Chapter Fourteen: Flying
"There's no feeling in the world like flying through the air," she said. "Maybe you know where you're going to land, maybe you don't. But when you close your eyes and feel that surge of adrenalin running through your body, you feel like you can do anything." A smile crossed Harleen's lips.
"It's why I fell in love with gymnastics. That rush when my feet would leave the ground and I'd soar through the air, feeling like a god, if only for a split second. I went to training every day and I'd leave feeling completely refreshed and exhilarated. A lot of the other girls thought it was a chore but I couldn't get enough of it. That was the defining quality that made me good. Like internationally competing good. I had a shot at joining the Olympic team.
"Like any good tale, all my dreams were shattered with a missed landing," she said, pulling her left foot up. She removed her shoe and sock, letting him see the sole where a tiny line of scar tissue lay in the center of her arch. "Lisfranc joint injury. Severe enough to end any hopes I had of a successful gymnastics career. I was only sixteen and of course, it felt like my world had fallen apart. To top it off, my parents were fighting all the time and using me as leverage against one another. My last couple of years in high school were pure hell on me, emotionally."
"Your arm?" Mr. J asked about the obvious suicide scar her arm.
"Came later," she said. "No, the only physical scar I came out of high school with was from the surgery on my foot. Psychological scars, though, are another matter." Biting her bottom lip, rolling her eyes while shaking her head. "Adolescence is bad enough. Add the failure of your life's dream to the equation, plus the guilt that you're causing your parent's divorce, yeah, I was pretty fucked up by the time I went off to college. I chose a school that was as far away from home as I could get, practically across the country. It ensured I would only have to cope with my history on the holidays.
"The initial freedom of college was deceiving though. While there are all these experience to be had, I also had to decide what direction I wanted my life to go. At eighteen, that's next to impossible but I settled on business. Practical, logical, and I wouldn't have to worry about having lofty dreams. I'd stay grounded where my injury landed me. It seemed fitting at the time. Although now, I see the irony, since I just traded one dream for another.
"But all colleges require students to take general education courses, including some social science courses. I chose Psych 101 to make up the credit since it seemed more fun and easier than Sociology or Anthropology. Since it was a general course, it was broken down into two sections. Lecture and lab. Lecture was what the professor taught, in an auditorium of a hundred or so people. Lab classes were smaller, and taught by his teaching assistants, a chance for the students to actually comprehend what the lecture material was about and do minor experiments."
"Minor experiments?" Mr. J interjected.
"Like understanding how illusions work, or getting your lab partner to do something they normally wouldn't do through positive or negative reinforcement. Basic stuff that only touched on the various areas of psychological study." Harleen shrugged. "I don't really remember everything we did. It was, after all, twelve years ago."
"My lab had an amazing teaching assistant named Guy Kopski. I had such a huge crush on him from the moment I spotted him. Blond hair, blue eyes, good shape, completely gorgeous. He was a doctorate student, working on his dissertation in his off hours. The class was just a way for him to earn some extra brownie points on his application to medical school. Thanks to the lab class, he noticed me, or rather my high school crush on him and Guy asked me out. Of course, it was frowned upon for teaching assistants to date students but for an eighteen year old, rules were made to be broken.
"I suppose, for him, initially, it was a chance to have some fun and bang an undergrad. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed that as well. After a few months, we found ourselves going deep, into a real relationship and we began to learn a lot about each other. Due to my focused life experience, there wasn't much for him to learn about me. Gymnastics was one of the only things I knew anything about. I doubt I was terribly interesting to him, but now that I look back on it, I think my limitations appealed to him, making me easier to mold.
"Guy's dissertation was about Freud's Ego Psychology theories, with his focus being on the id. I don't know how familiar you are you are with this, but Freud theorized a long time ago that our minds are essentially made of three parts. The id, the ego, and the super ego. The super ego is that part of us that's about social acceptance, creates our guilt, and is essentially our conscience. It's learned behaviors and actions. The id is a more repressed part of ourselves that is all about the pleasure principle, and about instincts, such as aggression, libido, and so on. The id starts at birth. Children have no concept of how things work. All a child knows is he wants something now."
"Seems very familiar," he commented.
"It should and I'll get to that in a bit. Continuing, the last part of the trio is ego, which is our reality filter. It sets into place as we grow from childhood, learning that we can't have everything we want right away. It also helps to balance the id versus the super ego, allowing guilt for instinctual actions, such as a one night stand or eating too much. It's how most people function, at least according to the theory. A few people will lean heavily towards one side or another. The super moral people at one extreme, the sociopaths at the other." That drew a smile from Mr. J. Someone who leaned towards the id. "And Guy was interested in that instinctual human mind and how it operated in adults."
Harleen licked her lips. "I wasn't knowledgeable enough to understand what he was working on, but I knew from the other students in class that he was offering some of them opportunities to earn some extra cash by doing tests and surveys. Standard practice in our field since college students will do just about anything for a few dollars. And since Guy was funded by the college, it wouldn't be anything extreme. I'd inquired about participating myself but he told me there was an ethical boundary since we were in a relationship.
"So imagine my surprise when, a few months later, he asked my permission to participate in a long term experiment regarding my instincts and reactions. He wouldn't tell me any details, as any extraneous variables could affect my behavior in the experiment. And, unfortunately, at the time, I did not understand experimenter bias and that using me a test subject was crossing a line. I wanted to be perfect for him. The important thing to me was that Guy trusted me enough to be part of the one thing he loved more than me. His work."
Harleen paused for a moment, a wistful expression crossing her features, lost in memory. Mr. J leaned forward to poke her leg, snapping her out of it.
"I got a little ahead of myself there. Sorry. At the end of my first semester, I was out of his class, with an A, of course, and we decided to move in together. We were both madly in love with each other and he had a lovely house just off campus that he inherited from his grandparents when they died. I wanted to be with him, maybe even marry him, so it was perfect. We were perfect. And a month after I moved in, that's when he asked me to help him.
"I trusted him completely so I gave him my blessing to start his experiment on me, having no idea what he was observing me for. The first thing he did was hand me a diary. I was supposed to log all my thoughts in there, as much as I could, especially if they were impulse related. Like if I had a sudden craving for yogurt or imagined what it was like to have sex with someone else. Guy made it clear that there were no judgments, no matter what thoughts crossed my mind. As he told me, 'Thoughts are not actions. We all have urges.'"
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The longer she spoke, the more she felt the strain on her defenses, her hands clutching the jacket draped over her as if it was a lifeline. He didn't prod her, despite the impatience behind his eyes.
Keeping her eyes closed, she continued."The diaries were more difficult to keep than you would think. I mean, how does one person remember every impulse they have, but I did my best and Guy was pleased with my progress. I found, the longer I did it, the more I noticed my impulses. I thought my observations were getting keener but in reality, my urges were stronger and coming more frequently, like a crowd when it gets into a panic. It usually starts with something small and grows larger until it's out of control. It sort of felt like that.
"There was a reason for that, and not one I was aware of at the time. Guy had been drugging my food. He used to make me meals all the time so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to whip up dinner or hand me a snack. I had no reason to suspect he had gotten a supply of various medical drugs and was testing them on me to see my reactions. He was aiming to remove some of the natural mental resistance I had to my id. The drugs subtly supported that. I still don't know to this day how he got his hands on all those drugs. A mystery left unsolved.
"In any case, my id was more accessible thanks to the drugs, but Guy wasn't seeing the results he wanted in my diary, believing it wasn't an accurate enough account. People just simply don't remember everything."
"Why didn't you notice the drug's effects?" He interjected.
"While I never had the chance to view the exact drugs he used, I assume he picked medications which would increase the dopamine gradually over time, so the subtle effects would eventually become every day for me. Kind of like how a coffee drinker gets used to having their caffeine in the morning. Guy's problem was finding a balance that didn't send my mind in the wrong direction since many amphetamines increase the dopamine levels too high, creating nasty side effects."
"And you never once noticed anything off?"
"Of course I did, Mr. J. Guy wasn't a doctor and he didn't have the training or experience to accurately assess a drug's reaction with a patient. Especially one who was healthy. But when any of the medications caused side effects, I just assumed I was sick. I had no reason to believe he was drugging me. Although I should have found it suspicious that, during this time, he'd often ask me 'Harley?' His nickname for me. 'Do you trust me?'
"I'd always answer 'With my life,' thinking it romantic. I really did trust him too. Which brings me back to his thoughts on the diary. Guy wanted to change things up, make it more personal and more hands on. He wanted a twenty-four hour study and I was more than happy to spend more time with him. Before, when I mentioned that I traded one dream for another, this is what I was talking about. Guy completely absorbed me, taking over my world. I would have done anything for him because he had become my new dream, my new way of flying." She shook her head, disappointed in herself.
"During this time, he continued to drug me without my knowledge, slowly increasing the medication, which in turn increased by libido, my aggression, and my hunger. All primal instincts. He'd let me gorge myself, or screw him until I got tired, or scream my head off, all the while documenting my reactions. Despite feeling overly emotional, I did feel stronger, more confident in myself.
"It wasn't enough for Guy. What I didn't know, not until after his death, was that his real goal was to remove all repression from a mind, allowing the id to take full control of the person, superseding everything else."
"He figured it out, I take it," Mr. J said.
Harleen chuckled, the bitterness obvious. "Not exactly. Not the way you'd think. After awhile, I think he lost sight of his original goal. You see, we shattered one of the basic principles Freud's id. The theory states that the id will do anything to avoid pain, and as you saw, that's not the case with me." A shrug. "Avoiding pain is one major part of the human psyche that's present in almost everyone. It's why people give in to torture or fear accidents.
"Guy's next step was to begin a reward and punishment system. At this point, it was near summer. The all day lock down had been going on for many months and the drugs had saturated enough into my system that I'd become almost child-like in my reactions, without ever realizing it. Guy's punishments were the opposite of my mindset and they started small. If I asked for food, he'd slap my hand, but he wouldn't slap me if I just took it. So I learned to take what I wanted. If we had sex and I started it, I could do whatever I wanted. But if he initiated sex, he wouldn't let me orgasm, would only fulfill himself. He knew my body well enough to know if I was close. Then he'd slap me or punch me, the pain instantly pulling me out of the moment. Eventually, it evolved into cutting."
"Evolution is a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Mr. J leaned forward over the railing, pulling the jacket off her shoulders, exposing her broken body. "Which one was first?" His eyes roamed the scars, trying to answer his own question.
"It doesn't matter," she grimaced as she fought against the urge to run her hands over her body just to feel the complexity of the markings against her fingers, remembering the soft tingle that her own light touches could create. A shiver passed through her body, her willpower barely strong enough to keep her in control. She slipped the jacket back on her again. "I'm sorry, Mr. J. It's too close, too personal to answer." Her voice was shaky.
"For now," he said.
Breathing deeply, she chose not to respond, instead carrying on with her story. "Although I wish I didn't, I know exactly why I let him do such awful things to me. Guy would always remind me 'Harley, don't you trust me? I am making you stronger' over and over. Trust. And, of course, love. I wanted to make him proud of what I was doing, and all those emotions became enhanced even more as the drugs permeated my system. Eventually I had hit my tolerance for the medications he had been slipping me. To continue those treatments, he would need to switch to injections. 'Harley, do you trust me?' I always did, not caring why he wanted to slide that need into my arm. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, not really.
"The heavier drugs combined with his punishments, so much of my mind became about the present and what I wanted. I learned to take everything, never to wait. Unlearning all I knew about politeness and etiquette, becoming more aggressive in my actions to avoid the punishments he would inflict. He was succeeding beyond his wildest dreams with my progress. However, the experiment changed Guy as well."
"He began to enjoy leaving scars on your skin." Mr. J's words showed his admiration.
Harleen nodded, trying not to let his reaction affect her. "Yes. Guy had become a sadist, often initiating sexual encounters with me just for the sole purpose of being able to punish me. And after awhile, I learned to relax as he worked on me, even finding ways to push past the pain and find the pleasurable aspects of it. I couldn't do that with everything, though. Not yet. And he became fascinated by my reactions, how sometimes I could orgasm even though he was causing me pain. And it began to consume Guy, more so than his original study ever had. He wanted to push my limits, see how far I could go.
"You've seen some of his handiwork. He became very creative, making his work last. And Guy would wait until I was on the verge of orgasm, just about to crash over, and then bite me, or burn me, cut me, brand, whichever he felt like that day. So I would experience the pleasure with the pain. And thanks to the work he'd already put in, combined with the increasingly high doses of drugs he gave me daily, I began to marry the pain and the pleasure in my mind, as well as my body. I wanted him to hurt me, begged him even, because I began to need the pain to orgasm. And since I was practically a slave to my impulses, I would do whatever it took to make it happen."
Closing her eyes, she said, "That's where my neck scar came from."
When she reopened her eyes, Mr. J's arms were placed on the top of the railing, rapt attention. "You said it hurt like hell."
"Oh it did." Harleen licked her lips, again, memory swimming through her, extremely dangerous territory, but she needed to get the words out. She had to tell him. "Guy left a knife by my hand while he was behind me. I think he wanted to see what I'd do. If I would take it to make myself feel more. I had been at the edge of orgasm for some time and I was waiting for a blow, a slap, a cut, anything to push me over. But Guy did nothing. Infuriating."
She could feel the anger growing inside, the memory becoming real to her again. "And I was growing more desperate by the moment, screaming at him to do something. I had become so reliant on him. And he just laughed." Her grip on the purple coat tightened. Her knuckles going white, her voice hard. "I became angry. I wanted to destroy something so badly just to feel some form of vindication. And by anger, I mean rage, blinding rage. So I took up the knife and I destroyed something."
"Myself. I sliced my neck open, giving into that rage, giving into my pleasure and the pain, all at the same time." Her eyes met Mr. J's, her voice became a whisper. "Words cannot describe the sense of euphoria I felt when every sensation combined inside me. It was the perfect moment when everything simply stood still and I became aware, feeling as if I could do anything. I understood everything and the world made sense. The only other time I felt anything remotely close to that was when I was in the air. Flying high."
Harleen stopped for a moment, expecting another fight inside, but nothing. As if her impulsive side wanted to pay respect to that memory as well, a tribute to the true moment of clarity. Mr. J seemed captivated by whatever expressions were passing over her face, removing one his gloves to wipe away a tear that was sliding down her cheek. The gesture from him wasn't meant to give comfort, but rather to show understanding, kinship. She knew in that moment that he'd had his own experience, an epiphany that changed him forever. And while it may not have been stitched on his face, it was forever etched inside him.
Neither of them spoke for awhile, each reliving their own vivid experiences, allowing the other to do the same. A moment of harmony between them where neither felt the need to push the other towards whatever ends were in store. And when she was ready, she looked back up to capture his eyes again. And Mr. J laughed. For once, she didn't find it creepy or disturbing in the least. Instead, it wrapped around her, digging into her core, until all she could do in response was laugh as well.
When their laughter died down, Harleen continued, the smile still on her face. "I passed out from the blood loss. And when I woke up, my neck was stitched and bandaged and there a new purpose to my being. I don't think Guy even realized what he'd done right away, what he created. It wouldn't take him long to figure it out, though."
Her smile faded. "I spent so much time worrying that you'd break me but really, all this control is like putting a band aid on a leaking pipe. It might work for awhile, but eventually, the pipe will burst. It was foolish of me but I'd forgotten. I was broken a long time before I ever met you."