That's the thing Martina...i wasn't scared once I realised he didn't have a clue who I was. I was quietly angry at that. It seemed inconcievable that someone could play with anyone so young, twist him, treat him like nothing and not remember who he was even as an adult.
So i was quietly angry, not scared anymore. And disgusted. It was hard to look him in the eyes, very hard. But necessary, which is why i did it: I hadn't done anything, HE had! And he had made me believe I was the guilty one, so there was no way on earth i was NOT going to do it, even though I don't quite know how i managed it. i just...... detached, observed from the outside so to speak while grabbing ahold of who i was and not allowing myself, the knowledge of who i was, to vanish. That detachment is a double edged sword, i learned to do it while being abused but it has come in handy at times lol.
What surprised me the most about well, ME was extending my hand. I thought I did it to be polite, but it just felt right. As it went out it hit me that I was making him an offer; he refused, too bad for his soul, mine did what it needed to do.
Still, it very much surprised me even as i did it...
I do remember one thing--after going home i took a long hot shower. It was as if i was washing him off of me. A guy like that leaves a sense of slime trailing after him.