice to remove from the scene. I think in that case, though, the officer would have documented her injuries. Instead, he used the ride back as an opportunity to tell her about how she needed to respect and obey her parents, and to be thankful they gave her a place to live. I don't think she was ever charged with anything, but she did get a restraining order barring her from going near her parent's house for some duration.

"Every single relative on my dad's side of the family has been to jail. I was going to be the first -- now I'm not."

[Golden Applesauce]

I graduate, and get a job that pays very nearly median American family income in City W, four hours north of City Y. Bob transfers to University of Zeon, which is actually even closer to City Y than YU is. Alexis ends up back in her parents house. My dad and I bump into her at Johnson's, the store she works at, while shoe shopping; she's really excited to see me, and my dad comments on how energetic she is. Alexis breaks up with Clarence, and starts dating Bob, now that they both live full-time in the same city. I keep in touch with the two of them online, and we play network games together semi-regularly. Alexis mentions to me in private chat that she's thinking of having people call her Alex and going as a male.

Bob spends a semester studying abroad in Japan. Alexis calls him every morning to wake him up in time for classes, Japan time -- out of all of Bob's exchange student friends, they were the only couple who didn't break up over the trip. Alexis makes plans come north with Bob to visit me when he gets back in winter break, but that gets canceled as Bob understandably wishes to spend some time at home after being overseas. School picks up again.

Summer break 2013 comes around, and she's finally able to visit me. Mutual friend and Bob's former UX roommate, Dan, lives about 45 minutes northwest of me, so he comes too and we have a laid back party. We do it again the next weekend, and the weekend after that. Bob gets his food service managers to schedule him off two days in a row, and also comes to visit us. I had been wondering how Alexis had been able to make the 8 hour round trip every weekend, and it turned that she had secretly moved in to Dan's house and transferred to a nearby Johnson's location for the summer. The only people who knew were her, Bob, Dan, and now me.

To the nerd activity trifecta of video games, board games, and anime, we added massage. I had spontaneously generated arthritis in my hands after graduation, and when I told Alexis why I was wearing compression gloves, she gave me a hand massage. To my surprise worked a lot better than the painkiller I take everyday. She cracks my back and does my neck and shoulder massage next, and while I knew I had bad posture I had no idea just how much discomfort I was putting up with every day until she worked the knots out. It was magical. She learned because, in addition to her bad shoulders, she also has scoliosis and peripheral neuropathy, which manifests as episodes of disabling full-body pain. Massage helps her manage the constant pain. I get her to show me the basics, and reciprocate by doing the same massages for her. Alexis gushes gratitude; no one else has ever done this for her, except Bob who doesn't do it right or something. I'm not really sure how to react to that -- "You scratch my back, I scratch yours" is the definition of mutual assistance, not altruism.

Later that evening, a playful argument between Bob and Alexis escalates into a mock fight with tickling and wrestling. (Bob is extremely ticklish.) Eventually he gets the upper hand and establishes a headlock. Alexis starts laughing. Then she laughs harder. Between the hysterical laughter, she manages to get out the words "stop - stop - Stop!"

Bob lets her go. Alexis is angry and scared.

Alexis: "What is wrong with you? Did you forget?"
Bob: "I-- what-- I-- oh. Oh shit. I'm sorry Alexis. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Then they hug.

Me: "What just happened?"
Bob: "Alexis... doesn't like being touched on the neck."

• Warning: outline of a rape follows.

Alexis: "When he -- you know, Edward --"

I knew of Edward. Edward was Alexis's first ever boyfriend, who raped her in 2007 at her high school. A mutual UX friend had told me, but this was the first I'd heard of it from Alexis herself.

Alexis: "when he was -- when he did it, he held me down by back of my neck while he was doing it."

• End outline.

Me: "So you mean when I was massaging --"
Alexis: "No, no, that's different. I trust you. You and Bob are the only ones allowed to touch my neck. Just don't sneak up behind me or surprise me or push down on it or anything."
Bob: "She's a lot better than she used to be."
Alexis: "Yeah, it used to be really bad, no one could touch the back of my neck. Bob and Dr. Francis have been working to desensitize me. I practice with Bob a lot."

The hysterical laughter was a panic response. It had gotten her in trouble in the past, she said. I didn't ask for details.

The next week, now that I know she's in the area anyway, she comes over every day after work. Thursday night in particular, we stay up way later than I really should have on a work night. I sleep through my alarm clock, waking up somewhere between noon and one. At that point I figure I might as well take Friday off.

Alexis did make it to work that day. It's mid-July now, and she's getting ready to transfer back to City Y for the new school year. The problem is Johnson's -- despite giving them a written request to transfer back to her old City Y location over three weeks ago, they hadn't moved an inch on the necessary paperwork and were now saying she wouldn't be able to transfer until a week after school started. This fit with what I'd already heard about Johnson's management. She's a cashier, and the primary thing they're graded on at Johnson's is what percent of customers have or sign up for their loyalty card program. When the cashiers don't meet their quota, George the manager yells at them. When they do meet their quota, he does nothing. George gives Alexis special treatment; he likes to threaten to cut her hours. He was previously a manager at Best Buy, until they fired him for incompetence. Why Johnson's thought it was a good idea to hire him nobody knows.

Then, at 3:15, I get this text:
Alexis: So my asshole manager just decided it was a good idea to push down on the back of my neck and shake me around. O.O

To be continued as I write it down. Sorry for making a cheap cliffhanger out of tragedy.

[Lord Cataplanga]

Take your time, don't worry about cliffhangers.
This isn't something I could read in a single sitting, so I imagine writing it must take a lot of effort.

[LMNO]

Wow.  This is heavy stuff.

[Junkenstein]

Excellently written GA, looking forward to more.

[Golden Applesauce]

The text message conversation goes like this:
Me: Which Johnson's are you working at up here? The one at P address?
Alexis: No, it's in Q shopping center.
Alexis: Why?
I plug Q shopping center in Google Maps, and yep, there's a Johnson's.
Me: omw. ETA 4:30

My phone rings. It's my boss.

Harry: "Hi GA, this is Harry. We haven't heard from you at all. You okay?"
Me: "Oh, crap. Sorry, completely forgot to call. Something really crazy just came up -- family emergency. I should be back in by Monday?"
Harry: "Sure. Do what you have to do."

There was lots of construction on the only highway between my apartment and her work. Alexis had mentioned it earlier, but I foolishly trusted my GPS, whose map hasn't been updated in maybe five years. I'm pretty helpless without my GPS, but I probably would have been okay if there hadn't been three more surface roads also closed after the next closest highway exit. I stop somewhere around 4:30 to consult secondary maps, and see a half dozen texts from her on my phone. They're all along the lines of "What about your work?" "I don't want to bother you." "You don't need to do this for me.". I message back that I'd already taken the day off, had already left, gotten lost, and would hopefully be there in another hour.

Being lost cost me so much time that I didn't get close to Q shopping center until rush hour, which slowed me down even more. Traffic was jammed. There was even a police car stuck right behind me. I considered trying to hail him, but wasn't really sure how to go about doing so. Just lean out my window? We eventually come up to an entrance to Q shopping center parking lot. I turn in, and the police officer turns his lights on and follows me.

Well there's that taken care of.

I pull into the nearst parking space, turn off my car, and roll down the window. I had been especially careful not to break any traffic laws on my way over just in case the whole thing ended up in court. The officer informs me that my tags are expired.

Me, confused: "I just got them renewed in May -- they expired on my birthday, didn't they?"
Officer: "If your birthday's in June, they sure did."
Me: "Okay. I'm not against getting a ticket -- but can you help me with something first? My friend was just assaulted at her place of work. That's why I'm here, actually. She works at Johnsons, right over there."
Officer: "What were you going to do when you got there?"
Me: "Talk to her, and then take her to the nearest police station or something."
I am told that there is no such thing as a routine traffic stop. I'm one for two so far.

He takes my license (to complete the ticket later) and has me park in front of Johnsons, while he calls for back up. I text Alexis that I've arrived. I meet the police officer on the sidewalk in front Johnson's, and he starts asking me questions.

Officer: "So where is she right now?"
Me: "Still in Johnson's. I'm trying to contact her."
Officer: "She's still in there? Why didn't she leave?"
I try to explain to him - that she has a history of abuse, that she has low self esteem and doesn't put enough value on her own well being, that she needs this job, if she loses it then she doesn't finish college and has to go back to her abusive parents and if she does that she will certainly die. I don't think that I explained it very well. The second police officer arrives, and we go through the same thing again. I show them my text message history, in between attempts to call and text Alexis.

Finally, she comes out. She's leaning forward, shoulders hunched up, carrying a water bottle, and still shaking. When she sees the police officers, she freezes. There is fear written across her entire body. Not dread, or anxiety, or even panic, but fear. It's a terrifying emotion to witness: a humanity suspended, a moment of dumbness.

I remember the last time she interacted with the police and they treated her like scum. "No, no, it's okay! It's okay! They're with me! I had a traffic ticket!" I call out and rush to her.

Officer: "Is this her?"
Me: "Yes. Alexis, I showed them the text you sent. Are you alright?"
She is very clearly not all right.
Alexis: "N-no. No I'm not. Can you - can you hold my water bottle?"
I take the bottle. The water inside had been jumping madly. She crosses her arms and shifts her weight back and forth nervously. An improvement.
Officer: "Can you tell us what happened?"

Alexis explains: she was upset after talking with George and finding out that he'd done exactly zero to get her transfered back to City Y. She'd then gone to talk to her other, less assholish manager, Jake. As she was leaving his office, with her back turned, he put his hand on her neck and shook her.

Officer: "Was he angry? Was he trying to hurt you?"
Alexis: "I don't... think so. I think he was just trying to calm me down."
Officer: "When a person assaults another person, they mean to hurt that other person no two ways about it."
Alexis: "No, it wasn't like that."

The officers seem kind of nonplussed.
Me: "Alexis, can I tell them about your neck? About why that's important?"
She nods. I tell them.

Officer: "So... what would you like us to do?"
Alexis: "Could you just... could you just talk to him? I don't want to start anything... but I don't want him to do that ever again either."

One officer goes into the Johnson's to talk to Jake. I think this is when I finish getting my ticket. The officer comes back and tells Alexis that he talked to Jake, and told him that some people do not like to be touched and that's all there was too it. Alexis thanks them, and tells them that they're the first police officers she's ever met who "weren't assholes." They smile, and say that around here "we pride ourselves on not being assholes." Then they leave.

As soon as they're gone, Alexis collapses into me and starts crying. I do my best to hug her back. Her upper back and shoulders are stiff, solid knots. They were fairly loose the previous night. We spend the remaining twenty minutes of her break with me kneading her shoulders. I tell her she's perfectly justified taking the rest of the day off sick -- she is quite visibly a mess -- but she won't hear of it. We do agree to eat dinner together right after she gets off of work at one of the nearby restaurants. She wipes her tears off and heads back into work, holding together a little better.

To be continued as I write it down. We haven't even gotten into the weird stuff yet...

[LMNO]

Wow.  This is heavy stuff.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

It's uncomfortably close to misery porn for my tastes.

[Golden Applesauce]

I study some flashcards in my car while I wait for her shift to end. The phrase that keeps turning over in my head is: "Why didn't she leave?" Do police officers ask that about every victim? Alexis certainly couldn't have given a coherent answer herself. Did the police officers only take her seriously because a confident male was there to explain things to them? I don't like the implication that victims of crimes have to justify any sub-optimal decisions.

She gets out, and we go to a Japanese restaurant in the strip mall on the other side of the parking lot. We talk over yakisoba. After she had gotten back into Johnsons's, Harry called her into his office. The only other female employee, slightly more senior than Alexis, was also there as a witness. Harry is confused and wants to know what had just happened. "Why didn't you just come talk to me?" "Why was that such a big deal?" he asks. So Alexis tells him. Harry's response: "I didn't need to know that.", which also answers his first question.

This is also when Alexis first tells me about Alice, her alternate personality ("alter"). Alice is 16 years old, the age Alexandra was when she was raped. Alice is rude, sexually aggressive, calls everyone "Human", and drives recklessly. According to Alexis, Alice enjoys inflicting pain.

Alexis says that her DID was really bad when Bob was in Japan and she was stuck at her parent's house, but Alice hadn't been out since Bob had gotten back. Since Harry had touched her today, though, she could feel Alice in the back of her mind. She said she could feel Alice wanting to do something fantastic and violent to Harry, and Alexis was getting tired of "holding her back," as she put it.

Alexis asks me if I'm afraid of her at all, knowing about Alice.

My knowledge of DID was pretty slim; between Grant Morrison's Doom Patrol, Wikipedia, and my amazing psych 101 professor I only knew a handful of things:
1. DID has nothing to do with schizophrenia.
2. It is a defense mechanism, associated with long-term, inescapable trauma, especially as children. One rape might get you PTSD, but people with DID tend to be more thoroughly traumatized.
3. Memory, experience, and identity are compartmentalized per alter. This allows one alter to shield the others by handling unpleasant or traumatic experiences for the system, among other things.
4. Self harm can get complicated among the alters of a person with DID.
5. Even medical professionals use words like "dramatic" and "disturbing" to describe witnessing a new alter taking control.

Point #2 is the most important to me at the moment. When someone says they have DID, they're admitting to a seriously disturbed personal history. This was when I realized that her life with her parents was a lot more serious than I had first thought.

I tell her that of course I'm not scared.