A true Yarn for you to read, and believe or not - about Ritual Abuse, Deception and Vulnerability in a Town just about Anywhere. We name it Hicktown.

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Showing posts with label ritual abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ritual abuse. Show all posts


The Background

Kelly whose experiences are outlined in these pages wanted to write her own book. Part of her aim was to make money so she could get out of the awful trap of living that she was in. Much of what Kelly did including engaging with people on the Internet, was her only means of hoping her life could change for the better, moving somewhere away from it all and having a new start.

‘The Book’ you are now reading is the subject of a deal Kelly and I made in our early days of contact. I insisted it was her book and I was helping her put it together, basically acting as a sounding-board. ‘Write it for me. Promise me,’ she begged. This was an undercurrent running through our discussions. ‘OK, it’s a deal,’ I said.

‘The Book’ compiled from our Internet conversations and emails, will not be a money-spinner. It is published here freely though under Copyright, for you to read or forward the link to others. The object is to help survivors of cult ritual abuse, particularly young or vulnerable people, and to draw attention to some truly 'Astonishing Therapy'.

This story is unfortunately not a fairy tale and not a fabrication. If people tell you that it does not happen, or it cannot happen, maybe they can explain to me how anyone can possibly know that, however learned they are. If anyone wants me to retract it, why would you? - There will be detractors. But things can improve. The chances of cults and perpetrators continuing to get away with things because they can, or because no-one listens or believes, will be greatly reduced. Principles which can be used to control others can also be used to undo control..

Many of us believe in some way that how we are in ourselves, before death or at the point of death, does have significance for us or those around us. It is something that only we can sort out for ourselves. Anyone can take my word for what appears in these pages or not. After all, it's a free country. . . This is my call to people involved in these practices to tell us honestly what is done and why, and what can be done about it.

If these things were happening to someone you know, what would your reaction be? Would you be in with a chance of stepping in, so that they can step out?

There are an unfortunate group of people who have become embroiled in accusing their families of abuse and later realise it was a mistake. The more informed discussion there is, the better for them and their families too. Since engaging with Kelly I have read books on memories of abuse, and studied some Jung, thinking I might find an explanation as to why sometimes people feel they have been ritually abused when maybe not all of it happened in that way.

A search on Amazon or Google will help you to find what you are looking for. Also see Lucela's List for background reading. Use your judgement.


These pages are the result of an acquaintance with someone I call Kelly who told me about her life and I listened. She wanted me to write ‘the Book’ if she was unable to. It is a joint effort in the hope that anyone who listens can do something however small, to ensure that no-one else goes through these things, adults or children, male or female. And no-one makes things worse for them!

There are ways to break into these cycles, or wheels. If I do not try after hearing about Kelly’s life, what would that make me? ‘The Book' mattered to her most of all when things looked so bleak that she thought she had no future on this earth, either she could stand things no longer, or someone else might end it for her. How can you make a proper Deal with people who don’t deal a straight pack of cards? How do stage magicians succeed with their tricks?

In Kelly’s past there was a degree of cultic ritual abuse involving some ‘satanic’ philosophy, but that is not the key issue. We need to move beyond that concept to reach the far shore. Someone apparently keeping Kelly involved was a woman whose path crossed hers to the point where Kelly insisted on a Deal: Kelly would not reveal personal and cult matters relevant to this woman I call Marta Smith. In return Marta must leave Kelly alone - Did she though?

‘The Book’ is a compilation of various aspects and themes in Kelly’s life. Some events described happened in a different order from the way they are laid out. It is based on what Kelly told me, and interactions I had with her and others involved. Some information on techniques and events for controlling people have been omitted to diminish possible harm. We are each responsible for ourselves and our actions, and I bear responsibility for ‘the Book’, no more and no less.

Names and personal details have been altered. Certain things have been omitted out of deference to Kelly, her alters who told me their secrets, her family and friends and other people involved. For readability, other parts have been curtailed. 'The Book' is written -

For people who get into trouble

And to help them see the light


‘Break into it anywhere’ is a phrase used in family therapy or general group work. It can be difficult to know how to engage in a family or group’s dynamics to improve things, where there are so many issues and needs, and so much confusion. Something works, things change, waters become unmuddied. But one does tend to get one’s hands muddy in the process of reaching the gold underneath. ‘Break into it anywhere’ is also sometimes used to encourage survivors of any kind of abuse to begin talking to someone, starting with something they feel most safe with, and talking about the things they feel they can talk about, moving on from there.

Kelly (not her real name) and I had made contact on an email group, where someone asked about books to help in their plight as a survivor of cult ritual abuse. I replied, and then Kelly wrote to me with a book title. When I pressed Send to respond to Kelly’s email, I realised it had just gone to Kelly rather than to the whole group. I asked her if she wanted it to go to others on the group, and she replied she would prefer not. That is how it began . . .

Web of Deceit

‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive'. We can weave a web of deceit around ourselves if we wish. But why do people weave it around others?

Principles which can be used to control others can also be used to undo control

Break Into It Anywhere

On several occasions I stumbled across the woman I call Marta (not her real name) during times when I was online expecting to talk to Kelly, an online contact I’d met on an email group. Somehow Kelly and I got along quite well, sharing the same sense of humour even during hard times for her, or when I could not understand what was happening or what she was trying to say.

‘Kelly is not here. She has gone away for a few days,’ appeared on my MSN screen when I signed in one afternoon earlier than usual. ‘I am a friend looking after her place and the cats.’ I enquired after the three cats, because the youngest had been seriously ill and Kelly had taken it to the vet. ‘How is the kitten?’ I asked.

‘Well there are two cats here and they are fine,’ came a reply which set my hackles rising. ‘Like I said, Kelly is not here, and when she gets back she won’t want to talk to you, so you might as well delete her name on your computer.’ I believed this was Marta, someone who did not wish Kelly well. She did not sound very friendly! ‘If Kelly wants to delete me when she’s back, that is up to her,’ I replied, and the person on the other end signed out abruptly.

Another notable computer conversation with Marta happened late one Saturday evening, and I experienced it as rude, abrupt and uncalled for. I was still up with the computer on and signed into Chat while I sat having something to eat. I heard someone sign in and thought it was another person I was waiting for, but the ID was Kelly’s.

‘Hi, I am still up’ I wrote.

‘I don’t know who you think you are talking to,’ came the reply, ‘but Kelly is not here.’ Something warned me that this was the woman from the cat-sitting episode and I did not like the feel. I switched to Invisible setting but a message appeared ‘Stop hiding. It’s too late for that now.’

I ignored it and left the computer. My mobile phone alerted me there was an email message from Kelly’s ID, ‘Come on MSN now and stop hiding.’ Curiosity usually did get the better of me.

‘I gather you have been writing to Kelly recently,’ wrote Marta. ‘I don’t know how long this has been going on. I only just learned about it. But it is confusing for her to be in touch with you as well as myself. Why are you poking your nose into this? It is none of your business.’

I tried to lighten the situation with ‘It’s probably something in my genes’.

‘Well maybe you should get yourself a new pair of jeans before you really do some damage’ came the prompt and enigmatic response. ‘Very funny,’ I wrote.

‘There is nothing at all funny about this, I assure you,’ wrote Marta. ‘You are interfering in something you know nothing about. You will do more harm than good. You cannot understand.’

I was not about to give her the edge any more than she seemed to have it already. If I could do something, anything, to break her hold on Kelly, I would give it my best shot. I saw it as a likely advantage that until now Marta was largely unaware of frequent communication between Kelly and myself, dealing with the subject of Marta in particular. We had also discussed Kelly’s unwilling cult involvement. Marta and the cult seemed closely connected.

‘Sorry I have to go,’ I wrote. 'I'm glad we have an understanding,' came from the other end and I signed out quickly with relief.

When I raised the issue with Kelly of what Marta was saying and her signing in on Kelly’s ID, Kelly apologised saying she knew nothing about it. But there was more to follow, including a memorable episode when Marta actually pretended to be Kelly.

It took a long time online with Kelly before I learned the things that were most relevant. Anyone reading this is free to make up their own mind about what is described. In essence, I believe it to be a true account. You are free to read or not, to believe or not. Kelly was a pawn in someone’s insidious game. I learned what I could about related issues. You may not agree with my thoughts and will likely have your own. That is fine – Break into it your way, or ignore it all.

In my life I choose what time to get up, what job I do, what to spend money on, whether to go to the theatre, the park, who my friends are or who to avoid. Like most of us fortunate enough in our society, there is freedom insofar as constraints allow such as health, finances, accommodation, employment, the needs of others etc. Mostly I can do, say and think what I want to, and change my mind if I want. I can have hopes and dreams, however unrealistic or stupid they are. Who should prevent those? Who would want to?

Kelly did not have freedom. If she was required to be somewhere on a particular night she was made to go – Somehow. I believed Marta was instrumental in this. If Kelly was told to do something, however abhorrent it was or illegal, she had no choice. When she refused or stood up for herself, she was punished. Threats were made, or methods of extreme confusion used on her. I could not just lounge in front of TV knowing what she was enduring. Despite all that was done and said to her, Kelly remained an independent soul and paid dearly for that stance. Let us hope it was not all in vain.

Kelly is not the only person subjected to these things. Some details or approaches vary, but the essence is the same: Control, domination, subjugation, brutality, mind-twisting, enforced drug-taking, much of which Kelly was largely unaware about. This takes some doing on someone’s part in terms of mind-control and the sheer time involved. Read on, and you may see connections with how it all began.

You may wonder how I might know things if Kelly herself did not. She was encouraged to dissociate and could put things out of awareness more than most of us do as a natural process. Perhaps she had a natural tendency for dissociation from an early age. I believe someone realised her potential for dissociation, then learned techniques for inducing her to forget or be unaware, till eventually Kelly, who could have had a much better life than she did, had a much worse one. Life can be hard even for the fortunate. Why would anyone do this deliberately to another person or to many?

Some possible reasons are outlined here. The rest would be too personal for Kelly. Please use it wisely to help people, and not to cause any harm by denying her reality, or by imposing it on others for whom it may not be relevant.

Who Would Do Such A Thing?

Kelly had a sudden and urgent desire to plant things in her small garden. I was happy to go along with discussing flowers and bushes. No sooner said than done, she emailed pictures of what she had put in. She had spent her entire monthly allowance on plants.

‘My momi dos tell me to do dat,’ appeared on my MSN screen. This was on Kelly’s ID and a young alter of hers called DaisyMay, Daisy for short. ‘She told you to do what, Daisy?’ I asked. ‘And Marta is not your mommy, she only says so.’

‘Marta is my momi, so der,’ insisted Daisy. ‘U is not my momi. And u is not my aunti no mor. My momi dos say u is not my aunti.’ In an attempt to get along better with Daisy, I had taken on an aunt-type role to help her with growing up, as she had crucial things to say but I could not understand her language.

Daisy was having a stroppy day. She was often helpful in explaining things about Kelly and her life, things Kelly found too hard to talk about, or that she simply did not know consciously. If Kelly found it hard to talk, Daisy often paved the way until Kelly felt safe enough to write. Getting stroppy towards Daisy did not work.

‘Hello Daisy. How are you? What did Marta want you to do?’ I tried again. ‘Get Kelly to spend all her monni on flowrs. Me dos dat,’ Daisy replied.

‘Ok, but why does Marta want Kelly to spend money on flowers, do you know?’ I asked. Daisy replied cryptically ‘Me dos it, k.’ At times when I knew Kelly was going through a lot and was unable to talk for some reason, Daisy’s contributions were a vital function.

She continued ‘Yes, me dos, so Kelly got no monni left. And Marta punish Kelly for no monni, u get dat?’ Frankly, I did not, but wheels were beginning to turn in my brain which would have to wait. Daisy added ‘An the flowrs are for grave, but dats secrt, k.’

‘Ok, it’s a secret Daisy, I won’t tell. Do you know whose grave?’ I wrote. ‘Bcos me goin to be angel,’ said Daisy.

‘Daisy, we had all this at Hallowe’en when Marta said you were going to be an angel. Angel means dead, doesn’t it? Why would anyone want to be an angel?’ I was now concerned, in full alert mode without knowing what was happening. First it was a manic Kelly planting flowers, then a ruse to get Kelly short of cash with some sort of punishment, now Daisy talking about the flowers being for her grave and becoming an angel, i.e. dead to this world.

‘Kelly dos jump off dat bridg,’ wrote Daisy. ‘Be angel, rit.’ Kelly herself came through then but it was no good my asking about this as she would have no awareness. Perhaps she'd reveal something that would tie in, or we could touch on it later. It would need to be obliquely or would get nowhere.

When she next came online, Kelly was freaking, to use her word for it. ‘There are pills in my cupboard,’ she wrote excitedly. ‘They are not mine, they are all different colours like candy, and they are in my cupboard. In a candy-bowl, and I don’t have a freaking candy-bowl,’ she said. ‘I don’t even recognise it. So you don’t believe me.’ This challenge that I did not believe her ran through our conversations when anything unusual happened, or I asked a question to fathom what was going on.

‘Well give me half a minute,’ I wrote. ‘And I did not say I don’t believe you. When could it have got in the cupboard?’ Kelly thought, ‘Maybe on Tuesday when I went out to get groceries.’ I asked her ‘Did you lock the door?’

‘I never lock the door. There’s no lock,’ came the reply. Kelly had apparently lived there for two years with no means of locking the main door inside or out. This explained why she sat in the room with the computer with the only door that locked. I said that when she got her next monthly payment, she would need to get a lock. Then we set about how to get rid of the pills. Kelly had a strong urge to take them, and her hand was in and out of the bowl as we talked. Eventually she grabbed the bowl and flushed the contents away.

There was an immediate reaction from one of her alters whom I knew as the ‘robot’, one I had intermittent slanging matches with. It might not be the best way to handle things, but that was how interaction went between us, till one day he seemed remorseful about something Kelly went through, and he disappeared. I simply do not know what motivated him, except that he was a type of control mechanism put in place by Marta to report back to her, to delete my emails before Kelly saw them, or to write me misleading emails purporting to be from the Kelly I knew.

This robot called me the usual rude names, then said in large letters ‘What did you get her to do that for? You were not supposed to do that. She was meant to take them.’ And the insults continued, along with several ‘LOL’ which was his idea of making a joke.

‘Why are you laughing?’ asked Kelly. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, just the robot thing having a go at me,’ I replied. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Kelly, her usual response to things she had no way of knowing or doing anything about. ‘Was he rude?’

Actually, I learned a great deal from this robot, as I did from others who replaced him subsequently, all probably put there in some way by Marta. (During subsequent pages, there are some references to ‘protector’ type alters. Unfortunately, many of these apparent ‘protectors’ took on an adverse role towards Kelly and myself. I apologise for confusion.)

That week, there were other episodes with pills appearing in the same candy-bowl which Kelly had emptied. She flushed the next lot. The third batch got dropped on the floor as she dropped the candy-bowl in haste and panic and it smashed. ‘Who would do such a thing?’ Kelly kept asking. I think she was so phased by it that she was not properly angry. She seemed more incredulous about the whole episode, despite the many conversations we had about Marta wishing her bad things, and actually doing them around her. Over the weekend, Kelly and I had a normal chat about her garden and some plants people gave her. We arranged to talk a later that day, probably still about her garden.

I don’t know if it was a robot or a ‘protector’ of sorts who came through at the start of the second conversation that day. They said Kelly was laughing and if I could not handle it I should sign out. Kelly had been particularly depressed recently. Now, her recent prescription for medication had disappeared, and she found some old pills in her cupboard. To my mind they did not suit her too well, but she could see nothing wrong with taking them in the absence of the new type.

Kelly was using the voice mic on MSN and laughing a lot. Very different from how she had been earlier. In fact she'd been quite calm and reflective. I said that I thought someone had changed her pills around, and she'd taken one that made her manic. ‘I am not manic,’ she emphasised. ‘Definitely not manic.’ And on it went, with my trying to get Kelly to throw those pills out too, while she giggled and made jokes till our time was up. Later an alter told me that the pills were switched by an intruder into her home. Kelly had an outpatient appointment with her psychiatrist the following day, and giggled all through although not being admitted as an in-patient.

About a week later I came on MSN to a panicking Kelly. ‘Pills in ice-cream,’ was all I could get out of her. Daisy had mentioned that Marta gave her ice-cream as a bribe to do things, like getting Kelly to go to places. Both Kelly and Daisy had complained of stomach aches after ice-cream from the fridge. We thought some of the ice-cream contained drugs to get Kelly back to see Marta. Kelly hated anything to do with drugs.

‘Maybe you can just throw the ice-cream out,’ I said. Telling Kelly directly to do something usually rendered her incapable of doing what was needed. ‘Nononononono,’ she wrote. ‘My kids are home, they nearly had some. I dug down and there were pills. You knew about the ice-cream,’ she accused me. ‘How did you know?’

Earlier she'd emailed to say there were groceries in the kitchen which she had not bought. When someone who tends to dissociate says ‘Someone bought groceries, I found them in the kitchen’ it can mean that they simply don’t remember, or another alter personality did it. Most of us can’t always remember where we bought a skirt or shoes, or may remember wrongly. It is not usually as critical as this clearly was.

‘No, I didn’t know,’ I said. ‘But when you said there was food including ice-cream in the kitchen that you didn’t buy, I suggested you check the ice-cream before your kids had any. Just in case.’

‘Oh right,’ said Kelly. ‘Ya, you did.’ For someone who had these and other things happening around her, she was generally pretty trusting of me. ‘But they could just have helped themselves,’ she added, scared rather than angry. Yes, they could.

People may wonder whether Kelly did these things herself in one of her alter personalities, or in a persona which had been introduced into her functioning. This can happen but I did not believe it in these circumstances. Often I was encouraged to believe by one of the programmed alters, that Kelly was deluded and was deluding me. There was an alternative to this view - a real live other person with an agenda and needs, plus various other people, like players in a well co-ordinated Game.

Several times Marta came online to inform me that Kelly had been admitted to the local psychiatric ward, yet within an hour Kelly contacted me saying she was at home. One day I asked where she was for a whole hour Marta had spent online with me, and she replied ‘Here, crying’. Certain of the hospital staff had instructions to contact Marta if Kelly showed up there. Marta would turn up and whisper in Kelly’s ear, or take her out of the hospital for hours, which was strictly banned. Afterwards communication with Kelly would be fraught as though she was instructed not to talk. These hospital situations seemed designed to drive a wedge through Kelly’s and my contact. Later there were attempts to get me involved in agreeing that she was mentally ill and ought to be admitted.

Special Occasions

This chapter and other chapters may contain triggering material, so please make sure you are safe and prepared before reading.

When Kelly lived in her previous house, she sometimes avoided attending ‘special meetings’ on specific dates in the ritual calendar year, or simply at full moon. She went to a friend’s house, or took sleeping pills so she did not hear knocking on her door, a car horn, or the telephone with triggering messages, instructions or threats. It meant she was not out shopping where someone alerted a cult member of her whereabouts. She sometimes said ‘They get me in the mall’ or ‘They got me in the grocery store.’ Often she had no idea what had happened, or whether she actually attended a cult meeting. She also vanished from her craft classes.

I remember being puzzled that in some ways she was left to lead her life as a mother of young children, while also being required to lead an active cult life. On occasion, she apparently avoided cult meeting dates for lengthy periods without recrimination, until something or someone entered the equation to make her go back. Certainly, things escalated to a point where neither of us had a clue when she would be safe or not. Days when her children were home were generally safe. Someone else knew when she'd be alone.

Cult nights seemed to be mainly Mondays, then more likely on Wednesdays. There were occasions when I thought she was cult-free especially while in employment, until I would learn she was tired out through having been ‘taken’ the night before, returning with bruises and torn clothes but little recollection. The penny finally dropped that a special ritual started at midnight before the actual day. This explained how sometimes we'd chat on the evening of a ritual date as if nothing much had happened, unless she complained of stomach pains, bruises, or ribs hurting. When I enquired about this during a fairly civil chat with the robot, he said ‘Now you are getting over my boundaries.’

People who work with ritual abuse suggest that there needs to be a degree of co-ordination between alters, to be able to get somewhere, and also to speak to alter personalities who are loyal to the cult and its activities. With Kelly it has always been that she has so little awareness. Mostly I dealt with Kelly, young DaisyMay, and the first robot who did a lot of slanging and LOL. Sometimes I tried saying firmly that Kelly or Daisy simply should not go to an event no matter what the inducements or threats, because they knew what the result would be, and I would be told ‘But it’s not Kelly who goes.’ Daisy said there was someone compliant within Kelly’s small system of DID alters, who answered the door on cult nights. She said the person was obedient - like a doormat would be.

I could hardly believe it when someone wrote in pale Turquoise colour ‘Is there anything you wish to say before we go tonight? This is your last chance.’ Was this person the key? I thought I'd finally struck lucky. Turquoise said I had a chance to state my case that evening, to make a kind of bid for Kelly. She said it was only fair that I have my turn. She explained that Marta offered them a home to visit, security, care, hugs, and Turquoise wanted to know what I was offering. I said a few inane things about believing people should have a free choice and it was their souls that were important. Turquoise called that strange but said the final say was hers. Tonight they simply would not go, I had no need to worry further. As far as I know no-one from Kelly’s system attended a ritual that night.

Turquoise came through another night when there was a cult meeting, asking whether I wanted to say anything. I delayed a little, Turquoise left abruptly and Kelly came through. This meant that anything I would have written for Turquoise would have been read by Kelly, which had already caused problems. The next time Turquoise tried this ploy, I challenged her that she nearly landed me in difficulty with Kelly reading things, and Turquoise vanished from the scene.

There have since been a variety of people who at first I believed to be in a ‘protector’ role towards Kelly. In part they probably were. What generally happened was they began to sound remarkably like Marta, and slanging matches ensued when I called their bluff, or they simply disappeared. They could have been interested in their own welfare or the needs of the moment, or acting under instruction.

Negotiation is a wonderful skill, but I find it hard to deal in a non-straight manner, so that is what Kelly was stuck with, having grown to trust me to the extent she did. I enjoyed tying up the thinking of other alters in knots. They only seemed interested or capable regarding their given role, and in their own safety or continuation of life. Some were apparently willing to die if Kelly chose to end it all. Some said Marta really wanted Kelly dead now, and it did seem increasingly so. But these threats can go on year upon year.

One night I was talking to someone who seemed in a ‘protector’ role, holding the fort while Kelly talked gibberish and rocked back and forth with memories that had recently come through. I called this alter Rachel, and was on standby to help her cope with things she had never done, like shopping, making phone calls, and caring for the children. Rachel and I worked out some of Kelly's likely cult training, which becomes more apparent towards the end of this narrative. We believed Kelly's current therapist was involved in that training before Kelly became involved with her more recently and causing me concern. See Fruitloop Therapy, and also Did You Call the Cops? appearing directly below on the current page.

‘I can do something about this right now,’ Rachel wrote in a bright cerise colour on my MSN screen. ‘I just realised I am capable of making a decision.’ This was quite something, after her alter personality only just learning to speak. I had no idea anything was going wrong.

‘So you won’t have to listen to her rubbish any more,’ wrote Rachel. I became alert. ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

‘We simply won’t be here for you to have to listen to,’ came her reply.

‘Oh, you think I haven’t heard this stuff before from other people? You can’t make decisions like that. Only Kelly can. It’s not your decision to make. If Kelly wants to end it all that is up to her, but it is definitely not up to you. You have gone too far with this. It is not your right.’ I did not know where this was coming from within me, but sometimes one gets tuned in rather than missing a cue.

‘Kelly has gone,’ came Rachel’s reply. ‘She has lost her mind and says the same two words over and over. And she’s rocking, and pulling her hair out.’

‘I think I can get her back. I have done it before because we've known each other a long time. But it takes time,’ I wrote. I had been aware that sometimes Rachel stepped in too quickly. When Kelly and I touched on certain areas of conversation, Rachel would say ‘Enough of this. Stop,’ and took things on a different track or signed out.

‘If you want to listen to Kelly whining and crying and talking rubbish then you do, but that’s all you’ll get. She has completely lost it and gone,’ wrote Rachel. ‘That’s ok. I’ll talk to her,’ I wrote, and Rachel disappeared. I never spoke to her again.

‘Hiii,’ wrote Kelly shakily. ‘Hi,’ from me.

Kelly was back, not for long because the robot came through. ‘You did it again’ he wrote in the large letters he used. ‘That person had a knife to our throat all the while you were talking. We were really going to die. That was quite something, thank you.’ Thanks from the robot! All that came from his direction over the years were insults, occasional background information, and unreserved praise for Marta. He used to say in comparison that I was a one-woman joke who knew nothing about anything.

‘Hi aunti,’ wrote DaisyMay, the young alter who blew hot and cold. ‘U sav my lif. Dat person had nif at Kelly frot. Aunti, fank u.’

‘Hi Daisy. Are you OK? What happened?’ I replied. ‘Dat person mean, reely mean. She try kil Kelly an me wiv nif at frot. We got marks.’ Daisy left and Kelly returned.

'Why is there a mark on my throat?’ she asked. ‘I just looked in the mirror and my throat is marked.’ Kelly had no recollection. All I knew was what Daisy and the robot said, plus recent suspicions of Rachel’s intentions to kill the body, which was mostly Kelly’s at this time.

By Lammas, the festival around 31st July/1st August, things for Kelly were more critical. Some nights I was unavailable on the computer, and Marta apparently took advantage to do deep hypnotic work with Kelly, far beyond anything I was aware of or could counter with words over the Internet.

Some years, Lammas had not featured much in Kelly’s calendar. She seemed to get through the summer largely unscathed, until Hallowe’en reared its head in October and there was trouble till the end of May. This year, it was Rachel who warned me to be wary of Lammas. Kelly sometimes alerted me to what was said during Marta’s indoctrinations. It would came out in a rush of pages of cryptic spelling, with no conscious awareness of imparting it, but a desperate need to inform me. Regarding Lammas it was Marta saying: ‘You are trash, you hear me? You had better be dead before Lammas, or I will make sure you are then. You must walk into the flames. Hell is too good for you. Walk through the flames towards the light. That will be the end for you and it will all be over.’ See the end of this Chapter regarding the word ‘trash’.

Kelly’s health was in a serious condition, and I wondered how long it could be before her body simply gave up living, or she might collapse and get taken to hospital. Now there were the Lammas threats. I tried to be available online when I felt Kelly would be vulnerable to being taken to the cult meeting, but this time she was taken from her home earlier. She returned with no knowledge of having attended the cult, and there was never any point in my asking.

After our MSN session the night after Lammas, Kelly signed out in a reasonable frame of mind and I breathed with relief. Wrong again. There was an urgent email from Kelly in the early hours next morning. ‘There are flames, people running everywhere, people having sex with each other. Help me please.’ I replied initially saying that I thought this was probably not real, that for some reason she had been told about these things, or was seeing them in her mind’s eye as she tried to relax. It sounded like the awful awake-dreams she often had.

‘It’s real,’ she replied. ‘And there are ropes and I am meant to hang myself. I am rubbish, trash. And everyone is watching me. And it’s real. It’s from last night. They are memories.’ Kelly had survived that Lammas, and was alive to tell the tale. Once again, the deadline for the end of her life had proved false. What was this stuff, and why perpetuate it as Marta and the cult did?

Notes regarding ‘trash’

The words ‘trash’ and ‘garbage’ featured frequently in conversations with Kelly. When I first came in contact with her and knew little about her circumstances, the young alter Daisy told me that Kelly drove to the garbage dump. That was where she felt she belonged because that’s what she was, ‘garbage’.

Did You Call The Cops?

I was away earlier in the week using a laptop which froze, and downloaded software while Kelly waited. The mobile phone alerts packed up working. Marta or an alter on her behalf, was blocking emails from another account I set up, and it was back to square one. Communication between Kelly and myself was fraught, with Kelly asking searching questions about her life and what she could do to help herself.

Over the following weekend I took a day out from Kelly and the horrific things I was hearing. The email situation was OK, the phone alerts were working, and there was no message from Kelly until my return journey. ‘Did you call the cops?’ she asked.

‘No, I would not do that. Why? I will be back in an hour for MSN,’ I texted, glad I could communicate this way. When I was 15 minutes from home there was another email alert, ‘I have to drive the car. The cops are coming. I have to leave.’ Later that evening Kelly returned to her home and we tried to sort out what happened.

‘You called the cops. You said I would get into trouble over all those emails last week,’ she accused me.

‘You did not write those emails. It was that robot alter. I got mad at him,’ I replied. The robot part of Kelly’s system had jammed my email box with 200 emails.

‘Well the cops were coming and I had to drive.’ Here I would remind readers that Kelly was an intelligent woman with a degree, bringing up her children as normally as she was able, doing a good job of it in appalling circumstances.

‘Aunti,’ wrote Daisy who often knew more about things than Kelly. ‘When cops come, Kelly always leaves house. K.’ Gradually things fell into place from other episodes. One way to get Kelly out of her house and available to the cult was to get her scared. The fear would settle in one of a few ways, instilled into her as the only options. Kelly would feel an absolute urge to leave her home, then would be picked up by the cult. Or she felt compelled to go to Marta's home believing it safe. The robot alter had said everything was about control.

I do not believe all of the police in the area were corrupt or in the cult, but some were asked to drive by Kelly’s house. Many times she said there was a police car outside when Marta or the cult were agitating for Kelly’s physical or mental deterioration or demise. On other occasions Kelly felt compelled to admit herself to hospital. Sometimes when in a severe panic or manic state, Kelly was not admitted to hospital. Other times she was easily admitted, then suddenly released home when she seemed in no fit state to cope.

As Daisy put it, ‘U say get help. Who dos we call? Cops no good, hosptal bad. Wher we go aunti? Who we gonna tell? Nobodi dos nuffin.’

One of the problems with accounts of ritual abuse like Kelly’s, is that she has been basically very consistent in what she says. Then it all becomes too much for her to think of as reality, so she prefers to believe it was just a dream that could not happen. Regarding threats of death and other things, these are indeed an effective method of control. They make people look foolish or lying if they tell other people about them in a bid to get them examined.

Regarding things that cult members like Kelly do recall and talk about, there are other factors involved such as subterfuge, mind-twisting, the difficulty of telling fact from fantasy. When I said to Kelly ‘Sooner or later the cult will make a big mistake and we will all get to hear about it, she replied simply ‘People who make mistakes, pay other people to cover up those mistakes.’

All Over Now?

Kelly had been online on the Monday evening and we managed to prevent her driving her car. It was hard to tell exactly what happened on such occasions. Daisy would say ‘Abodi dos driv dat car’ which seemed to mean another alter drove.

Neither Kelly nor ‘abodi’ drove on that Monday evening. The next night we chatted on MSN, and I was later flooded with emails from Daisy alerting me that something was wrong. Eventually Kelly came through. Something sounded urgent and serious. There was one email in my inbox which had not come through on the alerts. ‘Please, please can you come on MSN now.’

‘I did all you said. I tried and I tried, and I feel myself going,’ pleaded Kelly. What happened next had happened before but not to a great extent. Younger alters from Kelly’s past vied for my attention which disengaged Kelly. The present was no threat for the youngsters, who felt no need to leave the house. They could not be influenced by the triggering emails or threats.

The following evening, Daisy wrote sadly, ‘My momi no want to see me. Her no come no mor. Her no lik me.’

‘I’m sure Marta will see you,’ I replied, not knowing what had happened. ‘You did it, we won,’ said Kelly excitedly. ‘It’s over.’

‘Not really. You did most of it, and I was just here,’ I replied. ‘No, it’s really over,’ she said.

A new ‘protector’ intervened: ‘There was a telephone call from Marta today that she no longer wishes to see Kelly, and all Kelly’s obligations to the cult are over.’

What had I missed? ‘Sorry, I don’t understand. Kelly and I were online half the night. What happened?’

‘You won,’ he replied. ‘It is over now. Marta will not be back.’ I tried to think back, and we continued like this for a while with my still not understanding. ‘U did it aunti, but me no see momi no mor,’ wrote Daisy sadly.

The new ‘protector’ whom I later came to think of as Wilf continued. ‘There are some things you need to remember. You must not lie to Kelly. She must get rid of the red ring. There will be spiders in the house and she must kill them. You must be patient with the little one Daisy and not push her down. She will fade with time. All others are gone. It is over.’

Rings set with a red stone featured through my dealings with Kelly. She recalled people wearing them during cult meetings, as well as having one herself.

Gradually things in Kelly’s life began to return to normal, she managed to eat a little, her thought processes cleared, she attended her children’s events again, and we breathed a sigh of relief. Kelly voiced concerns that she'd been here before with thinking it was over, but things were much better. So it seemed.

On the Saturday, Kelly went out with her children and we spoke briefly. On Sunday she was disinclined to say much. By Monday, Kelly, Daisy and myself were all uneasy. Wilf, the new ‘protector’ came through with further instructions for me, including that it would take time for Kelly to adjust, and there would be memories but that's all they would be. However, he said, I should not have much contact, leaving Kelly to cope more alone. I am the first person to encourage independence, but I grew suspicious of Wilf's motivation.

‘How did you know there would be spiders?’ I asked. ‘And who are you to tell me what I must do regarding Kelly?’ Wilf replied ‘OK, I can’t tell you what to do. I can only ask. But have I been wrong about anything yet, like the spiders?’ Kelly had complained of them in her house.

‘I wonder why that is,’ I challenged him. ‘When you speak to Marta, give her my regards.’

‘I am sorry to disappoint you,’ he replied. ‘I have no communication with Marta. I simply tell you what you should do. You don’t trust me. But just remember the red ring. Kelly must get rid of it.’

‘There are now three of us suspicious about this whole thing,’ I said. ‘Kelly, Daisy and myself. So do you like your new job, your promotion?’ From then on communication with Wilf went downhill. I thought of him as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he occasionally said something useful during the terrible times ahead. I have no idea if he is still there with some cult-relevant role.

Late one night I had an emergency email from Kelly not preceded by alerts from Daisy. ‘I am not home’ wrote Kelly from her Hotmail address instead of her usual one. She was signed in on MSN on someone else’s computer, as happened before. ‘Can you come on MSN?’ she asked urgently. ‘No' I replied. 'Can we do emails please? We can do it that way. We have before.’

We exchanged some frantic emails, myself using a text phone for prompt replies, also logging in on a more robust mobile. Marta sent me four lines of a poem, leading me to believe that Kelly’s life was indeed in danger, not from her giving up the ghost and committing suicide - although that was how it would look to anyone. This looked like a direct threat to Kelly’s life.

‘You just showed your part in all this. Big mistake. It’s not too late to retract.’ I replied to the spooky email address Marta was using.

All through my communications with Kelly, there was a theme that Marta did not exist in reality, that everything Kelly believed and said about Marta was based on delusion, confusion, dissociation or psychosis. Gradually, each robot or ‘protector’ alter put in place said the same: ‘There’s no Marta at all’ and ‘Turn off that phone.’

‘Help me, please. It’s me Kelly. What do I do? Please, please come on MSN,’ begged Kelly.

‘Just pray for what is right and just for yourself, and for all the others who are with you. What is happening is wrong.’ I named the younger versions of Kelly whom she did not consciously know, but I felt Marta would. ‘I can’t come on MSN in these circumstances. It is not good. I am sorry.’

What happened next was a surprise. ‘Where do I go?’ asked Kelly urgently.

‘Sorry, I don’t understand,’ I replied cautiously, liking this less by the minute. I actually thought she was asking if she would go to heaven or hell, such was the the scene in my mind. ‘No. Where do I go? She’s giving me money and someone’s car. I can go.’

‘Is your car there?’ I wondered if Kelly had been persuaded to drive to Marta’s in her own car. ‘No. Someone else’s. I can have it. But I’m not going home. Motel room?’

‘If I make any suggestions, someone else will read them,’ I replied and Kelly’s emails stopped for the night. When we resumed contact, she was literally on the run. Daisy said Marta suddenly stopped with a huge knife at Kelly’s throat. I wondered if something I did had changed anything. It turned out that when I mentioned praying for what was right and just, and Kelly’s younger parts, Marta stopped and offered Kelly money and the use of someone’s car. High drama, or what?

Kelly spent a horrendous week on the streets, doing MSN with me from cafes with Internet. When she returned home after the weather turned wet and she was soaked through, her computer had been moved to a different room, food was in the kitchen, a CD with triggering songs which she had pawned was by her computer. All her light bulbs were missing. Any one of these would be scary. I engaged with other alters who were unaware of the situation, and were not scared of the dark like Kelly.

Daisy said triumphantly ‘I smashed dat CD aunti, I brok it.’

And there was a police car parked outside. I have no idea what this whole episode was about.

Kelly once used a computer in someone else's house, being told to say goodbye to me, and said I must say goodbye but I delayed. When Marta came in the room, Kelly messaged she was hurting her, and suddenly my computer crashed and I lost connection. Three years later I learned that the reason for leaving Kelly in a room with nothing but a computer, was to demonstrate that no-one including me could save her.

Marta was apparently furious and tried to get round me by saying she was not a monster, she would not hurt people, and could we not become friends? She said we could all sign in on MSN and she could 'verify' what Kelly was telling me. I emailed Marta that anything Kelly said to me was confidential, and Marta’s suggestion was preposterous. Marta made Friend requests to me on MSN. Eventually I accepted and immediately blocked her from seeing me online. I could watch her signing in, often from outside Kelly's house where she sat in her vehicle sending messages from a phone or laptop.

Later Marta emailed that I could either work with her, or against her. I did not know at that time that Marta was a bully to Kelly to anything like the extent she was, and Kelly paid the price for my bravado. When I joked that I would sort Marta out. Kelly begged me not to frighten her with such remarks.

‘Does Marta hurt you when I send her a rude email?’ I asked. ‘Yes, she does,’ replied Kelly.

‘But I asked you before if she did, and you said no.’ ‘I don’t know,’ came the reply. ‘Ever since I became this sort of slave-thing to her, I suppose.’

I thought back to my curiosity relating to food Kelly said someone left, that she had not bought and could not cook. There was petrol in Kelly’s car when she needed it, at times when she had no money or credit on her cards. Plants appeared in Kelly’s garden, some triggering for her because of the colours and names. Saturday evenings seemed a time when Marta was around more than previously, perhaps because Kelly’s children were now discouraged from being home. Kelly lost track of the usual TV programmes she used to mention.

Basically, Kelly was unaware of links and activities going back many years. Somehow Marta managed to keep Kelly’s awareness and alter personalities in tight compartments, with some parts totally inaccessible and little seeping through to Kelly. I had known Kelly for four years, and wondered what else I did not know. Kelly was not the main person in the system, having arrived a long time ago during a crisis, yet having close connections to Caitlin the original host-person.

Caitlin was not present when I first came in contact with Kelly. Then Caitlin returned and interacted with me for some months, saying her goodbyes when everything became too much. Kelly resumed and became subjected to the totally inhuman and complex practices which form a substantial part of ‘the Book’. It is small wonder that Caitlin left again.

Who is This? Why do Such Things?

‘Kelly’s trashing the house,’ Rachel a ‘protector’ told me. ‘She is, she’s just trashing everything. She’s nuts. You don’t want to talk to her.’

‘Protectors’ in Kelly’s system often seemed to start out in a semi-protective role, then to degrade into parts resembling Marta. They seemed to appear after a prolonged session where Marta and Kelly were alone, which I believed involved deep hypnosis.

‘If Kelly does something like that, there’s always a reason,’ I cautioned.

‘The beds, furniture, everything, all over the floor. Enough. Stop her,’ said Rachel.

I had been away the previous evening, during which Marta had apparently taken advantage of the situation. It was often hard to tell whether there had been a full ritual meeting, or a smaller session involving a few men. Perhaps it was one man being sent to Kelly’s house, with instructions to play a tape of Marta’s hypnotic voice, after which Kelly would find it hard to talk about anything at all.

Kelly came online and we exchanged a few words. ‘Bathroom, brb,’ she said. ‘I did not fall’ she wrote when she returned. ‘I just thought you might worry if I was a little while, that I might have fallen. But I didn’t fall so that’s OK. I am fine.’

Whenever Kelly said ‘I am fine’ or ‘I am OK’, I went into alert mode as invariably it meant the opposite and she did not want me to worry.

‘Kelly tripped over some rubbish in the passageway, fell and banged her head,’ explained Rachel typing some question marks.

‘Hi,’ I wrote. ‘How are you?’

‘I'm Casey,’ came the reply. ‘I’m 13, and I get in a lot of trouble at school.’

We talked for quite a while and Kelly did not return. Rachel became impatient when another youngster came through and I talked with her also. ‘Are you having fun with this?’ Rachel demanded. ‘Pretending you are 16 and all this rubbish. What good will this do?’

‘They want someone to listen to them’ I replied. I was getting background information which was fitting into the picture like a huge jigsaw section.

‘Are you nuts?’ said Rachel. ‘No’ I replied. ‘Are you?’ Several so-called ‘protectors’ took this line with me over time. Mediation and patience are not my strong points.

‘Kelly is trashing this place, really turning it over, and you are wasting time with these young ones. What good will that do?’

‘I think it will help them and I believe it will help Kelly. She is trashing the place because someone tells her she is trash and everything she touches will be trash’ I wrote. Rachel went quiet.

I agreed with my new young friends that we could exchange emails if they wanted. Without going into detail or revealing what they told me as secrets, it appeared that Marta was known to Kelly, or Casey, many years before. Marta was older and a big influence in their lives, to my way of thinking not a good one. Now she was back causing havoc in Kelly’s life, but Kelly knew nothing of an earlier association: Just a vague memory of an older girl near her home with the name Marta.

Casey was a young, vulnerable, impressionable girl of 13 when she was befriended by this older woman. There were other teenagers in Kelly’s small DID system, but here I describe experiences from that period as Casey’s. If one of these young personalities reads this, I hope they understand that I have not told their secrets.

Casey looked on Marta as the sort of mother or older sister that she secretly wanted. Marta appears to have taken advantage of that vulnerability. Casey could be encouraged with a little monetary handout to get drunk with Marta’s male friends at small gatherings, or at full-scale adult parties where she was told she did not have to be involved in everything.

Eventually Casey and the other teenager/s began to say they were uneasy about Marta and some things they were made to do. I suggested they could think of things being better, or what they would do if they could. We said if only they could come and visit me, and things would be better when they were older, with their own friends.

Kelly had come on the scene a number of years ago to help out during a stressful time for Caitlin. There was a closeness and parallel between the two lives or personae without total awareness. Kelly knew about Caitlin the host, but Caitlin did not know of Kelly or what happened while she was in place.

What I am trying to get across is that it is possible to pull the wool over people’s eyes, especially if they have a mental make-up like Caitlin or Kelly, and make them unaware they even knew you before, forgetting or putting into byways things which might help them make sense of their lives. You can render them incapable of making proper choices, involving them in things they would never consciously do. You can over-ride the mental and emotional circuits, and effectively run - and ruin - their lives.

Much of it is done at a subliminal level like hypnosis, and drugs make it easier too. Add in the amount of mis-information and demoralising as to their having any normal rights, and you see how it could be possible. It is a tremendous feat requiring a lot of time, effort and skill to achieve and to maintain. Why would anyone do that to another human being, or even want to?

I was spending chunks of time online each week, trying to help Kelly in her situation. Marta must have spent equally huge chunks in order to maintain control. We seemed to be rendering her less effective, so she had to change some of her tactics.

Why Do Such Things?

I was generally curious why Marta was involving me rather than just sneaking up on Kelly in my absence. I received emails from Marta's new email address with a weird name saying ‘Have a lovely long weekend dear. Everything is fine.’

Marta stopped arriving at Kelly’s house expecting to get inside or to get Kelly outside. If I was online it simply did not work so well. Marta told me many times that I was interfering. She relied more on feedback from some alters she placed or encouraged, to know when I signed out or was not around. Then she turned up outside Kelly's house.

On occasions when Kelly and I were led to believe it was over, the hassle, pain, interference from Marta and the cult, suddenly we would know it wasn't. There were phone hang-ups with no message or speaking, or plentiful emails on strange topics. ‘Here come the emails’ the ‘protectors’ would say, and some deleted them straight away.

When the fairly new ‘protector’ I called Wilf came on the scene, he appeared to be considerate. I told him I was fed up being criticised and insulted by the robot and others, and it was hard for me to believe Wilf now. He told me various alters had the task of keeping me as far away as possible. Wilf then turned into a form of tyrant, sending a spate of emails telling me to turn off the phone alerts, to stay offline, that Marta never existed in reality. . . This was Wilf out of my good books and me out of his.

Kelly was now meant to die by apparent suicide, and Marta would take on Kelly’s powers, in some way achieving the ultimate protection for herself that she so wanted. See End Times Prophecy. Apparently when Marta held a knife to Kelly’s throat on the night Kelly went on the run, Marta was yelling 'I’m going to kill you now and take your soul.’ Who knows if this was high drama, if she really believed it, or why she sent me an email saying I had 30 minutes to explain why now was not the right time for Kelly to die?

Marta went from being aggressive towards me, to being flattering and wanting to be friends, to demanding why I was interfering, because she and Kelly got along much better when I was not confusing things. Sometimes she told me directly or via Kelly, that I was useless at what I did, that it would all be too much for me, and I did not have the powers or people to call on that she had. She admitted I was stubborn, and also made a strange admission that I had not managed to get Kelly to eat properly, whereas Marta had managed to prevent it while Kelly grew thinner and more ill.

How Did That Deal Go ?

Note: In Kelly’s past there was a degree of cultic ritual abuse involving some ‘satanic’ philosophy, but that is not the key issue. We need to move beyond that concept to reach the far shore. Someone apparently keeping Kelly involved with the cult was a woman whose path had crossed hers to the point where Kelly insisted on a Deal: that Kelly would not reveal personal and cult matters relevant to this woman I call Marta. In return she must leave Kelly alone - Did she though?

I became aware of increasing pressure to get me to simply go away, to stay out of what the situation really was. If I had thought Kelly was even a slightly willing participant in the cult, I might have done. How can someone like Kelly, whose entire life and emotions are being over-ridden by someone else, manage to extricate themselves? How could I leave someone in that situation if I could possibly avoid it and with a working computer and a brain?

I am aware that most of ‘the Book’ does not relate too greatly to ritual abuse as many people experience it. If you can read it, you may see the connections. Many of the principles of control are similar. People are largely unable to extricate themselves from a cultic situation, or even an unequal relationship with one person. Cults of any kind are web-like and hard to climb out of. People therefore need help with climbing out, if they can realise that is their situation.

If other people do not believe there is even a problem, they are unlikely to spend time and energy helping. If people do not talk about the issues, or there is a culture of disbelief and scepticism, things will not change. Because you or others have not experienced or heard of these things, and you would not do them, that is not sufficient cause to think no-one else would do.

Kelly’s life and traumas have been exposed here. She would never choose to go for a personal vendetta, and I would not have helped with such a course. That is not what we are about. I wanted Kelly to know that I was still around, and would continue if I could, but there might come a time when she would fend for herself more, or she might not want me there anyway. ‘You’re leaving me,’ Kelly wailed.

‘Marta said you would give up’ said a recent ‘protector-type’ whose loyalty I had concerns about. ‘It only took two nights to get you to give up the phone. You are compliant. I knew it.’ Compliant seemed to be one of their basic concepts.

‘So Marta, that person you claim does not exist, told you I would give up. How did she manage that if she doesn't exist?’ I replied.

‘You have been a strong opponent’ came the reply. ‘But see how you gave up. Two nights of ‘stop the phone’. No MSN in the night. Now this.’ This was followed by several LOL indicating his mirth and triumph.

‘What is funny?’ asked Kelly reading the LOL.

‘It’s just a robot thing being stupid,’ I replied, and we moved on to other topics. I never heard from that 'protector' again.

I always did think that, if anyone could stand up to what was happening, it was Kelly, but she was now so weak and demoralised that her 'real protectors' told me they were too weakened by the cult and memories, and had to rely on outside help. With inside alters which were inconsistent and fuelled by Marta, that was hardly surprising. It was a very longterm situation that I strayed into. Apparently there are other young women in Kelly’s area claiming to be involved in a local cult, but their attempts to get people to listen meet with blank denial.

Perhaps this is some bizarre joint delusion, not that there is a cult but that there cannot be, even when several people say there is. What is the delusion which says ‘We cannot even listen to this or try to explain it’? Usually it is called denial, or behaving like an ostrich. There are high numbers of suicides in the area particularly of young women, but reports do not appear in local newspapers. Kelly wanted to research the deaths in the library, but I felt that was an unsafe thing for her to be doing.

Bleak Times

‘It feels as though something just died inside’ wrote Nolly, one of the original ‘protectors’. Her main role seemed to be tuning into Kelly’s thoughts and interpreting for me, at times when Kelly found it impossible to express herself or even know what went on. She could sometimes see trouble looming and was usually powerless to do anything but alert me. When Kelly was going through hell on earth, I could have done with Nolly around more to tell me what was happening.

‘Do you think you can perhaps lighten the conversation? You managed it yesterday’ she said.The previous day things had been hard-going in my MSN chat with Kelly. She hoped that one day we would meet up. I told her something funny that I would be wearing, and she felt better that I made a small move towards that day. There was such a difference in our lives: I could decide what to do or not, whom to meet or not. I could say with some reasonable hope ‘That person is not going to treat me like that’ or 'I plan to do such-and-such'. Kelly could not decide or achieve these things.

During that week, Kelly had been feverish with high temperature and other symptoms, and emailed to say she really felt she should go to hospital. The sudden urge to go to hospital was a recurrent theme, but this time I felt she needed medical attention and encouraged her to take a cab to hospital. When she returned next day, I was expecting her to be feeling a little better for taking some control over treatment. But she was crying and very distraught.

The next day, Kelly said she had a nightmare that she went to hospital and had a little operation. This was a way of distancing herself from something that happened, which she now needed to think was a bad dream. She continued with this strategy for four days, even with a hospital bracelet on her arm. This blocking out or distancing meant she was not taking antibiotics to bring down the fever and infection. I suggested she look for some antibiotics to help with the pain in her side.

‘I did go to hospital, didn’t I? And that means it was not a dream. Is that right?’ Kelly wrote a frantic email before our MSN chat time. I emailed that I could come on MSN to explain, but waited online and Kelly did not join me. It was always difficult to know how much to stick to agreed times or be flexible. When we did meet up on MSN the conversation started well. With half-an-hour still left I was concerned we might not maintain the positive mood.

‘I am not smart like you’ Kelly whined. ‘Things are changing. And I make mistakes. I am not smart all the time.

'Everyone does stupid things sometimes,’ I tried to be realistic and reassuring.

‘Stop. You are smart and I am stupid. You just said so.’ ‘No, I said everyone does stupid things. You just took something literally,’ I persisted.

‘Well I do take things literally’ complained Kelly. ‘If I lend you money, you’d better pay it back the day you say. You just better.’

We continued this way with Nolly asking me to improve the tone of the conversation, but it needed to be spontaneous. ‘I’m going to lose my connection soon’ I wrote, trying to prepare Kelly that our two hours were nearly up. ‘What time tomorrow?’

‘You say. You are the one with secrets. I don’t know what you are doing’ wrote Kelly, piqued that her own life had dwindled to the point where her children hardly came home, and she was now unable to drive them back and forth to school or visiting their friends.

‘How about 2pm your time?’ I asked. There was a long pause. ‘Well that was not a good way for this to end’ wrote Nolly.

How does someone like Kelly pick herself and her life off the floor, when her welfare cheque has inexplicable deductions, when it stops altogether because someone reports her as working (she was currently unable to work), or it vanishes from her mail box? How can she pay bills, eat basic food, provide food for her children?

It sounded as if someone wanted her to give up completely, and not just from within Kelly’s small DID system. I always believed, if Kelly were left alone by Marta and the cult, she would be a fairly independent and good mother to her children, going through bad times and needing support just once in a while. This had happened before and I hoped it could again.

Time Will Tell

‘Aunti, Kelly going out befor Haloween come’ wrote DaisyMay, the young alter with a protective role towards Kelly - when Daisy was not playing a double game.

‘That might be safer for her’ I replied. I had agreed to be around in case attempts were made to call for Kelly and take her to a Hallowe'en cult meeting. This was despite the so-called Deal struck between Marta and Kelly a few weeks earlier, that Marta would leave Kelly alone if Kelly agreed not to talk about Marta and damage her reputation.

‘No aunti. Kelly going on streets agin. She had showr, put makup on.’ Daisy was upset. ‘Try not to worry, Daisy’ I wrote. ‘I still think that might be safer than waiting in, in case Marta comes. Or she could go to her friend’s house, or get a friend to come over.’

‘Aunti! Kelly going get gun, and needl in arm agin, die.’

‘I don’t think she will do that’ I began, and was interrupted by Nolly saying ‘Pardon me madame. The little one is saying what she knows to be true, and you are telling her she does not understand. Kelly will get a gun and crystal meth tonight. Surely you know that.'

'No-one told me properly till now' I replied, thinking back to the time Kelly was on the run and ending up in what she called a druggie-house, with the aim of buying a gun.

‘It is because of Daisy that Kelly is still alive. You should realise Daisy called the ambulance several times.’ This was during times when Kelly had taken pills in despair. Nolly continued with ‘Daisy would rather go back to Marta, but she did what you told her and stayed away. You need to protect Daisy. She is the key, she’s important.’

‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Kelly herself, coming through.

‘I said I’d be here over Hallowe’en. We agreed I would be around tonight till it’s safe,’ I wrote.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t stay till 4am. Get off my computer. Now’ replied Kelly.

Earlier in the day, Daisy told me Marta was sending emails, and I sent a facetious e-card to Marta saying she was breaking her side of the Deal. I was wondering if I should have stayed out of it, but I was trying to pre-empt her now approaching Kelly. Then I sent an email hoping that Kelly’s real ‘protector/s’ would help out.

‘Moment of truth’ came a reply headed Protectors. ‘You will meet together. Your paths have crossed. You do not know the future as I do. You will remain connected. After this night you will have surpassed all evil. You two shall work as one to promote justice. You will exchange documents. You must commit yourself now. It will be longterm. I need your answer.’

‘I've been happy to help but I will need to consider the future. Nothing can infringe my other work. My aim, when I work with people, is to render myself redundant, not indispensable. Anyway, where have you been all this time? Why did you wait right till Hallowe’en and I had to call on you?’ I was angry at the strange and high-handed attempt to put me on the spot.

‘Redundant!’ came the prompt reply. ‘You do not understand things as I do. What you did was your choice. You two shall meet. You will meet her family. I know the future. You need to protect the little one. You need to call her with a name connected to you. You need to call the little one by name. Use the name she knows, also the name that has a connection to you. The host will return on this special night. The evil will be gone. I know this. Use the name.’

I am no good at riddles, especially when things are confusing and fraught. The new/old ‘protector’ was not giving me information in terms I could understand, but it seemed important regarding the host Caitlin, the one who lived the life before Kelly came along to help.

‘It is urgent, call the little one’ wrote the ‘protector’, now on MSN rather than emails.

‘I’ve been in contact with a 6-year old, a 13-year old, a 15-year old and maybe another of that age. And with Daisy’ I added. ‘I don’t want to get the wrong one.’

‘Not Daisy’ came the reply. She is not of the birth person. The birth person will return. The thread to evil will be broken tonight. Call now. Here she comes.’

Not wishing to rock the boat and prevent the real birth person from being able to return, I wrote quickly ‘Hi Caitlin. It’s me, Lucy. Are you there?’ There was a long pause.

‘Ho is yo’ appeared on my screen.

‘Hi, it’s me Lucy, the bartender.’ I used a name Caitlin called me by in the early days when she appeared occasionally and briefly. Caitlin had said I was like a bartender in her life, someone who got told things that people wanted to share, then was gone again. ‘Ho is yo’ came the reply.

‘It’s me, Lucy. Who are you?’ ‘Kate,’ came the reply. ‘I want my mom. Ho is yo.’

‘How old are you?’ I wrote. ‘5. I want my mom. Wer my mom. Wer my dad.’

‘They aren’t far away. They’ll be back soon, ‘ I tried to reassure this little person.

‘Is this the bartender?’ At last I was in touch with the host, the person I knew as Caitlin.

‘Yes, hi. How are you? Not spoken to you in a while.’ Caitlin and I lost contact six months earlier during a particularly difficult time for her.

‘This place is a wreck. Where are my kids? Where have they been all this time?’ demanded Caitlin.‘

I think they’ve been with Pete most of the time,’ I replied. This was Caitlin’s ex-husband with whom she had an amicable arrangement over access and care of the children. ‘Did they change school? Why is this place such a mess?’

‘I think Kelly had a really hard time since you left,’ I replied. Things were a little tricky, as Kelly was sometimes aware of Caitlin, but Caitlin always said ‘I don’t know who Kelly is’, and was unaware of the cult and issues over Marta.

‘What’s the date?’ asked Caitlin. Not wanting to explain that it was Hallowe’en night I replied ‘October’.

‘OMG, it was Spring and now it’s Winter. Where was Summer?’ said Caitlin.

Daisy, the 5 year-old cut into the conversation with ‘Abodi say I must say bi now.’

‘There is only room for one little one. You must say goodbye to Daisy quickly’ wrote the ‘protector’.

Daisy left and I had further conversation with little Kate aged 5, which was flagging. Nolly came through urgently with: ‘Keep going. There’s knocking the door. You must keep talking.’ It was approaching midnight on 30th October, when I'd been told someone went round houses of cult people to take them to their special meeting. Nolly called it 'rounding' when people like Kelly were picked up in this manner.

Little Kate and I talked about kindergarten, playing with blocks, different colours we both liked. She said her favourite colour was purple, and the only colour to put with that was yellow. She was adamant the colour to go with blue was white. Eventually Kelly came online, much changed from her earlier belligerent manner. ‘Hi’ she wrote. ‘I feel sad for some reason. Where’s Daisy?’

‘I don’t know’ I replied. ‘Someone wanted her to say goodbye. I don’t know if she will be back. You can feel it?’ We chatted some more and she said she felt generally better. ‘Did I yell at you?’ she asked. ‘Not much, I don’t remember what about’ I played it down.

‘Well I’m sorry. I think I was mad about something though.’ I asked if she was aware the host-person had briefly returned. ‘If you sense that Daisy is not there, do you think you would know if Caitlin was near?’ I asked.

‘Caitlin was here? Yes, I think I knew that too’ she replied. ‘Does that mean I have to go because she’s back? I don’t want to go’ she said.

‘No, of course not. No reason for you to go. And perhaps Caitlin doesn’t want to be around all the while. You and I can still talk.’

We agreed to sign out now things seemed safer and calmer. Generally, when Marta or someone came knocking at the door for a cult meeting, there would come a time when they had to leave in order not to be late at the other end. Then Kelly would be left at home and safe. I told Kelly to email me if there was anything further that night.

The following day Kelly was cheerful on MSN. Caitlin came through briefly and I reassured her she did not have to stay longterm if she preferred. But there was no Daisy which felt strange. Just tiny Kate aged 5 who played guessing games with numbers and words, and who typed, or squeaked into the mic ‘I want my mom.’

I had further exchanges with the new/old ‘protector’ about my required longterm involvement in their cause. Kelly said she felt something was not right, in fact it felt very wrong. Her intuition was generally spot on. When I told her to trust her intuition, the ‘protector’ got agitated and said we were both mistaken.

There were some disturbing aspects. Marta had access to Kelly during recent hospital visits via an arrangement with some of the staff, when she would speak softly into Kelly’s ear. After these sessions, interaction between myself and Kelly would be difficult. The ‘protector’ claimed that the link between Marta and Kelly/Caitlin was broken, with the going of Daisy and arrival of tiny Kate. I wished he would tell me what to do about young Kate and the implications for Caitlin. But I was in agreement with him that ‘Time will tell’.

More Weirdness

There had been a spate of nonsense emails from Kelly with nuggets of truth in them. When her mind went into overdrive she wrote reams saying the same thing over and over. Nolly the ‘protector/interpreter’ would get concerned and apologise or say she did not know what was happening. ‘Is she breaking down?’ wrote Nolly after this batch. ‘I am so sorry for this. I do not understand. I think she has lost it. You can just go to sleep and ignore her.’

‘I don’t think there’s any need to worry’ I replied. Kelly seemed to be going round in circles, trying to keep her mind occupied on certain subjects and away from others. They made a kind of sense but it was gone midnight and I was tired from being online over Hallowe’en. The next night Kelly had no recollection of those emails or that her mind had seemed to be falling apart. She thought she had slept from 9.30pm right through the night and could not understand why she was tired.

‘She did not sleep at all’ wrote Nolly. ‘Is she going crazy?’ I replied ‘It’s OK. I know it probably feels like it to you. I think it’s part of a healing process. There’s no need to go into details of what she says. This will all take time. Kelly has powers of recovery.’

‘Who is ill? Your mom is ill?’ asked Kelly, coming in at the tail end and causing me to fudge a reply, which I hated doing. ‘No, she’s fine. What were we talking about?’

‘I don’t know. Just don’t talk about bonfires, ok?’ wrote Kelly. ‘OK’ I agreed.

The next night I suggested that two hours might be rather long for every MSN session. Kelly accused me of trying to dump her, a conversation we had many times, when out of the blue she felt I’d never be back. I had explained I was not likely to give up after four years, even if we did lose contact for a while. She had emailed that she felt I was giving up yet realised I was still around.

Kelly had been picking up things I was saying and turning them into an accusation, and this was increasing. ‘Look, if you say I am leaving, and I am saying that I’m not, you are implying that I’m lying, right?’ I wrote in exasperation after nearly 2 hours.

‘No, I’m saying you are leaving, not lying,’ replied Kelly.

‘And I’m saying I am not leaving, and if you say I am, you imply I’m lying. I’m simply doing to you now what you do to me, twisting things round.’ I took a chance.

‘I’ve had enough,’ wrote Kelly, signing out before my connection cut off. She wanted to be the one to do it this time.

Two hours later there were a couple of panic emails from Kelly, in which she swore, which was rare for her whatever the circumstances. ‘That - - - - - - - followed me. She did! She doesn’t drive that way. Marta followed me and waved at the kids’ she wrote.

I replied briefly to support her, knowing she was going out again shortly. Later there were more emails - her wallet had disappeared, and she had bumped into someone she knew, a psychiatrist she crossed swords with. ‘That stupid pdoc was there. And my wallet’s gone now.’

How can someone’s life get so involved, such changes in reality day-to-day, such bizarre events, such shifting sands with no follow-through? Kelly’s information was usually reliable, whether we could make sense of it or not. ‘Did he come anywhere near you?’ I replied. Perhaps his unexplained appearance had simply spooked her and she was confused.

‘He spoke to me, and I said have you got kids at the school, and he said no, no, and walked off. And I’d left my wallet in the car and now it’s gone.’ In the morning, I sent Kelly an email saying I had no idea what was happening, that I hoped her wallet would turn up, and that there seemed some link between Marta and this psychiatrist. Perhaps they were having a joke at her expense or trying to confuse her. Remember the saying ‘Just because you are paranoid, it doesn’t mean people are not doing things to you’?

Both Marta and this psychiatrist referred to me as a fake. Fake or not, I was doing my best whilst none too sure about them. There were no comments like 'Well just be careful and make up your own mind.' Years later, Kelly's new therapist called me a fake within minutes of Kelly mentioning me, but I think she already knew of my involvement.

Although Kelly sometimes told lies to protect me from something, or to protect herself from some awareness, she always had a quality of speaking true. Sometimes we never got to the bottom of things because they were so strange, or they changed so quickly. Sometimes we did, much later on.

Deals Within Wheels

‘Look what you just wrote. Maybe it wasn’t for me but I read it’ Kelly wrote in an urgent email. ‘Yes, I did write that. And I take full responsibility for it’ I began. ‘I wrote it for the so-called ‘protector/s’ of yours who have conveniently vanished again.’

After a week of disturbed nights and repeated assurances from Kelly, Nolly, and the new ‘protector/s’ that Marta and the cult were really gone, I informed the ‘protector/s’ that a high-handed approach to me was not going to win the day. They had tried to involve me in a longterm commitment, I should decide right now and not question, and they claimed to know my future. So I emailed to set them straight. ‘Protectors’ often showed themselves to be cult-loyal rather than helpful to Kelly.

‘Does this mean you won’t talk to me on MSN?’ Kelly demanded when we chatted to sort out the tangle. ‘No. It just means that I will commit myself up to a certain point, and then things will be on a different basis. I’ll still be here. We’ll still be in touch. It just won’t be quite the same as it has been.’

‘You had better give her your new rules. And if you are pulling out now just say so’ intervened Nolly.

‘What email address are you going to use. So you’re only doing once a week now. Which night?’ Kelly demanded.

‘Will you both please read what I’m saying. I wrote that email in response to stuff written by someone calling themselves your ‘protectors’. Maybe you can get in touch with them. I don’t do three-way stuff because it gets confusing. And I don’t take instructions from people. You know that.’

‘They had to test out whether you can be manipulated’ wrote Nolly trying to make the peace. ‘Very nice, I do not think’ I replied.

This reaction from Kelly was one reason I had not previously broached the subject of any reduction of our hours online. The situation had improved from the terrible and dramatic events that used to happen. If things reverted to that, it meant we would not win this war just yet. My hope was to release Kelly from her prison-like situation, then to render it impossible for Marta to do similar things to other vulnerable women. I knew Kelly to be in agreement with that part of it also.

‘I told you before that this not my war,’ I continued. ‘I can’t rescue you from it. It needs to be you who does it, and I will help where I can.’ There had been other issues, undercurrents and links, and much has been omitted for the sake of clarity and discretion but it all tied in.

‘But I thought one day you and I would meet, and I could thank you for what you did. Now you won’t do that’ said Kelly.

‘There’s no reason we can’t. Things will be a bit different. I'll still be here and we can email like we do. But I have to reduce my time on MSN.’

Kelly then wrote about her life, how she had been let down by so many people, how she had been hurt by various people and situations, and she did not want to risk being hurt again. ‘I don’t know why I trust you, but I do’ she wrote. But I’m going to be a recluse. I can’t risk any further hurt from being involved with people.’

‘I think people have to broaden out their base. That way it works better,’ I wrote, concerned.

‘Oh right, you mean if I am in contact with other people, you don’t have to spend so much time with me’ wrote Kelly, a tack we also had before. Kelly picked out a specific thing from one area, and applied it to others to prove her point that it must apply to X, Y, Z. When I pointed it out saying I did not remember the circumstances, she jumped on it saying I did not know what I was talking about.

I explained that I open things up for discussion, and it's for her to consider it, agree, disagree, or ignore it. ‘Are you worried that Caitlin might want to come back?’ I asked, wondering if one reason for Kelly's insecurity was the recent brief appearance of Caitlin the host-person, after a six-month absence. ‘I don’t know’ came the reply.

‘Well maybe she won’t want to be around much or want to stay. Now Daisy has gone I’m not sure there’s so much to deal with on such a regular basis.’ I was trying to see how Kelly felt about things. ‘I know’ she wailed. ‘You don’t have to go on about Daisy not being here.’

‘Sorry. But there was nearly a whole week recently when you didn’t say anything to me at all. It was only Daisy who did the talking’ I replied.

‘Then you got spoiled. That must have been nice for you’ came her response. ‘Actually I got spoiled with all the attention, didn’t I? That’s what happened. I just got spoiled.’

'And that so-called 'protector' told me he knew my future.' I was hoping Kelly would see my point.

'That's rubbish' she wrote and I breathed a sign of relief.

My view was that Kelly was pretty much OK if left alone to lead her life. Naturally, as she went through various crises, she could seem clingy and dependent. At other times the tendency was remarkably missing, leading me to feel she could indeed manage, and should be encouraged to think of not relying on others for ever. I occasionally rocked the boat deliberately and also by mistake, then stayed around to try to steady it up.

This was my attempt to get things on a different footing for us both. After all, I believed in us both. Time would tell what other things would happen. It bothered me that Kelly used to have a certain bounce and enthusiasm almost whatever happened. There would be a pause for a couple of days or weeks. Then something would happen and she was back breathlessly recounting something line after line. Now that had gone, including her innate ability to seek out other people or information that might help.

Something seemed different from the Kelly of a couple of years earlier. I was wondering how things would transpire if the host-person Caitlin dropped in more often causing me to lose contact with Kelly. Perhaps all this was a precursor to that, and I had no idea how Caitlin, a gentle and sensitive soul, might cope if she returned to the present day after 6 months in recluse for reasons of her own.

Musings And Meditations

Kelly said she was feeling weird after little Kate was on MSN. Kate was 5, not worldly-wise like Daisy, who was also 5 and was gone. When younger aspects of Kelly came through, Kelly felt weird and unwell, sensing a whispering in her mind. ‘Does it feel a bit like having the flu?’ I asked Kelly. ‘Ya, it does’ she replied.

Although some people show personality traits and seem predictable, most of us are a jumble of inconsistencies loosely strung together. We behave differently with our parents, our partner, our boss, or depending how we get up in the morning, or someone is rude and we react. Perhaps we have people around us who say ‘What’s up with you today?’ or ‘That’s different from what you said last week.’ Sometimes we talk things through with other people, or keep them under our hat in case they cause more problems.

Most of us have some awareness of what happened last year, last week, a half-hour ago, though there are likely to be things we bury deep down. With dissociation it doesn’t work like that. There is perhaps no continuity from one day or hour to the next, one experience to another, no linkage between parts of an experience. Integration is not the only or desirable answer. The person manages best in their own way, but it helps if others around them are not judgmental. Some people who dissociate know that they do not want to integrate, because it works better to keep some aspects of mental functioning and emotions separate.

Kelly did not seem as dissociative as some other people, perhaps due to a less confusing early life, I do not know, but there seemed a consistency. There was young Daisy who filled in some gaps. There was Caitlin the host-person who dropped in for brief periods to chat to her bartender as she called me. She was back for an 18-month period, then said goodbye and disappeared about 7 months earlier.

There was Nolly who took the role of interpreting to me what Kelly was feeling so I could understand. And a part which Nolly referred to as the robot or that idiot. The robot seemed to take a role of manic defence, thinking that everything painful that happened to Kelly was just plain funny. He was like a flip-side. He held a useful role in that he got riled by my attitude, and spilled the beans on what happened or was planned by the cult.

‘What happened to the robot?’ I asked Daisy a month before she disappeared.’ ‘Him gone, aunti,’ she replied. ‘You did it.’

‘What?’ I asked. ‘He was around making his stupid jokes, then I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Maybe he will be back.’

‘No aunti,’ wrote Daisy. ‘Him . . . him explode. You no get off the computr, him explode. You did it aunti.’ Since then, there have been a variety of robot upgrades, more sophisticated versions of my sparring partner. Throughout ‘the Book’ I have referred to ‘protectors’, and this could be confusing for readers or people with experiences like Kelly’s. Many people do have parts which act in a higher or protective role.

My perceptions of most alters who appeared in a protective role towards Kelly or Caitlin is they had some dual-role. They helped in some sense with the survival of ‘the body’ and mental functioning. As perhaps they lost contact with cult members, or were unable to handle complexity, they seemed to flip and tried to break contact between myself and Kelly.

People like Kelly are brought up in a culture with certain aims and practices which make it hard for the rest of us to engage with them. We don’t understand the thinking behind the practices, and may find it too unbelievable or plain horrible. The practices and beliefs in cult ritual abuse are similar in significant respects to what happens in many cultures, and are not so different from normal human behaviour, but are at an extreme end of a continuum. More accurately, at an extreme end of an extreme continuum.

I am no expert but in some African initiatory tribes for instance, young men go through experiences designed to separate them from everyday life and practices, setting them apart from their past, and others who have not been through them. It is my belief that cult ritual abuse is along these lines in a broad sense. People may study the heroes of classical Greece and Rome, or are drawn to the concepts of shamanism, as practised in other cultures or adapted for the West, or they feel an affinity with certain ideas or ideals. People choose what suits or interests them, taking what they feel an inner need for. Something in their make-up or experience drives or entices them in some direction, to help make sense of their lives.

Who can sit in judgement on another person for ways in which they differ from us or what we believe? What many people do not seem to realise is that some of the old practices still happen today, in our modern cities and towns, or tucked away deep in the country. Some of the old practices including sacrifice of animals and humans still go on. They did not go away in many other cultures. They have not gone away in parts of ours, or they have been resurrected. Yes, I've read the books which show how we only imagine they are here, and the writers make some valid points. We don't have the whole story and need to round it out.

Some people in today’s day and age in our own societies, claim for public consumption that these things cannot and do not happen, yet are themselves willing to engage in practices which are harmful, if not deadly to others. Look out for the vulnerable, look for those who dissociate, who are regarded as too crazy or flaky to be believed or worth heeding. It is certainly not all ritual abuse, but some of it could be related.

Look for those who ride roughshod over those who are weaker. You may not see it because there is a social veneer in place. They tend not to work as loners although some might. They may need to be part of a wider group to reinforce their beliefs and practices, and to get away with it in a sustained manner. I entered this field through hearing about multi-perpetrator abuse of children which involved pornography and violence. It was not connected to anything remotely occult, though these things happen there too. Children can’t fight back, neither can demoralised and manipulated adults.

People tend to a fascination about having extra powers, an extra something they have or can do, over and above the rest. They may work hard on their own development, read books, meditate, talk with others, watch films about fantastic feats or withstanding the impossible. Each one of us, as well as being a mixture of varied aspects, is not so far away from being inclined to do bad things as well as the desirable or admirable. We are under social or group pressures to be acceptable, while being personally curious or adventurous, and can easily get blackmailed or pressurised. Each of us can regress to when we were younger with different needs. People with sufficient know-how might use this to debase us, but not if we are careful or fortunate.

Sometimes the wish is to be accepted or successful, so we may get lured by cast-iron guarantees of rising up the ladder. Much of our current society involves extensive use of personal image and bearing, how one portrays oneself to others and achieves one’s ends, often over the backs of others less robust or cunning, or without family or contacts to support them in a wider sense.

Question: Why do you think firms advertise?

Answer: Because it pays off.

It is easy to get people to believe that they need to have, or to do something. If you imply by word, manner or deed that you have secrets others can have if they join your clique or get involved, you are on the way to being a cult-leader. We look for answers to questions relating to life or death, the meaning of our lives or life in general. Some people claim to have this knowledge and sell it at a price, in terms of money or at some cost or sacrifice. Victims either live somewhere near, or are otherwise accessible to those who want power, and are willing to denigrate others.

Principles which can be used to control others can also be used to undo control

Don't Shoot The Messenger

Sometimes there is a meeting between the two worlds. There may not be such a very wide gap between those worlds, between people living their ordinary lives and what is described here. We bridge the gap between ourselves and horror, with horror films and fantasy. Some people live their own horror, or that of other people’s making. If people agree to live through horror with real free will that is their choice. No-one else should make that choice for them, or take over the reins of someone’s life. Not all cults do these things, although some general principles may apply in psychological or social terms. Another analogy would be Mafia-type thinking and control. Inroads have been made into cleaning some of that up, after denials for many years that Mafia even existed. How things can change!

You can follow your own thinking and practices, changing your views as other information or experiences come along. There has been confusion in terminology, with much black-and-white thinking. If one attempts to use the word ‘satanism’ or ‘satanic’ one can get into a theological quagmire. What has been described in these pages was apparently ‘satanic’ based, with references to demon alters and more that is not mentioned, apparently important in attaining ‘powers’. There were many biblical references, and use of hymns with words and meanings radically changed.

Many fine minds have spent time and effort in decrying efforts made to get people to listen and consider these abuses. Why try to demonstrate that something has not happened or cannot happen? What if it can, and might still be happening? Would you really turn your back on all of it with a shrug, a brief phrase of dismissal? If you wish to term it ‘urban myth’, ‘satanic panic’ or any other clever-sounding phrase to categorise and file away uncomfortable material, then do so.

This was not a one-off situation of my hearing this from Kelly and believing unquestioningly. I heard similarly from others, direct from their experiences. If you prefer to think that Kelly was some nut on the net (her words), or I am some fake/nut who misguidedly believed her, that’s OK. There were many attempts made to persuade me that the main perpetrator Marta was just one of Kelly’s alters. But Marta engaged me online, told me her name and profession, wanted me to make Kelly forget things, and sent me screwball emails on high days and holidays.

The geography of the Hicktown where this all happened? I am in no doubt about that. People wonder why there is no physical proof of these things. Mostly it is covered up. Generally, people need to be well away from habitation. You would likely find them in dense woodland, near expanses of water, in clearings, or even deep underground. No-one hears the cries. It can happen in large cities too.

Only occasionally was Kelly aware of other women involved like herself, or of some of the men, and she tended to forget after the event. People at ceremonies are generally cloaked or disguised. Those attending are in an altered, or alter, state where little is able to pass from one area of the brain to another (see the work of William Sargant), or from one mode of thinking or behaviour to another. But the organisers need to be sufficiently compos mentis to carry things through, or else they would need people to ensure they are carried out on their behalf. Not all of these people need to be fully cult-connected.

Out Of The Woods?

Kelly had been demanding and helpless, expecting me to solve anything and everything wrong with her life, right now. Her voice and words resounded with blame, as she implied that I should do them because in her eyes my life was perfect, whereas she had no money, no hope, and so on. This alternating between idealising me and denigrating me was common with Kelly, but could be hard when my own batteries were low. She usually had consideration for people even when her own life was dramatically bad.

Nolly, the protector/interpreter of Kelly’s feelings, was also angry with me, listing things Kelly needed, and summing up ‘But nobody can tell you what to do, that is obvious. You always make your own mind up. And that so-called ‘protector’ has gone now. Kelly's scared you are leaving.’

Kelly wanted me to find an online course for her desired mode of being reclusive. She wanted instant information, instant this, solutions in all areas, including for her feeling worse than the days of Marta and the cult. I had pulled out all stops to keep Marta and the cult away from Kelly, using time, logic, intuition, extra time on dynamics, anything arising from online discussions, anything I read or heard. Some things worked better than others. As Marta was apparently not around, it was hard for me to see why I would not take more of a back seat. Read on:

‘My phone wires were cut outside’ came an email from Kelly after an unexplained break in communication. I wondered if Marta had something to do with the wires.

‘Here are some pictures of how I feel.’ Kelly forwarded some graphic pictures of a pit with jagged edges, and a mass of scribble over a diffuse background. ‘So now you know. And I can’t breathe, and there’s this awful feeling worse than anything I had before. You must make it better right now. Please, please.'

Nolly outlined some of what happened during the past week, and I was impressed by situations Kelly had handled intelligently and strongly on her own, more as she used to. ‘She wants to talk to you about them’ she wrote. Kelly had told me that somehow I made it impossible for her to talk to me, which I thought was because I tried to introduce changes.

I felt Kelly and I needed to broaden out from the tightly bound dynamics of Marta and the cult, and bring in concepts or views about the outside world. We had managed in the past, then it would disappear leaving an all-or-nothing, yes/no approach. Kelly had trouble with any kind of separation between herself and me, and blamed me for cutting her phone wires, or for sending her hate.

Kelly wanted me to help her start over, this time with her having a heart. I took a tangent on impulse, and referred to the warm-coloured hearth rug she was going to bring in from the shed. I wrote about a cottage with really thick walls, and nice little windows you could see out of but no-one could see in.‘Carry on with this, please’ wrote Nolly who'd been having a hard time with Kelly, no ‘protectors’, just a few little ones that were still there.

People like Kelly are often visionary, with things being very real to them. One needs to be careful not to use imagery which can be triggering or distressing in some unforeseen way. When this did happen Kelly would say ‘Please don’t talk about that’ or ‘Don’t use that word’, and I’d say ‘OK’ and go to something else. Once I raised a topic that was hard for her to handle and she seemed to disappear, so I returned to the previous topic which worked. Face-to-face it may be possible or advisable to delve more and see what happens, but not in remote circumstances.

‘Is that what you’d have? A cottage with really thick walls, so it’s never too hot and never too cold, and pretty little windows, and an old-fashioned little garden?’ I wrote. Kelly went on to describe lace curtains, the layout downstairs, a staircase with a bend, and bedrooms leading off a balcony. She wanted a sundeck front and back, whereas in her present house she hardly dare go outside and kept the curtains drawn to. This visionary house seemed safe - we struck lucky through necessity. ‘Thank you’ said Nolly. ‘This feels much better.’

I did believe something positive was happening and that it was worth persevering with a view to putting some of Kelly’s life into the past, and allowing forward movement. She told me most people have a filing system for experiences, whereas hers had broken. Next Kelly wrote about her life in another town some years back, with many dramatic incidents there which she coped with. She drew people and drama around her without doing anything for it to happen. There was a theme of standing up for herself or for others less fortunate or able. For all that Kelly was feeling a need to be reclusive now, I hoped things had gone through the bleakest part, and gradually things would happen for the better so she would surprise us all.