Author's Note: I wanted to use 'art therapy' as the main way for Katherine to relay what has happened in her childhood. I'm a big emotional wreck, but I was crying a little when I wrote one of the therapy sessions - I guess because I have grown to love writing little Katherine.
Thank you to BuffyKrueger for making the picture for the story, much appreciated.
Also, to have an idea of how Katherine will look like as a teenage then in google type in True Lies and Eliza Dushku - there is a picture of her with a jean jacket on and she stares into the distance, she is the absolute double of little Katherine!
Thanks for the reviews so far!
Chapter 2: Healing
A large two storey white stone building was situated on the far north side of Central City, surrounded by pristine and well kept gardens. There was as a small car park across from the entrance to the building. It was renovated from an abandoned hospital into the care home in the early 1950s. A small wooden sign was at the entrance to the car park - the words in bright blue writing.
St Bernadette's Care Home.
Central City, Est. 1955.
Usually, the home would care up to the maximum of fifteen children at a time. Nearly, every several months children and the young teenagers would come and go. Either new arrivals ready to start their therapy after being set free from her their own 'personal' abusive homes, or there would be children all set to be released into either foster families or to be adopted. It was an endless cycle. The success rate in the care home was one of the highest in the county and most recently in the whole state of Ohio.
The ground floor of the care home was large and spacious, with two large games rooms for the children to play and congregate in during their free time. Those rooms were situated at the far end of the building. There were five Doctor's offices, three large therapy rooms and a small medical ward that was linked to an examination room. Only recently they had refurbished two of the vacant rooms into classrooms for the children. It was quite surprising that the children were eager to continue with their studies despite being treated for child abuse. Many of the doctors believed it was a good way of aiding their social development by progressing with their studies. The two remaining rooms on the ground floor was a large bright canteen and dining area.
On the fist floor the old side wards of the hospital were transformed into bedrooms, the majority of them held two to three single beds. But there were a few that only contained a single bed, suitable for those children who wanted to be on their own. There were two separate bathrooms for the girls and boys. To facilitate the staff who stayed over night two of the large offices were refurbished into staff bedrooms. A flexible rota was put in place to help the Doctors and Nurses balance their work and personal life.
The last year had been long. Katherine Krueger's transition into the Care Home had been more strenuous than Dr Danielle Murray had anticipated. For the first several weeks, perhaps a few months the girl had been in a constant state of confusion and terror. She would be in tears, sobbing uncontrollably for hours at a time. Anytime any of the staff would try and comfort her, the young timid girl would flinch and balk away from them. Afraid of any of them trying to console her. To her this wasn't her home.
At first she believed that she would never get used to being in this strange city. For days at a time she wouldn't leave her bedroom. The canteen staff were informed that they would have to bring her meals to her room for the foreseeable future, until her mannerisms began to change. It wasn't until the start of July 1973 that Katherine begrudgingly began to venture to the canteen where she was adamant that she wanted to be sat on her own. And she got her wish, sitting at one of the far tables on her own. Dr Murray had discussed with her fellow Child Psychologists that despite the girl's shyness and distancing herself from the other children, that they needed to give her time to adjust to her new life. That in time she would talk to them.
However, to her dismay, the girl's dismissive reactions didn't seem to falter. For months she would barely say a word to the doctors or anyone for that matter. Her therapist Dr Natalie Erikson had come to the conclusion that the child had developed 'selective mutism'. Dr Murray was inclined to agree with her, but she knew that Katherine was keeping quiet as she was unable to express what she was feeling, what her thoughts were. Also, there was this fear in her that she shouldn't talk to them.
It was an obstacle that they needed to overcome.
Another disturbing trait that Katherine had, was her lack of social interactions with the other children. All the doctors knew from the report from Dr Sandra Turner that the girl had trouble intermingling with other children. They had assumed that over time she would learn to socialise with them. However, they were wrong. Each time during the hours when the children were allowed into the games room, she would sit in the far corner of the room and looked out into the gardens. Anytime a boy or girl approached her to ask her to play in their games, she would shun their advances and leave the room. Just as in the Springwood Orphanage, her bedroom was just for her, another way she was isolating herself from the children. It was going to take her a long time to connect with the other children.
It was in mid-October that Dr Erikson had asked to have Katherine's case referred to another therapist. Believing that she had one has much as she possibly could for the child. Despite the countless therapy sessions they had and various methods of getting the girl to speak, she had failed to get any information out of the girl.
Dr Murray had decided there and then that she wanted to take over Katherine's case, she was going to try every therapeutic method she could think of to get the traumatised child to speak. The sooner she spoke out about her psychological and emotional abuse at the hands of her father, the better.
March 24th 1973...
Pages of notes were slowly flicked opened, each page being studied slowly by a set of bright blue eyes. It was Dr Murray's comments and deliberations on Katherine's progress. She didn't know how many times she would read through them. Each time there was nothing that stood out, no spark to push her onwards. It was a dead end. But she couldn't stop, she had to do something for the poor child. She didn't want to fail her.
The last month or so she had tried to get the girl to write down some of her feelings in a journal, attempting to try out 'journal therapy' to aid the girl in processing her thoughts, to write them down. But alas to her dismay the pages in the journal were empty each time the girl brought it with her to her sessions.
The only positive aspect over the last few months was that Katherine was a little more vocal when she was talked to. It wasn't a full conversation, just a simple 'yes' or 'thank you' whenever she was asked if she wanted to go outside to the gardens or if she wanted to go the games room. The girl could talk, it was apparent. Even one or two of the nurses had heard the girl chat away to herself during the night, as though she was making up little scenes in her mind with her doll that she had kept with her. The only problem was getting the girl to talk in her therapy sessions. And she was hoping that 'art therapy' would assist her in doing so. She was going to suggest it to her.
An unsettling revelation came from one of the female nurses only a few weeks before. That Katherine had calmly asked if her father was coming to see her, or if she could speak to him over the phone. It was evident that even a year later, she wanted to be with him. In some disconcerting way his hold on her was still strong.
Her hands closed the notes and she pulled over another file, her face tightened with sadness at the second name on the front page
Patient: Katherine Ann Krueger.
Referred by: Sister Mary Helena.
It had been over a year now since the Sister had passed away. Her body was found in her bedroom, having suffered a heart attack. To her fellow Sisters it was quite sudden, as she was in quite good health. Never smoked or drink. She had wanted to go to the funeral, but with work commitment she was unable to do so.
Her head jerked up at the soft knock at the door. She glanced at her watch on her left wrist, the time reading 11am. It was Katherine's therapy session. "Come in"
The door was slowly pushed opened and in entered her patient. Eleven year old Katherine Krueger. Long brown hair now draped over her slim shoulders, her fringe had now grown out and was parted to the right, pinned back by a single brown clip. Her height now stood at 5'2 inches, with her brown eyes now vacant and desolate. They were lowered to the ground as she entered, and in her hands was her Crissy Doll. A constant companion to her therapy sessions. Even at night time she would hold it close to her when she went to sleep, to her it reminded her of her father. A memento of sorts.
"Thank you Pauline" Dr Murray smiled up at the nurse who had brought her to the room. She looked back to Katherine as she settled into her seat facing her, her right hand absently gripping and twisting her red flowered shirt.
Once the door was closed Katherine looked up nervously up at her therapist. How many times was she going to be asking the same questions? It had been nearly a year and she hadn't spoken a word, did they not realise that she wasn't going to talk to them?
"Hi, Katherine. How are we this morning?" she was asked.
The girl shrugged.
She noticed that the girl looked a little tired. "The nurses have said that over the last few nights you've been staying awake in your room. Are you having some trouble sleeping?"
Katherine's body tensed ever so slightly and she nodded grimly. It wasn't that she couldn't sleep, it was just that she DIDN'T want to. The last week or so she had been suffering from strange dreams, distorted and blurred images. Distant sounds. She vaguely remembered what she saw. A water tower. The bright sun. Rose-beds. The startling sound of someone choking. Groans of pain. The sound of a snarl. They were all muddled and disjointed, she didn't want to know what they meant. That was why she was staying awake at night.
"Can you not sleep or you not want to?" her therapist asked quietly. Her sleeping patterns could signify something. "Are you having bad dreams?"
Her nose scrunched up slightly as she sniffled and she nodded quickly, "Y-yes. I've been having bad dreams"
Her heart pounded in her ears. Was she finally starting to get somewhere? "Do you remember your dreams? Do you know what it is?"
Her head shook in discord, she was at a lost as to what these images and sounds meant. It was all jumbled up imagery in her head. She couldn't make any sense of it.
"Okay" there was a small reassuring smile, "Remember I gave you a journal to write in? Well, I don't think it's working. But I want to try something else, okay?"
There was a small nod.
"Do you like art?" she saw the girl's head lift to face her. "Do you like to draw?"
"Yes" a small smile crept across her face.
"Good!" at last something that Katherine liked. Hopefully, 'art therapy' would help her on the road to recovery. "What about I get you a few sketch pads and colouring in pencils? Then you can draw whatever you like in them. If there is anything you can think of that you want to tell me, then you can draw it. Then in our sessions we can talk about it. Does that sound okay to you?"
"Okay"
Another grin. Then her voice went stern, concern gracing her features. "Do you want something to help you sleep? A light sedative?"
Her head went from side to side. She didn't want to sleep, not tonight. The sound of that choking was frightening her.
"Okay, Katherine. Please try and get some sleep tonight. How about I get one of the nurses to take out to the gardens for an hour before lunch? Some fresh air will do you some good"
The timid girl nodded quickly. There was one aspect of this Care Home that she like and that was the gardens, the small gravel paths and various flower beds and the small picnic benches. She enjoyed sitting outside and basking in the sun.
DR Murray smiled warmly, feeling more relieved that she had at last something to write down in Katherine file. Whatever bad dreams she had been suffering from was more than likely linked to her abuse and if the girl started to draw in those sketch books, then she would finally be able to discover something about her traumatic childhood.
x x x
May 27th1973
For the last several weeks had been certainly interesting for Dr Murray. During each week she was given drawings from Katherine's sketch books. Her patient wasn't elaborating on what the images meant. But it was a start. The images were neatly drawn. A large white water tower one session, the next session she would been given a picture of a rose-beds. Then next a white fence. Then a picture could combine the three images. As though Katherine was constructing a drawing, little by little. It was a jig-saw she was creating, and each drawing was the piece she was putting together. Just what would the final picture be of?
It was clear from her therapy sessions that Katherine was dreaming these images. Perhaps it was a memory from her childhood? Something that she had long forgotten and that was slowly coming back to her through her dreams? A memory? But from how long ago? A few years ago? Longer?
Lifting her face from her notes she smiled warmly as Katherine sat in front of her. The little girl looked exhausted, there were bags underneath her eyes. Her face looked incredibly pale. Again her doll was on her lap along with her sketch book. Just what had she drawn for her today?
Katherine chewed her bottom lip with dread as her mind thought back to her dream from the previous night. Now, she knew what she was dreaming. A dark, perturbing memory she had thought she had put behind her. It was that day in the garden. Should she tell Dr Murray about it? The doctor was bound to know that the drawings were something to do with her past and she would ask her about it.
"Morning Katherine"
She looked down at a small blue folder and flicked it opened, to lift out a few pictures. Her hand curled around the most recent drawing that Katherine had given to her a few days before. It was very precise and neat. Detailed by various colours. A white water tower stood behind a white fence. A large yellow sun was at the top right hand corner of the page. Tucked to the front left of the drawing was a small rose bed filled with red and pink roses. There was a girl dressed in a pink dress, dark blondish hair tied back in pigtails. Next to her was a man in brown trousers and green shirt, with sandy hair. The finally figure was a woman with brown bobbed hair and adorning her frame was a flowered dress. Each of their facial features were detailed and distinct. It looked so innocent, a normal family picture. Dr Murray showed it to the girl in front of her, "This is your family? Yes? This is you and your parents?"
"Yes" she licked her lips swiftly. "That's me, my daddy and mommy"
"Are you remembering this in your dream?"
"Yes" her hands shook as she looked down to the sketch book and opened it. Her fingers trembled as she tore out a page. As she handed it over to her, her free hand absently began to take hold of her doll's neck and squeezed. Why could she not get that memory out of her head? That terrible sound of her mother being choked to death, the grunts and sneers of her father as he murdered her mother, continued to ring loudly in her ears.
Dr Murray gawked down in shock at the new picture that was given to her. It looked exactly the same as the last one, but there was one major difference and it was extremely distressing. The figure of the woman was laying on her back with the man, Katherine's father, crouched over her with his hands curled around her neck. He was strangling her. "My god…" her voice came out in a whisper and she looked over to the young girl. "Is this what you're dreaming about? You're remembering this?"
She nodded vehemently and sobbed. "T-the g-garden!"
"What sweetheart?"
"The back g-garden" there was a agonised whimper. "That's where it happened"
Her eyes darted back to the drawing and her stomach knotted in revulsion. This was where the abuse started. It was the start of the emotional abuse, the psychological manipulation. At last she could start to heal. Rising to her feet she walked around towards the girl and gulped as she saw that her hands were wrapped around the doll's neck. She reached down to pry it from her grasp and hushed her, "It's okay"
"My m-mommy!" she wailed. There was no way she could keep this inside for much longer. The dreams were going to continue if she didn't tell someone. They would stop the dreams, wouldn't they? Dr Murray would help her make the pain stop. "My daddy killed my mommy!"
Dr Murray leaned up closer to the girl and took her into a warm embrace. The traumatised girl buried her head against the woman's shoulder. Tears dampened the woman's navy jacket. Katherine's shoulders heaved up and down as she sobbed violently. Why could she not stop thinking about it? It was plaguing her nightmares for the last few nights. Her father stooping over her mother, his strong arms crushing her mother's neck. The ghastly sounds of her mother taking her last breath. How he crudely threw her body to the ground like she was nothing but a piece of trash. The cool smile he gave her as he sauntered over to her as she shivered and wept before him. The way he soothingly tried to explain what he had done, how he wanted her to keep it a secret. Then later that evening she remembered their little talk, how they make those pinkie promises.
From that moment on her world was torn into two.
It was never the same again.
"H-he choked her…my daddy killed my mommy!" her voice was half muffled from speaking against her shoulder. Her head lifted slightly to stare at her therapist despondently. "I was s-so scared! He told me it was our secret, so I never told anyone. He made me promise!"
She stared into big brown frightened eyes. The girl was petrified. "It's okay, Katherine. You're going be fine" there was a pause as the young girl sobbed once more, "Just you cry all you like, let it all out. Crying will help you. I'm going to help you get better, I promise!"
Her hands drew the young girl close to her body and her right hand ran through the girl's long locks. It was evident that she had forgotten about this horrible experience and now that it was coming back to haunt her in her dreams, she was so confused as to what to make of it all. There was anger buried deep down inside of her, at what her father did to her mother. It would take some time for to process these emotions and feelings.
But today was the start of the healing process.
x x x
14th September 1973.
At long last the 'art therapy' technique was the best viable way to help in assisting with Katherine's healing. The following weeks after showing Dr Murray the picture of her mother's death, she had explained in vivid detail what exactly happened. It all came flooding back to her. It was just a normal Sunday afternoon, warm and sunny. Her and her father were playing 'tag', she felt so happy, so carefree. She remembered her mother going down into the basement and then a few minutes later she heard her screams as she staggered out of the basement. She looked as though she had seen a ghost her face was that white. Her screams sent shivers up her spine.
Then next the cool and collected tone in her father's voice as he told her to inside and just like the obedient child, she did what her told her to do. The momentary glance she took inside his room, seeing those twisted and crude gloves, the pictures of children and those jars filled with blood and organs. From outside she could hear the sound of grunts, groans of pain. The curious side of her took over and she went back outside and that was when her world came crashing down around her. The image of her father had changed from that day on. Her voice screamed for her mother, and her body quivered in terror as he dropped her mother's lifeless corpse to the ground.
His words were still as loud and clear from that day.
'Don't worry baby, daddy was just giving mommy her medicine for snooping in daddy's special work. But you won't tell, will you?'
And she kept her word. Kept that vile, dark secret for so long. Made those twisted 'pinkie promise's' earlier that evening. She elucidated how he taught her to lie, not just to her teacher, but to anyone who had asked about her mother. She had to behave for him, he had told her that he was the only person she had left. The only one she could rely on.
Through other therapy sessions she described how he would coldly tell her that all bad children were given their medicine and she had to be good for him, to do everything that he told her to do. And just like the submissive girl she was slowly being transformed into, she did everything for him. He was started to assert his control over her and she hadn't a notion.
The last few weeks of her sessions she was asked to express her thoughts over what happened for the year or so after her mother's death. It was only now since talking to Dr Murray about what had happened, did it finally dawn on her that he was controlling her, subduing her. There was anger, but perhaps uncertainty as to why he would do that to her? Even though he did control her, she still cared for him. She had tried to put across that her father was good to her, cared for her, didn't treat her with contempt or harm her in any physical way.
She couldn't hate him.
Or would she start to have these feelings of scorn for him?
29th April 1974...
The last year had been extremely gratifying for Dr Murray, she would definitely have to start using 'art therapy' in more of her sessions with her patients. It had brought Katherine on leap and bounds over the last year. For the last few months she had discerned through Katherine's drawings more of the control and manipulation her father had done to her. How he was restricting her social development. A few of the drawings had caused some concern for Dr Murray, namely drawings of the girl being dressed by him. At first she believed that it was suggestion by the girl that her father had done something inappropriate to her. She tired to allay this to her, but the girl had shook her head in discord and explained that it was a picture showing how her father would continually pick out her attire and unremittingly undress and dress her.
There were a few other times she would point out that her father had a set schedule for her, picking out what times she would go to bed, when she would eat. At what times she was allowed to play outside in the garden or in the street. Teaching her how to do household chores, at first simple tasks - wash the dishes, set the table, then onto a little more strenuous tasks for a six year old. Doing the laundry, vacuuming.
Noting this down in her report, it was clear to her that Katherine's father was controlling her more than just her appearance. But basically her home life, her routine. Throughout their sessions she would convey her findings to the girl and she knew instantly form the look on the girls face that it was dawning on her that her father had controlled her from such an early age.
And she was oblivious to this.
Dr Murray took off her glasses and set them on her desk, then looked over to her patient. To her relief over the last few months she looked in a far better shape, health wise and slowly but surely, mentally too. Her hair was tied back in a tight plait, her weight having increased to a size six and her usually dull brown eyes were now bright and exuberant. Her posture was straight, her hands clasped on top of her jean covered knees. She waited patiently for her therapist to start their session.
"Katherine, what does this mean?" she held up one of the new drawings.
Katherine peered over at the drawing and sighed. It was the last picture she drew two nights before. A blond haired boy on a bike had his two arms pushed forward, pressed against the back of a girl with light brown hair in a cream dress. Splattered on her knees was a red blob, seemingly signifying blood. "That's Billy" she pointed at the boy.
"And who is this? Is this you?"
"Yes Dr Murray"
She set down the picture, "Was Billy your friend?"
Her mouth went agape in horror at this question. "Oh, no. He wasn't my friend. I didn't have any friends"
"Okay, why is he pushing you in the picture? Did this happen?"
"Yes" her stare was stern. "He bullied me. He pushed me and I hurt my knee"
"What happened after this?" she was afraid of the answer.
"I told my daddy straight away" for the slightest second her eyes went cold with hatred, a memory flashing before her. "I said that Billy had to take his medicine for being bad"
"Medicine?" she pondered for a moment and then reached over for three folders, and flicked one opened and read through the notes until she saw the paragraph she was looking for. "You said in one of your earlier sessions that your father he gave your mother her medicine for being bad and sneaking in his special work, and that he said to you that all children who were bad needed their medicine. You remembered this when Billy bullied you? You still remembered what he told you?"
"Yes" there was a curt nod. "I remember everything that my daddy told me. I was angry at Billy for what he did to me. My daddy took his away, he took care of him"
This young boy Billy had to be one of her father's victims. She should probably read up more on his crimes as she had this inkling that Katherine was shown her father's work, and if so then he could have been trying to twist her mind to be like his. If she could get the girl to comprehend that her father's 'special work' wasn't as special as he said it was. That it was heinous, violent and immoral. "Did you know that your father killed him?"
"Yes, he told me. He made me watch the news"
"Mmm, how did you feel when you were watching the news? When you realised that Billy was dead?"
Her lips furrowed into a frown. What did she feel? Anxiety? Fear? Confusion? Maybe a little relieved that Billy was no longer about to hurt her, to bully her? Could she had been happy that her father had taken him away? An involuntary shiver shot up her spine. "I'm not sure, I was a little scared. I mean, I was a little nervous that my daddy could do that. That he would do something like that to protect me"
"Did you understand at the time that what your father did was wrong?" she asked.
She threw her perplexed look. "B-but it was his special work, he was just looking after me!"
Dr Murray grabbed a pen and note down a few sentences in her notepad. It was obvious that Katherine needed to start with the 'cognitive behavioural therapy' to help her deal with her confusing emotions and thoughts. The quicker that she grew to accept that her father wasn't doing any special work and that he was nothing but a fiend who was infatuated with killing, then it would help her understand that he was distorting her mind even more so than she already knew.
"What happened after Billy? There are pictures here of you by yourself?" she lifted the next picture, "One of your in the park on your own. Then one in the street by yourself. What do these pictures mean?"
"It shows me playing on my own"
"On your own?"
"Yes" she continued, "I wanted to play with myself. I enjoyed playing on my own"
"Why?" her voice was tight with worry. Her hand lifted her pen, poised to write down any notes that she thought were important.
"Because all the children were bad" the girl held her pensive gaze. "All my friends were going to use me and hurt me. It was safer for me to play on my own. My daddy said so"
She scribbled this down on her pad and then looked up to her, "When did he say this to you? How old were you?"
"I was seven years old, we were at the park. He sat me on the bench and explained that all the children were pretending, they were all fake! They were going to grow up to be bullies! That it was in my own best interests if I stopped playing with them"
"And you believed him?" this was unbelievable, how fucked up was he to tell her that?
"Yes, I did" she nodded curtly. "But I saw it too, I saw how nasty they were. I saw them in the park, how they would be very rough when they played. How the girls would be nasty and fight with each other. There were these two girls, Lisa and Karen. They always fought with each other"
Her therapist noted this down and then listened as the girl sustained. "That's why I kept away from them, it was for my own protection. I never played with Lucy anymore, she was my best friend. But she was really cheeky! Saying cruel things about my daddy, saying he was weird and creepy! But he wasn't" she shook her head in discord, "From that day in the park I didn't play with anyone in the park, on my street or at school"
This was quite overwhelming. Her mind was being twisted to think that isolation was a way of protecting herself. How fucking vicious was her father? "You thought that distancing yourself from the other children was good for you? For your wellbeing?
"Yes"
"But do you not realise now Katherine, that it wasn't! It was harmful to your social development!" she chewed her lip for a moment, "Do you believe that you have no self esteem now? That because of what your father has said to you that you are still afraid of the other children? I notice that you are still not interacting with them as much as I would like you to. You hardly talk to them"
"I know I have no confidence. I sometimes hate being around them, the other children in the Care Home. But I don't want to feel this way! I really don't!" she was being honest. A few times she had seen one or two of the other kids inviting a few of the other shy girls to participate in their games. They were friendly, kind and generous. She wanted desperately to go and engage in their games, to play with them. But as always there was this pang of doubt, of anxiousness. She wanted this uncertainty to disappear. As Dr Murray said to her once, how could she continue to live her life this like? How was she ever going to move on?
"Listen, I am going to arrange a rota with Dr Tara Kingsley, she is a Cognitive Behavioural Therapist. I would like her to take you in some sessions for the next three months, see if you can understand or come to terms with any feelings or emotions you have. She is also is very good at helping children socialise with other children and that is what you need. Some encouragement. At first it will be one to one sessions and then in time there will be group therapy" she gave her a reassuring smile, "In the long run it will be beneficial to you. Especially when you move out of the Care Home and into your foster family"
Her jaw dropped in horror, "F-foster family? But I don't want to leave here, I'm starting to like it here1 I feel safe here!"
"Katherine, one day you will have to leave. You can't stay here forever. You need to be integrated back into society. A foster home is the best place for you"
She wiped away at a stray tear. "But I d-don't want to change my name!"
"You don't have to if you won't want to"
There came a small nod from her.
"I'm really pleased with your progress over the last year" she smiled proudly. "But I want you to start expressing to me more about your thoughts in regards to how your father manipulated you"
"Manipulated? B-but…"
"Katherine" she was interrupted, "He has manipulated you. Controlled you since an early age. You have mentioned it you me in the sessions over the last year. You need to acknowledge what he did to you was wrong. It's another step in your healing. In some sick way he destroyed your childhood. That is the truth"
Her head instantly lowered to stare at her knees and she sniffled as a few tears dribble down her flushed face. Maybe Dr Murray was right, she was dominated and controlled by him. He asserted control over her childhood. And she foolishly believed every word he told her.
Now, she felt what?
Anger?
Was this directed towards him for doing that to her or maybe it was rage at herself for being tricked by him? But she was only five years of age at the time, when the abuse started. It was only now that she came to recognise that it was abuse.
Psychological and emotional abuse.
"Here is another sketch book" an empty book was handed over to her, "As usual, any memories of images you can thikn of just draw it and we can discuss it at your next session. I'll contact Dr Kingsley to set up your therapy meeting with her"
She gave a small smile and took the book off of her.
"Katherine, remember last month I talked to you about puberty?"
"Yes"
"Will you let me know if there are any questions you have about it? Would you also let me or one of the female nurses know if you have started your menstrual cycle? I know for some girls, it may be a bit scary and you may get some bad stomach cramps. So, if you need any mild pain killers let me know"
"Yes, thanks"
Thirty minutes later…
Katherine hurried into her bedroom, feeing a little more at ease that her therapy for today was over. Each time she had a meeting with Dr Murray she felt as though she was getting better, like she was changing more and more into a new person. Someone that she was looking forward to be. Not that shy, withdrawn and submissive girl from her childhood. But someone who was going to have a purpose, becoming closer to the girl she wanted to be. What would that hopefully be?
Determined?
Confident?
Independent?
Perhaps all them of these traits. It was something that she wanted to aim for.
It was her goal.
She closed her bedroom door and looked at her room. It was quite plain, with her single bed to her left against the wall in the middle of the room. Dotted on the walls were a few decorative paintings, a large rectangular window overlooked the vast gardens that stretched out for at least two hundred yards. It consisted of several large rose and flower beds, a few grassy fields, gravel paths that meandered through the garden and several picnic benches.
Averting her gaze from the window she walked over to her pinewood wardrobe and stood before the mirror attached to the right door. Her slender hands gripped the edge of her navy blouse and trailed it over head. It fluttered to the floor as her disappointed gaze fell upon her stomach. The white scars visible for all to see. They looked revolting, she looked absolutely vile. Now, she was the freak!
Maybe this was something that she should discuss with Dr Murray or Dr Kingsley?
They knew she had them, but she had yet to talk to them about how she got them.
Her brown eyes slowly roamed up towards her small white sports bra that concealed her small developing breasts. What size were they when Dr Murray measured them the other week? An 'A' cup? Well, this was at the moment. They were going to grow. She was going to change even more over the next year or two. Just recently over the last month or so she had these feelings, her hormones were in full flight. Even when she glanced at one or two of the boys who were a year older than here she would get this butterflies in her stomach. It was all apart of these changes, a part of puberty wasn't it? Dr Murray had said that she would have 'crushes' on boys, that she would feel attracted to them in the next several months.
It was a feeling that she DIDN'T want to have. It was wrong, it went against her father's wishes. Even though he wasn't here, she felt as though she would be betraying him and also she didn't want to be used if she ever got close to a boy.
A few times it had crossed her mind, would her father ever have told her about this? About her raging hormones, about the changes her body was giong through? Would he still be 'playing' with her in his bedroom while she was going through all these changes? Just maybe that was why he wanted to wait a few years before he would have…what was it called?
Sex.
Yeah, he had wanted to wait a few years before having sex with her. Was it because of this feelings that she would have, these rampant hormones that were going to overpower her? That he wanted to see her body start to change, see her breasts starting to grow like this?
Perhaps she would never know. As there was still no contact from him. It had been over two years.. Maybe he had forgotten about her.
But for some disturbing reason she hadn't forgotten about him.
x x x
28 October 1974.…
More pictures were drawn and more revelations were brought out into the open. The most disturbing picture yet that she had drawn and shown to Dr Murray was the meticulous drawing of her father's special room. She even had drawn several illustrations of his bladed, hooked and spiked claws. She had briefly told her about the scrapbooks about his 'special work' of the bad piggies. When Dr Murray had questioned why the victims were called such a name, she informed her that she saw her father as a 'wolf' and the children were the 'piglets or piggies'. It was disturbing to hear how her father had sinisterly explained how he was doing all of the killing to protect her. That he was trying to justify himself to her. When Katherine had told her that at the time she believed what he told her, she felt her heart drop into her stomach.
How could this monster of a man warp his daughter's head so much to get her to believe that what he was doing was right? It also chilled her to the core that Katherine had picked out a number of his victims for him, making her an accessory to murder in some macabre way? How could a nine year old girl get over that?
The young girl also described how she played a part in two more children's deaths - Lucy and Melanie - having begged her father once more to take them away, after their little bullying display in school. Yet again he took them away, gave them their medicine and conceitedly tried to show the photos of her corpses to her. Wanting her to see what he had done to them. She didn't feel remorse at the time, did that make her as perturbed as him? However, there was one thing that she despised was how he tired to get her to look at the dead children's cadavers. She just didn't have the stomach for it.
It was only over the last few weeks that she was starting to fully understand how manipulative and controlling he was. During her sessions with Dr Kingsley she discovered and knew now that he had warped her mind to think that killing the children was the right thing to do. When in fact it wasn't, he was trying to keep her quiet. She knew now that he was a cold heartless murderer and that he was fanatical with killing. And that he was never going to stop.
The last few pictures also had shown the extent of his control and illustrated how he saw his daughter as a possession. The sketches were again detailed with a figure of her standing or sitting in places like the back yard, her bedroom, the TV room and he would be hidden behind the doorframe with his camera in hand. Taking secret pictures of her as she played with her toys or watched TV. Dr Murray grimly explained that her father was spying on her and that it was a very obsessive trait he was showing. Katherine had explained that at first she enjoyed the attention he was giving her, but as the months went on he was becoming more clingy. Taking more pictures of her even in the park while they sat together. Constantly making sure that she saw near him when they visited the park, following her every movement whenever he allowed her to play in the playground. She had even drawn a few illustrations to show this.
It was elucidated to her by Dr Murray that by this stage in her childhood that his love for her wasn't normal, it was now an obsession and damaging. In short it was disrupting her social development. And he knew it. It was all part of his elaborate plan to control her, and he had been doing this from an early age. From the very day he murdered her mother.
Now, she knew that her therapists were right. How could she not see it? He had blinded her, distorted her mind so much. And now she hated him for doing that to her.
But now she slowly starting to become her own person.
She didn't belong to anyone now.
February 1st 1975...
Katherine's hands shook as she sketched away a new drawing on her bed. Her hair was tied back in a tight pigtail, long gone were the days when she tied her hair back in two red ribbons. How long had it been now since she styled her hair that way? Perhaps September time? It just didn't suit her anymore, she wasn't a little girl. Her body was blooming and she was nearly a teenager.
Her eyes narrowed in dismay and slight repulsion at the sketch she had made. It sickened her to her stomach. She was about nine years old, laying flat on her back with her night dress scrunched up around her chest and her pants were rolled down at her ankles. The lean figure of her father in his red and green sweater was leaning over her lower torso, and his fingers were at the apex of her thighs. Inside of her, touching and fondling her. She let out a loud sob of distaste and then the tip of her pencil scribbled out the picture in rage. How could she show this to Dr Murray? Why should she? They would only think of her as a dirty whore, wouldn't they? Just some little girl who wanted to be used like that?
Back then she let him do those crude acts on her because she loved him and would have doen anything to keep him happy. To be good for him. However now, whenever she thought of those nights in his room she would want to be sick. When he would touch and kiss her down there, and the times he made her touch and kiss him. She really did feel like a cheap whore! How could she explain that to them?
There was no doubt in her mind, that it was one secret that she wasn't going to tell her therapists. Anyway, it was over now? Wasn't it? She had promised herself that she would keep her distance from the boys, she didn't need them.
It wasn't going to effect her life now, was it? She wasn't going to be developing any feelings towards any boy would she? And who in their right mind would be attracted to her?
She was tainted.
2nd March 1975 3pm…
"Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Katherine
Happy birthday to you!"
A round of applause erupted from the middle table in the canteen. Katherine sat in the middle of the crowd, with several children all sat around her. Most of them were the ages of eleven of twelve years of age. Three boys and four girls. All of them were patients and two of them were now her friends. In the centre of the table was a large chocolate cake with two candles in the middle - the numbers '1' and '3'. It was an important milestone in the young girl's life. Her 13th birthday.
Her cheeks went a rosy red as she blushed, the applause subsiding. She glanced at them quickly and smiled. Only a year ago she wouldn't have dared sat amongst these kids, but now she felt at ease around them and it was all thanks to Dr Kingsley and her therapy sessions. Particularly the group sessions. It took her sometime, but after a few months she was more at ease around them and had made friends out of the two girls. Tracey and Becky. They were only a few months younger than her.
The only thing that distressed her was being around new people, as each time a new girl or boy arrived at the home it would have take her at least a few weeks to get used to being in their company. Though the biggest test for her was when she was set free from the Care Home into her new foster family and being out in public and within larger crowds. Even the thought of school scared her. Was she ready to leave this place?
"Come on Katherine!" a blond haired girl chirped to her right, "Blow out your candles, you have to make a wish!"
She grinned at the owner of the voice, Tracey. Her head swung back towards the cake and she closed her eyes and concentrated on what to wish for. It was quite simple really. All she wanted was to be happy, to live a normal, carefree life. It may not be much to some people. But to her it was everything that she longed for over the last few years. With a deep breath she blew out the candles and beamed once more as another small round of applause broke out.
She saw a member of the canteen staff approach the table with a knife ready to cut the cake into pieces. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw Dr Murray approach from the entrance to the room, "Katherine, may I have a quick word with you?"
She nodded once and rose to her feet, and then glanced at the crowd at the table. "Don't forget to leave me a slice!"
Spinning back towards the doorway she hurried after Dr Murray and walked with her, "I have some news for you"
"News?" Katherine grew anxious. Her hands began to take up their old habit and twist and tug at her long sleeved cream shirt, "What kind of news?"
"A suitable foster home has been found for you" she smiled at her.
"F-foster home?" there was hesitancy in her voice. "But I'm not ready!"
Her hands were caught and she was given a gently squeeze. "Yes, you are. Look how far you've come over the last two years. You've been doing brilliant in your therapy sessions!" she gave a warm smile, "You've finally realised that your father was abusing you. You've been honest with yourself and you've told us everything!"
"Yes" she had told them her darkest fears. Her most disturbing memories. The death of her mother, how her father warped her fragile young mind. How he made her distance herself from her friends and class mates. The times he threatened her, the 'talk' in his secret room. The disgusting scars he made on her stomach and what occurred at the Orphanage, how he killed those officers and Ms Davis. The night at the boiler room and how she felt so angry at being taken away from him once more. The only secret she failed to disclose was all the times they spent in his bedroom. It was a secret she didn't want to tell, not now.
Not ever.
"Katherine, look how you are with the other children?" Dr Murray commented, "I've seen you in the gardens how you would sit and chat with them, how content you are now in their company! Dr Kingsley says that you're ready to go back into society. You have to believe in yourself!
There was still doubt lingering in her mind. "I can't! Can I not stay here? I like it here! I've friends here, there is Tracey and Becky! I don't want to leave here!"
She squeezed the girl's shaking hands again, "But they're going to be leaving the Care Home too. No one stays here forever. You know that. Children come and go here"
Her breath started to become short, but she tried her best to regulate her breathing. "I won't be able to cop! It means I have to start getting used to people all over again!"
"We can arrange for more therapy sessions, you can come here once a week for them or we can go out and visit you. We can help you readjust!"
Wide brown eyes stared solemnly at her, "Please! I want to stay here!"
The woman pulled her to the side and rubbed her shoulders tenderly, "Diane Burroughs won't be arriving here for at least another week. We can talk more between now and then. I promise you it's for the best!"
A flash of anger flickered over her face. "I'm being abandoned again, aren't I? Just like my father abandoned me, now you're throwing me away! You don't want me, do you?" her teeth grinded together. "No one wants me because I'm damaged! It's going to be the same when I'm in my foster home, after a while she will realise how broken I am and I'll be sent back here. That's what is going to happen to me!"
"No, that's not the case at all. Listen-"
Her arms were roughly shoved off the girl's shoulders, "NO!"
"Katherine!" she called after the girl.
But her calls went unanswered and she watched as the teenager ran from her. Towards the stairs that led to the floor. Katherine's body was overwhelmed with tears as she entered her bedroom. How could they do this to her? Toss her away like this? No one wanted her, did they? Why would they? She was tainted, damaged. He had made her this way. She knew that this woman, Diane Burroughs, would do the same. Get rid of her whenever she found out about her past. She couldn't bare being deserted again
She didn't want to be alone.
Her tear streamed face lifted towards the mirror facing her and with a small sob she walked towards her and with the back of her elbow smashed it to pieces. Shards of broken glass shattered to the ground and she bent down to pick up a long thin piece. The tip was pointed, sharp. Holding it in her right hand she grimaced in anger. If no one wanted her, what was the point of it all? What the point of being here? Maybe it was for the best if she was gone, no one would miss her would they?
She brought the tip of the glass to her flesh, perhaps one or two inches above her wrist and cut into her skin. A pool of blood began to seep from her torn flesh. Then with a hiss she dragged it down, closer to her veins and arteries.
"Katherine DON'T!"
Her head snapped to the doorway as Dr Murray rushed in, "No one want me. You don't want me!" her eyes fell back to the task at hand and she saw that her movements had stilled. She just couldn't do it.
She felt a pair of warm hands curl around her right arm and pull the glass from shard of broken mirror away from her wrist. "You're just confused sweetheart. Listen, we can talk about this later this evening"
"I don't' want to be alone anymore!" she cried, "I don't want to be afraid anymore, I just want to be normal. Like everyone else!"
Her legs buckled beneath her and she was gently laid onto her knees. Dr Murray sat with her on the cold floor and embraced her. "It's okay, you're not alone. You'll never be alone! I'll make sure that you're looked after, Ms Burroughs will make sure of that too!"
Katherine gripped the woman's shirt and snivelled softly, "I miss him. Does that make me messed up in the head?" her eyes darted up towards her, "That I miss my daddy?"
She was taken back her the girl's surprise admission. "No, it doesn't make you messed up at all. From what you've told me you said that he was a good father to you, that before it all happened he was really kind, gentle. You probably miss him because of he was so good to you. You missed the good side of your father. The human side of him, before he became twisted and controlling" her fingertips tenderly stroked the girl's crying face as she sternly affirmed "But you have to remember what he did to you. He manipulated you, took away your childhood. He can't hurt you anymore. Not everyone will be like him, you will see that people are kind, loving, gentle. There are good people out there. Just like Ms Burroughs"
There was a sombre nod. Her body still shook, not with sadness of fear. But she was being consumed in anger, hatred. These emotions were directed at her father for what he did to her throughout her childhood, for what he did to her mother. She had thought that talking with Dr Kingsley over the last several months about her feelings and thoughts that this resentment would dissipate. But it was still there, embedded in her mind. It would probably never disappear.
"May I have talk with Ms Burroughs? I mean, before I leave the Care Home? I want to see what's she's like!"
"Yes" she gently lifted her to her feet and pulled a white tissue from her back pocket. It was folded into two and pressed against the small one and half inch cut on the girl's arm. "I'll ring her this evening, so we can arrange a meeting. Now, come on we need to get your cut treated. It isn't that deep, but I think it may leave a little scar"
"I'm sorry"
"There is no need to be sorry. I promise that you will have all the help you need to readjust with life on the outside. You can have weekly therapy sessions with me or I can easily come out and visit you. I can monitor your progress that way"
"You'll do that for me?" shock tainted her voice.
"Of course, sweetheart. You want to live a normal life? Don't you?"
"Yes!" she nodded with enthusiasm. "More than anything!"
"Then I'm going to make sure you have it!"
x x x
One week later…
The ticking of the clock in Dr Murray's office was the only source of sound. It had been what, five, perhaps ten minutes since her therapist had left Katherine in the office. She had gone to retrieve Ms Diane Burroughs from the foyer. The last week been insightful with her discussions with Dr Murray. She knew now that this move into Ms Burroughs care was beneficial in her integrating back into the general public. It would take her some time to be used to being in a new environment, but she knew that measures were in place to help her. She needed some stability and security in her life and this was the way she would get it. But still she had often wondered why this woman would be interested in taking her into her home? What was so special about Katherine Krueger?
She heard the door to the room opened and twisted around to face Dr Murray as she led a dark hair woman into the room. Her dark brown hair was cropped short, and neatly cut. A pair of cream pearl earrings adorned her ears that matched her necklace. Her blue eyes stared down at her as she sat beside. She was also well smartly dressed in a navy blue skirt and cream cashmere jumper. It appeared she was in her late 40's, but actually looked a lot younger.
"Katherine" Dr Murray sat facing them, "This is Ms Diane Burroughs"
"Hello, Katherine" the woman's voice was soft and gentle.
"Hi" the teenager returned politely.
"I heard from Dr Murray, that you wanted to meet me first before you leave the Care Home"
"Yes, ma'am"
Ms Burroughs smiled at the girl's good manners, "You can ask me any questions you like, I'll try and answer them as best as I can. And oh yes, I took some photos of my home if you want to get familiar where you will be living"
She nodded slowly and then asked, "Is is just you I will be living with?"
"Yes. My husband passed away five years ago. We didn't have any children" she reached into her black handbag and pulled out a collection of Polaroid photos. "This is my home, I live at 122 Glendale Avenue"
Katherine expectantly took the photos from her and studied them one by one.
The first picture was of a modest two storey house, there were three steps that lead to porch with a wooden seat/swing to the right. The next few photos were of inside, a large spacious kitchen with bright cream and black tiles, a large living room, small TV room, and dining room. Each room was pleasantly decorated in bright colours. There was one photo of upstairs, basically a large bedroom with a single bed. It looked bare and ready to be decorated, ready fo someone to move into.
Ms Burroughs quickly pointed to the bedroom, "That will be your room. You can do it up any way you like. It looks out over the back yard. At evening you can see the sunset, it's beautiful"
She grinned and then a frown grew across her countenance, "What about school? Will I have to go to school in September?"
"If you want, but if you aren't comfortable about going to school next term I can arrange for home schooling" she proposed.
"That would be great!" Dr Murray smiled graciously, "Katherine has been feeling really anxious about going back to school. It is something we will talk to her about in her therapy sessions in the near future. At first I think she just needs to get settled in being in a new surroundings. In a few months I could maybe set up a meeting between us three, to see how she is setting in?"
"Yes, that is perfectly fine" she smiled reassuringly at the girl next to her, "The estate I live in is called Glendale, it's on the west side of the City. It' s very quiet. The local High School is called Glendale High. It is only a ten minute walk from where I live. I also hear that from you are interested in art?"
"Yes, it's my favourite hobby"
"Well, I have an empty garage that you are more than welcomed to use. It can be your art room if you want. It will be your own private space"
"Really?" was she hearing this? She had her own private area to draw and paint, without any interruptions? "Thank you ma'am!"
Ms Burroughs chucked lightly "You're welcomed. You don't have to keep calling me ma'am"
"Would I be able to have a radio in my room or a LP player? I like to listen to music, it helps me relax sometimes" she enquired.
"Yes dear, of course. If you want anything for your bedroom just ask me and I'll make sure it will be there for you when you arrive" she grinned.
"When do I have to leave here?" she looked over towards her therapist.
"It depends on Ms Burroughs"
Katherine turned to face her once more.
"I have a few visits to make to my relatives in Cleveland, so I would say about the end of April? Does that suit you?"
"Yes" she nodded. It would give her sufficient time to get used to the fact that she was leaving this place. She would engaged in more talks with Dr Murray and hopefully allay more of her anxieties. She tilted her head to the side, "Is there any house rules I would need to obey? Anything I'm not allowed to do"
"Obey?" the woman shook her head in dismay, "No, I have no rules. I am not strict or harsh. I just ask for you to tidy up after yourself. Don't leave it in a mess""
A look of disbelief flashed across her face.
"I'm not sure of your past sweetheart as I know it is confidential and if you don't want to talk about it I understand. But any of the children that I foster I always make sure to give them the freedom they need and deserve. As long as you tell me where you are going to, you can hang out with her friends after school or at the weekends or evenings. You can even bring them to the house. But let me know in advance" she assured gently.
Katherine nodded slowly. This was a big shock to her, to actually being allowed to have her own personal freedom? Was this it? Was she really going to be normal? Happy? With the help of Dr Murray she was going to do it, she was going to grasp the opportunity that was in front of her. To get the life that she had desperately longed for.
She was going to be free.