Introduction, Aline Terpstra, 19 March 2021 (updated on 14 September 2026)
This is part 3 of a collection of excerpts from Esther’s life story. It is advisable to read at least parts of the first collection of excerpts in order to better understand what is written below. The first testimony, about Nathalie and Lotte, shows us – alongside all the atrocities – how friendships are systematically destroyed within the world of the cult. This is part of their strategy. A child in a state of absolute inner loneliness is most malleable for the cult’s purposes. The second testimony concerns a recently processed memory, which was triggered when the cult used the programming number ‘66’ to her. Esther explains how, in an ingeniously malicious way, the cult exploits her most beautiful feelings (her love for a baby belonging to an attachment figure) to force the splitting off of a new personality fragment. Esther describes how, at another point, this part is brought to the fore again and trained through torture to carry out a cult task, in this case creating inner chaos. In the final testimony, Esther recounts the unimaginable cruelties committed against her by a high-ranking individual.
In the endnotes I sometimes give an explanation of what Esther writes, to make it easier for the reader to understand.
Esther's own story by Esther
Nathalie and I, Lotte and I
Alone. I think that word best describes the feeling I have about Nathalie. Everyone dies, falls away, runs away or can't be trusted. Alone is how everything started and how everything ends and in between there are millions of moments that deserve the same word. I can't do it anymore. Everything that the word alone contradicts I can't do it anymore. It hurts too much and the hope it brings every time is devastating as soon as it is proven that alone is still better. Alone is grip and certainty. It can't get any worse, alone is safe and secure. Alone.
She was lying there, on that bed, he was raping her and I was watching. I saw it when she came in, something was gone. The strength in her face was gone, like she knew she was going to die. She was crying and screaming and he was getting angrier and angrier. She wasn't thinking, she had lost herself. "Shut up" was all I could think. Keep still, we will die if you do not stop, but she did not even look at me, she was gone. Out of her body and out of her mind, she was dead. Even though she was still breathing and screaming, she was long gone.
I felt betrayed by her. You promised, I thought almost angrily and out loud, you promised to always do your best, be quiet, let what was going to happen happen happen. Only then might we have a chance to be together and talk for a moment, to feel connection for a moment, because she was the only one with whom I had ever really done that. And we had looked at each other and promised that we would stay together. If I didn't know anymore, she would tell me and I had promised the same. If it was too heavy I would make sure I got worse, then she could recover and she could recover for me too. It had worked a few times and we felt very strong. We won from them, while they were hurting us and beating us, we won, because we had a pact and they didn't know it. We outsmarted them because we could get them just so we could handle it and we stayed strong. We were smarter.[1]
Where was that moment? Why don't you keep your promise? Why do you scream and shout and not even look at me, I want to help you. I can't say anything, then I can't help anymore, you have to look at me, only then I can give you strength, which I still have. But she wasn't looking. She had decided not to look at me. I felt rejected. She was hurting, he was hurting her terribly, but I am convinced that this was hurting her more. The promise she had made totally fell apart and I felt alone. I'm alone again. She's gone. She's gone, I'm alone again. The feeling that all your hopes have been wiped out again is murderous. Devastating. Totally destroying what you thought you had left. Alone.
They beat her up, but it doesn't help, she keeps resisting and screaming. Hold her, says the one who rapes her. I walk over to the bed and know how to do it. I crawl above her head, get down on my knees and hold her wrists above her head. She looks up at me. Her face is completely flushed with tears and her eyes are completely panicked and looking for help. But her searching, panicked eyes are empty and her soul is paralyzed. She can no longer see my help or grasp it. I can't give her the help I so desperately want to give her. She has given up, I know that look. The look I never, ever want to see again. I'm not like that. I don't give up and it hurts that she does. Alone. She leaves me alone.
I'm holding her wrists with all my might as a last resort, maybe it will help. Maybe it will wake her up and help her remember our pact again. She looks at me as I squeeze her and then she looks away. She falls silent and for a moment I think that what I'm doing is helping and that she's switching.[2] Maybe a stronger part of her will take over and she'll be okay. She'll be back soon. For a moment, I feel hope. Not alone anymore. The hope that it will be okay again, like it has been okay so many times. But she remains silent and he continues. He doesn't become milder, he doesn't become less aggressive, he continues. When he's done, the two guards are allowed to go about their business. One with me and one with her and while I let everything happen I look at her, but she is still lying there like I held her. What a bag of salt, the man says while buttoning up his pants again.
They leave the room and I crawl back to her and start talking to her. Nathalie, why are you acting like this, what is it. She looks ahead with empty eyes. She blinks once and breathes, but she says nothing. Why don't you look, you have to help me, I say very selfishly, thinking of our agreement. Again she doesn't look up and again I feel very alone. She has really left me alone, she doesn't even bother anymore. I sit in a corner and almost fall asleep. She remains lying there unmoved all this time. It gets dark and they come back. We get a sip of water and I see that she wants it. She drinks, she gets her energy back, I think for a moment. But as soon as she stops drinking she lies down again and doesn't move anymore. I don't understand it at all. Now he comes to me, and the other two men that are there get permission to do what they want.
The main character lives it up, but I still don't understand what's so bad about him. It hurts, I definitely break down and he is sometimes aggressive, but not worse than some others. When I look to the side I see that the two men first both rape Nathalie and then put all kinds of things into her. They have fun when they put their gun in from below and they have fun when they put everything deep in her throat.[3] She sometimes makes sounds, but she doesn't do much. I wonder how she does it. I gain admiration for her persistence and courage and regret the thoughts I had had before. Later, one of the men sticks that gun in from below again and then he shoots. I almost come loose from the bed as that heavy man almost makes me choke. He's still working on me, but stops for a moment at that sound. Nathalie makes a very weird sound and the men laugh. Hey slow down man says the main character. Yes, they say back. A man rapes her again and then he says, so it worked.
They walk away and, once the main character is ready, he tells me to have a wash and feels Nathalie’s neck. I wonder why, but I don’t dare ask anything. When I come back from the shower, she’s gone. There’s a large pool of blood on the bed, and when I look out of the window, a bag is being thrown into the boot of a black car. I don’t know where she is; I want to be with her, to talk to her. To ask what’s going on, but she’s nowhere to be found. When Cult Perpetrator 2 comes to fetch me, the main character and he walk towards the car and I follow behind. The main character says that this is the one, and he opens the bag and I see Nathalie lying there. Completely pale, and I realise she’s dead. Cult perpetrator 2 says, ‘Well done, lad,’ and gives me a wink. All the blood drains from my body; the ground gives way beneath me. I’ve killed her. It’s my fault. I was too caught up in myself. I’m alone. It’s my own fault, but it’s because of me that I’m alone.
That was 1989. I did have a support person in ordinary life, I was not completely alone, but she took care of me. She could help me, but I couldn't help her. It was a one-way street. Being friends is not a one-way street. Neither is selfishness. Being friends is not being alone, but I decide: from now on I will stay alone. I had the same agreement with Lotte. I had given up my child, but hers would continue to live. I would help protect it and she would help me if I needed it. When she wasn't there anymore, I would look after Lenie and do my best for her. We both knew what that meant.
It cost me my child, but hers was saved. Hers was far more likely then. She had been obedient. I was not.[4] But I haven't kept my promise with her in a long time. She helped me once when I didn't bring someone, she said she would bring someone tomorrow. She picked up a boy who was used and then disappeared. She did that for me. He knew her face, not mine. He got hurt because of her, not me, she was at risk, not me because I didn't want to cooperate. I couldn't and I was busy not coming and coming. It didn't work. Living in two worlds is just not possible. But when the pills ran out, I had to go again and I did everything extra good, extra strong, to be credible. I saved her by hurting someone else terribly, until he died with the whip in the group. I can still hear the screaming. But we were safe.[5] And now, now her child is dead because I'm not coming[6]. Don't make up for it and pushed her aside because I kept going.
I broke my promise, failed to protect her child and lied. I've seen the hate in her eyes. The hate she has for me that will never leave my retina. The hate that is burned into every fiber of my body. Alone. She alone and I alone in 2 different worlds. Alone, without friendship and she alone without a child. My fault. I know how it feels to lose your child because someone else is so incredibly stubborn and thinks they are stronger. The opposite is always true. Yet your child is long dead by the time the other realizes it.[7] It has no value, it is emptiness and pain.
I'm not going back. I'm not making it up. But the more I realize that I can not make up for it. Friendship is something destructive, friendship is made to destroy and hate each other, because it can not succeed. Impossible. Alone hurts so much and is so worthless, but alone is still the best. There can be 100th people around me people who are really sweet, who I love too but I will always be alone.
Childbirth suture diagram H, 6 years
H is giving birth in the room. I’m sitting next to her. I watch the little head coming out and I’m surprised by the expression on H’s face. She’s clearly in pain, but as a 6-year-old, I see all sorts of things but can’t put them into words.I’m worried about H. Nobody is helping her; they’re just making noises, as if they’re humming. Everyone is standing there watching and doing nothing. I see the hair and the head going in and out between H’s legs. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s so big.
When the little head won’t go back in, cult member 2 tells me I must catch it and mustn’t let it fall. The baby must end up in my hands, not on the floor. I take my task very seriously and cup the little head with both hands, determined to catch it. It’s warm and slippery and feels grubby, but when I’ve got it in my hands – letting it slip partly onto the floor, though nobody notices – I look at it and feel such admiration. Cult member 2 cuts the cord, the umbilical cord. I think ‘cord’ – it looks strange – but once it’s severed, I automatically pull it towards me. I cradle it in my arms just like my doll. I feel an immense love welling up inside me and want to hold it and cherish it. I’m given time to look at it and stroke the cheeks of this little boy. I’m unaware of any harm; I’m simply filled to the brim with warmth and love.
‘J calls out, “Come here for a moment with the little one,” he says in a gentle voice. I feel proud and take the baby over to J, and only when I’m right next to him do I feel a sense of fear. ‘Give him to me,’ he says to me. I place my little baby in his hands and, instinctively, my stomach churns. I feel sick, but I’m not quite sure why. He lays the baby on the altar and lets me look. I walk away towards H. Deep down, I know I won’t be able to hold him in my arms again. ‘Wait a moment,’ says J, ‘come back here.’ ‘Do you love this little one?’ he asks. I nod vigorously, hoping I’ll be allowed to hold him again soon. Hope rises rapidly inside me, like a mountain. ‘He is for the highest of kings,’ he says. And he pulls me towards him. I stand there between the altar and him, looking at the tiny baby who’s crying so hard. He needs love; he’s cold because of that cold thing, but I don’t dare pick him up. J holds the knife over his tummy and says I can give him to the Most High. ‘Everything you love must die,’ he says. ‘That makes the great king happy. Go on, cut.’ I look at the little boy and, somehow, all feeling drains from me. I know I can’t say no – I don’t dare, either – but everything inside me is holding me back. J takes my hand and together we cut open the belly. The baby’s scream is immense and very loud, and then he carries on crying hysterically, wailing. ‘Here, have a taste,’ says J, and he pushes my head towards the baby’s tummy and I lick up the blood. Something clicks inside me and I feel different. I’ve gone hard. The taste of blood turns me on and I switch to robot mode.
J takes the knife and cuts open the chest, whereupon the baby falls silent. He holds up the little heart and everyone cheers. I’m handed it and have to take it to H. H glares at me angrily and snatches the heart. I suddenly feel very distant from her; it hurts. She eats it and I watch, unable to understand. She is so cold and so unfeeling. I feel utterly alone and everything is a mess. When I sit down next to her, at the side of the room, everything that’s still happening passes me by. I’m confused. That sweet little baby – I wanted to hold her forever – but the feelings are so complex, so overwhelming. I can’t make head nor tail of it. It’s too confusing, and I’m left to deal with it all on my own. All alone in the world.
When the service is over, a tall man comes over to me. He’s smiling kindly. Later I learn that this is HX. He takes me to the dark corner. The corner where the demons are always eavesdropping and where it always feels really scary. The corner where I’m always completely honest, because everything is seen and they always know everything already – and keeping anything to myself could mean I’m not allowed to go home. HX drops to his knees and looks at me very intently. ‘Where’s your new boyfriend? I could see you were falling apart – where’s the loose piece?’ I feel a sort of air bubble bubbling up and he says, ‘There you are! Your name is 66, I’ll be calling you soon – now go to sleep.’ ‘Sabrina, move on,’ he says, and she stands up and walks over to cult member 2 to go home.
A little while later, we’re in the white house and HX comes in after I’ve been raped by another unknown man. I have to lie on the iron bed with my eyes closed. He says: ‘66, I order you to wake up and look at me.’ I realise that my body is completely not my own and is doing whatever they want. I open my eyes and look at HX. Sober, without feeling. He says something and shoves the hose into my mouth. He can just reach the tap and turns it on. As he lets the water run through the hose into my throat, he says, ‘66, you won’t drown. Use the sensation in your throat to throw everything inside you into disarray.’ You’re turning everything upside down. The cupboards[8] you turn over and make a mess. You're the mess. Then you wait. The tap goes off for a minute and I can breathe. I'm grateful for the breathing. I nearly got knocked out. When the waiting is over, he says, and the faucet comes on again and the water comes down my throat hard. When the wait is over they have cleaned everything up. Look, is everything tidy? He nods no. No not now, HX says, but when you do this and wait, everything will be neat again. You'll be making a mess again. Go ahead.... If he doesn't gag and gasp for air, the tap goes off again... I watch him from a distance and see what happens to the body. He comes back, I can see it in his eyes. HX says: Well done. That's how you do it over and over again, until there's no more cleaning up and then you can go back to sleep. He nods. Need to feel how it feels again. He nods yes and the faucet goes back on and I see it disappear, as if resting on the face but the arms and legs are completely stiffened and don't match the face. HX turns off the faucet. He looks and HX says, I order you to go to sleep until I call you by your name. The face is as relaxed as it can be again for a few seconds and then I'm back. I'm scared. I feel overwhelmed but don't know why.
‘Hey, sweetheart, you’re a bit wet – I’ll dry you off.’ He rapes me with little tenderness but a great deal of physical violence. I lie there as he leaves and don’t move. I’m confused and my stomach hurts. Perpetrator 2 comes in and tells me to come with him. We’re going home. I can’t manage to do the jigsaw puzzle; I’m in a daze.
On chair
There’d been a party all evening. They’d been drinking and laughing, and having sex with us whenever they fancied it. I was tired and had dozed off a bit in a corner. C saw me and pulled me to my feet by my tail. ‘Come on, come with me,’ he says. Whilst holding onto my tail, we walk down the corridor to his room and he puts me on the chair opposite his bed. ‘Sit,’ he says, and I sit down nicely. He goes to the bathroom and does his business there. A moment later, he comes back to the bedroom wearing only his boxer shorts, and I feel another part of him spring forward as he speaks. She understands him; I only understand a little, and he’s very strict, so I have to be careful. He tells me to lift my legs up, put my feet on the chair and wrap my arms around my legs. He demonstrates on the edge of his bed. ‘Good, good,’ he says. I think I’ve understood ‘stay’, but I’m not sure.
Meanwhile, he’s watching telly, half-sitting in his bed, and I’m sort of sitting in front of him with my legs spread apart on a wooden chair, watching what he’s doing. He’s flicking through the channels and completely ignoring me. I’m not quite sure what to do, where to look or how to act, and I feel incredibly insecure. After a while, he suddenly looks at me and speaks to me, but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. I feel a certain shiver run through me, a sort of unpleasant premonition; the surroundings seem to be changing. Then he gestures for me to come over, and I stand next to the bed, level with his shoulders. He looks at me, pulls me onto the bed and throws me down halfway. He sits on top of me, reaches up and gives me a really disgusting, slobbery kiss. After that, he pushes my legs apart and has sex with me. It’s not all that scary or unpleasant; what’s worse is the atmosphere. A sort of intensely unpleasant, tense atmosphere where you don’t know what the next move might be. As if you have to be on your guard, in case he might strangle you or suddenly shoot you at any moment. But when he’s finished, I have to get back on the chair. He speaks in short sentences and just points, but I know exactly what he means and sit back in the position he orders. As I sit there, I feel the semen running out of me and see it lying on the chair. After a while, I’m sitting in a sort of sticky puddle. Later that night, I play with it a bit. The tugging sensation caused by the stickiness is sometimes pleasant because it’s slightly painful. My skin tugs tightly now and then in sensitive areas, and that’s quite nice.
C falls asleep. I can see him becoming more and more relaxed, and at one point his breathing becomes audible. I’m impressed by how it all happens. I’ve seen it so many times before with Cult Perp and Cult Perp 2, but everyone is different after all, and it intrigues me. It distracts me. I’m starting to feel my legs; they’re getting heavy. I had to spread them wider and hold them in place. With my feet on the chair, my back bent, and my arms holding my legs still, I can’t move. That’s fine for a while, but now they’re getting heavy. I can also feel the wooden slats of the chair digging into the small of my back, and my body is simply tired and seeking support. Because I know C a bit, I don’t even consider shifting position. I don’t even think about brushing my hair out of my face, a strand of which is tickling my nose. Even when I feel as though a spider or some other little creature is crawling on my back, I don’t dare brush it away or rub my back to relieve the itch. I don’t move; motionless, I remain seated in the chair and watch that man, who is lying there sleeping contentedly, as he sleeps. Hoping he won’t wake up. Hoping this will suddenly be over. If he wakes up, he might be unpredictable again. Whilst he’s asleep, I have to keep this up. I’m trying to work out which I’d prefer, but I haven’t decided yet.
My back and pelvis hurt. I have cooled down so much by now that I don't feel the cold, but I do feel the stiffness. I might not be able to move anymore and if I can, it will hurt. I already know that for sure. My joints feel frozen and I feel my bones in places I didn't know there were bones yet. My groin hurts from using my muscles to keep my legs from falling and my hips hurt from the cold. My back doesn't know what to do anymore and just sits there like a bent pin. Defying the pain. Somewhere, sometimes the pain gets really nice. Then it becomes so intense and so abundant and then I go with it. I hurt myself with it. As if I put my finger in the fireplace and keep it there just a little too long until the skin is blackened. How many times I had done that. Just a moment of intense pain sensation. Okay, that could only last for a short while, but this had the same way, only much more intense. The pain in my pelvis kept me awake, kept me alert. It was already getting a bit dim outside, I saw through the cracks of the curtain and I got hopeful that it would be over soon. But I didn't want him to wake up either. I hoped he was dead, but that also caused problems in my head, because then that was my fault and when would I get off the chair?
It took me hours before C woke up. First feeling for a while, swallowing, using his mouth because he was thirsty probably and falling asleep again. Before he got out of bed it took even longer. It seemed to take forever. Now that it was so close that the night was over, every minute was like an hour. It was beyond me, I couldn't take it anymore and held on to every minute for just a little while longer. Almost. I'll make some noise and wake him up. I hope he wakes up suddenly and hurts me terribly and then leaves, then it will be over faster. Everything went through me. Everything I had fought for that night. Being obedient, avoiding punishment and letting him sleep, was exchanged for wishing for very severe pain and punishment. So that this would be over. Finally he woke up, he looked at me as he rose slightly and got out of bed. I waited for him to give me an order, but he didn't look at me a second time and walked past me to the bathroom. I heard him pee and suddenly became intensely aware again of how badly I needed to go. To my surprise, I later heard the shower go. It took forever again. I still didn't dare move. Apparently I was still not good enough and had to persevere. But I was also angry. I had done so much for him last night and then I have to sit here even longer. My body was exhausted and spent, my skin was intensely cold, I was hungry and needed to go to the bathroom and he was standing there under a hot shower getting clean. Very secretly I wiped my arm with my other arm. My skin felt weird, kind of plastic. I looked to see if he didn't notice while I was sitting stately again. After this I felt my hair tickle against my nose again and quickly brushed it away. At once I was afraid I would notice that the tuft of hair wasn't there anymore. I felt so bad that I had moved anyway.
After showering, he came to the room wet with a towel around his lower body and said why didn't I come and shower. He was angry. I wanted to quickly jump off the chair and run to the shower, but my legs could not support my body. I crashed to the floor and all my muscles screamed in pain. But I saw his face and forgot myself and crawled like a lame dog to the shower that was still on. I went under it, but the drops of the shower hurt intensely. They were like needles piercing my skin and the heat from the shower felt like I was being burnt alive and I passed out. I woke up to a few slaps to my face and the shower turned back on. C walked away and occasionally came back and did something in the bathroom and the room. I don't know what.I stayed in the shower and tried to feel my skin again and wash myself where I was so intensely dirty.
Suddenly I heard the door slam from the room and it was silent. I listened for a long time to see if I heard something, but he was really gone. After a while I got all the feeling back in my body and turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried myself off. I sat back on the chair waiting for someone to come and get me. I put the towel so I felt like I was sitting as clean as possible. I didn't dare sit on the bed, although I would have loved to be under the warm blankets so much.
All day C was gone, I don't know where he was, and I entertained myself in the room. I learned to enjoy myself with what was lying around. I felt more and more free to leave the chair for a while and regularly drank from the tap. Going to the toilet I found too exciting, because then I had to flush, but the shower drain also worked in a way. There must have been a foul smell in that room, but I was not aware of it. I sometimes peeked through the windows, but the window was on the side of a road leading to the house, so I didn't dare do that very often, afraid of being seen, and I knew that was really not allowed. There was a bag of peanuts on the nightstand, but I didn't take it. I was so convinced that it would be seen. I did poke into the bag, smelled it, but that was my limit.
The day lasted quite long, but I could also quite enjoy myself in the quiet of the room and not having to sit on the wooden chair all the time. I did go back to it again and again, but also sat on the carpeted floor and tried to experience the warmth of it. I didn't touch the blankets of the bed, but I did touch the towel that slowly dried up a bit and kept me warm.
I had become very tired and sometimes it was so quiet, that I stared and felt myself sink a little. I didn't let myself fall asleep, because imagine if someone suddenly came in. Someone sees me sleeping then the punishment is huge. It has already gotten dark when I hear noises in the hallway. They are men talking and laughing, but I don't understand them. The door opens and in the meantime I sit down on the chair like C wanted me to all night.
He looked at me, stood still for a moment, and came further into the room. He mumbled something, but not well understood, and hung up his coat. He spoke soft and sweet words, but I was very much alone and could not translate it well. German was not my strong language and he did not speak English now[9]. He grabbed the bag of peanuts, ripped it open and put a handful in his mouth. He put a little more on his hand and raised his hand to me. He offered them to me. The delicious peanuts I had been thinking about all day and could smell and almost taste were offered to me. I walked up to him and took 2 from his hand. Come on, and he spoke a German sentence at the end, but I heard in his tone that I could eat everything. I eagerly took all the nuts and ate them way too fast. They were so delicious. He took another hand and put the open bag next to him. If he now leaves, I would still secretly take one. I could not resist.
He looked at me and put his hand on the bed and knocked. I had to come and sit with him. I had hoped for the warm blankets for so long and now I was allowed, but he was there. I didn't want to as much as before. Then I obediently did what he wanted. As always, I did what others wanted and let their moods and desires determine my fate. He rubbed me everywhere and said things I don't remember. I carried away in my mind to this morning's shower and to the saltiness of the peanuts I could still taste in my mouth and find pieces between my teeth. I feel him lay me differently and put his fingers inside me, but I feel it from a distance. It doesn't matter what happens, I'm not quite there anyway. The next moment, he penetrates me. I tear up. I have a full bladder and wasn't relaxing anyway and it suddenly happened. Suddenly his heavy ungainly body on me. His chest hairs poking into my nose and his huge bulky body all over me. I'm not that big yet, he is and that really comes through when he does this to me. He plunges down next to me and strokes my cheek, saying words that sound sweet but don't arrive.
After a while he tells me to go to the chair and goes to the bathroom for a while. I go back to sitting on the chair with my legs up. I feel bad that I am sitting here like this again. That soft bed was so nice, even though what happened was not nice. I hope that by behaving well I can get back in bed with him and maybe he wants to have sex again, but that's okay. Then maybe I can stay in bed. He walks past me and gets into bed. He falls asleep like the night before and I feel the courage sink into my soles. I haven't had shoes for a long time, not even mentally. My thin soles are all I have left and they already hurt from the cold wooden chair. I feel so discouraged and so tired. I can't stand another night of sitting here not being able to go to the toilet and staying in this position, but again I am numb and can't do anything. It takes hours, it feels like days, before I dare to move a little. My hip hurts so much that I don't dare move anything a little later and I sit so still that peace and quiet come against me. I feel myself getting more tired by the minute and nod off a bit now and then. Sleeping in this position is very unpleasant and I give myself a kick in the ass time after time. Staying seated, staying awake, feeling the pain, just a little longer....
When finally a little light seems to come through the gap of the curtains again, I get a kind of victorious feeling. I made it, I made it through the night. Just a few more minutes and I can get under the hot shower. I agree with myself that I will have to crawl and that I will take the needles of the shower for granted and try to admit the warmth quickly, that is my goal. Then I can pee, then I can warm up, then I can sit differently, just a little longer.
Meanwhile C is snoring and I almost shout him awake. Wake up, it's morning, I can't take it anymore, but it takes so long, so intensely. Before I know it I am lying next to the chair. I have fallen asleep anyway and am lying next to it and C is sitting upright in his bed. My hip hurts so much that I can't immediately get myself up to sit back down on the chair and pretend nothing has happened, I can't. I can't even get myself up to sit down. I see the huge angry look on C's face. After this it is a black hole.[10]. He jumped out of his bed, picked me up from the floor and left me standing halfway up the bed because I couldn't carry myself yet and hit me once very hard in the middle of my face. The blood came out of my nose and because I know that blood on the floor is really not allowed, I immediately grabbed a towel that lay on the bed. He got dressed and took me along the corridor to another room.
He pushed me into the room where 2 guards were sitting and walked away. I looked at them and they laughed. What did you do hooker, was the first thing they said. I stayed where I was and waited for my fate. They continued talking and I tried to keep my limp legs straight and to endure the pain in my body. My nose was still bleeding.
After a very long time C comes in and says something to the 2 men. I can feel everything that I have made him angry and I feel so worthless that I couldn't stay awake for a while. Pussy whore I say to myself, you can't do anything right. I notice to the two men that I was talking out loud. I am taken by my upper arm to another room. It is the basement of this building and I am hung up by the chains on my wrists. I see myself hanging and C has sex hard as my wrists feel ripped apart. He is so terribly angry. I had woken him up. C then walks away and the 2 men grab me together that way too. I am half unconscious when I am lifted to the car and we drive to a special house.
I want to forget everything; I’m doing my best to forget everything, but I can see his face as if he were standing right here in front of me, and it won’t let me go. I feel the current; I’m trying to take in what they want me to, but his face is impossible to shake off. The pain in my hips is intense; I can’t banish this pain from my memory and it makes me feel vulnerable. The intense cold and the feeling of failure have pierced my brain like a nail, never to be removed. It has shaped me.
[1] You can read here the train of thought of a child that, in extremely distressing circumstances, still manages to forge a bond with a fellow victim. This is not allowed in the world of the cult, I have heard Esther say in many tones. Together with Nathalie, in the midst of all the horror, she creates a piece of human connection, togetherness, helping each other. This gives them the powerful feeling of 'winning' from the ruthless, dehumanizing regime.
[2] Esther hopes that Nathalie is switching. She means: switching to another personality part, which can take over the suffering of that moment. Like Esther, Nathalie undoubtedly had a dissociative identity disorder
[3] Besides vaginal and anal rape, the men also put all kinds of objects in Nathalie's mouth and vagina.
[4] Esther is referring here to a cult gathering in 2012 at which both Lotte and she gave birth to a baby. Esther’s child had to die, whilst Lotte’s child survived as an unregistered child.
[5] This is, just like Nathalie's, a wordless agreement between two victims of this murderous cult, to help each other. During Esther's process of disengagement in recent years, she obviously couldn't keep it, and some parts of her personality struggled with it enormously.
[6] During Esther's disembarkation process, 2 personality parts told me from their own perspective (a child part and a teenager part) that they were called by the cult. They heard Lenie scream and then they heard a shot. To verify that Lenie was indeed dead, Esther contacted Lotte, as Esther describes here.
[7] Esther means that one of the ways in which the cult takes revenge on someone who has left the network is by killing the child of someone with whom it feels connected. Often they are not able to get out after all, partly because of the guilt this creates.
[8] The term 'closets' here refers to the inner places where memories are kept.
[9] With 'I was alone' Esther meant that, because of the extreme stress, at that moment only one personality part was present in the consciousness. This part did not know the German language very well.
[10] Esther writes here that there is a black hole. At first this is true when she is processing this memory. The part of the memory that is still there, is too intense to be remembered as well. When the process of processing this memory proceeds, the personality particle that carries this part of the memory will join it and the rest will be shared and processed from the inside as it has been written down here.
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