Survival Of A Psychopath…(With Borderline Tendencies…The Condemnation, Part 1)

I’ve thought a lot lately. I’ve had a lot of time to think of my past with Daniel, his mother and Michael(the man who bought the Chelsea home.) They bring a lot of anger to me. A lot of sorrow. A lot of pity I think of too, when I think of their motives and the type of people they are and the lives they live. Their relationships. Do their families really know what type of monsters they are? Do the people they associate with really know who they are? The shams, the cons they pull and get away with while they laugh with their friends over what they do to people?

A thought came to me recently. It was a memory of after I had sold the house to Michael. It was about a week after, and I had driven down Chelsea one last time before leaving the area for good. As I was turning the corner where Mike lived, there he stood. He stopped my car. I stayed in it, and kept the motor running.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted from me, but I wasn’t going to stay long, that much I was sure about.

The first topic he wanted to talk about was Daniel. He told me that Dan was “looking good, doing well, and functioning really well. I should get back together with him.” I just looked at Mike. Blankly. I wasn’t going to get into any arguments. I wasn’t going to get into any discussions with this man. I knew he was best friends with the family. Together, they had undermined me, or so they thought, and disposed of everything I owned, had the house condemned and forced me to sell it at land value.

I thought carefully before I responded. “I’m not interested in Daniel at all. He and I are finished. Surely you are aware of that. You must know I have a PFA against him.” I looked at him evenly as I was saying these words. He couldn’t tell by my response whether he was getting through to me. He persevered. “He’s really looking good tho”, he continued. “He’s filled out, gained weight, off the drugs. He’s out of the rehab program too. His Momma would love to have you have him back.”

Now I’m really laughing inside. What was this man thinking? Was he kept out of the loop by Sandra? Did she pretend to be his friend, while all the time also sticking it to him? This was going to be interesting, and again, I chose my words carefully. “His mother? Sandra? You’re her friend Michael. Not me. After all, she was the one that wanted you to buy this house.”  Besides, what part did this man not understand? I had a Protection From Abuse Court Order against Daniel . Why in hell would I want to get back together with him?

Then the truths started to pour from his mouth. Although evil begets evil, and a liar always befriends a liar, those that are similar to one another, can never trust each other. He began to realize what Sandra had told him maybe, just maybe wasn’t all the truth. Maybe, just maybe, there were lies mixed in. Maybe there were half-truths in there. This was his chance to find out. If he was truthful with me. Michael knew me well enough for those last eight years to know what kind of person I was and he knew I was not the lying person. What ever I was going to say, was the truth. If I admitted anything to this bastard at all now. That was his problem. He didn’t deserve a word from me and he knew it.

The ball was in my court. Whatever I did decide to admit to him from now on was purely my decision. My eyes glinted and he knew it. I turned the motor to my vehicle off. That was a clue to him. I sighed, leaned back and smiled sardonically. That was a second clue. Now he knew something was wrong. I always use the saying “Karma is going to get you” and it’s true. I didn’t have to say it this time. He knew. I turned to him with pity in my eyes.

He tried one more time to win. There was a gentle, unassuming, benevolent, philanthropic  man in the city that had aided me during the past two months. The zoning officer that had condemned my home had introduced me to him. Forced to put the condemnation on my home, he told me he saw how I was railroaded by various people. He saw what had really happened to me. He told me that he went home the night before and couldn’t sleep.  He asked permission to introduce me to this special person. I asked why. After these harrowing times, why would someone want to help me? I didn’t want to trust anyone. But the zoning officer seemed honest enough. He had tears in his eyes and literally begged me for permission to give my phone number to this man. I finally agreed and left for the store.

Not ten minutes later my cell phone rang. It was him. This kind gentleman. The one who had hidden me while Daniel was trying to find me. He had supported me with no strings attached. Once he had heard my story of Daniel, his mother Sandra and the horrible things they had done to me, he was ready to aid me. Mike knew this man also. As an acquaintance.  Michael wanted to really know this person as a friend, but couldn’t get into his circle. To be honest? He just wasn’t a good enough person. Mike couldn’t make the cut. And it bothered him. Because he knew people knew of his wrong-doings. Like I say, what you do always catches up to you.

“How’s so-and-so?” he asked. “Still with him?” The nosy town had assumed we were a couple. We weren’t. I wouldn’t give out any information about this person, other than he wasn’t in town at the moment. Michael made a sexual reference to him, actually a non-sexual reference to his ability. I just looked at Mike, again with pity. “You’re really grasping at straws, aren’t you?” I said. “What would you know about his sexual prowess? Why would it concern you?”  For some reason, the way I answered must have hit Mike in a way that made him back down immediately. He apologized and said that I was right, he didn’t know him, but I did. In whatever way I did. And that was private and no one else’s business. I told him that was correct, and I would be sure to pass that little conversation along back to “so-and-so”. That alarmed Mike. Now frightened at his own arrogant words, he realized what he had said and if it did indeed get back to that person, his chances of ever getting into the right circles that he wanted to be in were closing off.

As I said, Mike knew he wasn’t winning this conversation. But he knew he now owned my former home. He knew he had destroyed everything I owned inside of it. He knew he had disposed of any antique, any collectible, all of my clothing, all of my pictures, all of my writings, furniture, you name it. Everything. I can’t make this clear enough. Everything I owned he disposed of at his own free will. What he decided to give back to me was damaged with glass shards and human feces and urine. The damage with the feces, urine and glass shards I was to find out in a short time later.

The last question he asked me was if there was anything I wanted to let him know about the house before I left. Now I was ready to hit him verbally. Quietly. But between the eyes. Michael thought he had bought something that was a goldmine. He, along with Sandra thought they were going to put me on the streets by taking my home out from under me. There was something they all didn’t know. They didn’t factor in Daniel, the son and what he had done one year before to the house when he would break into it.

There were over 200 documented break-ins to the Police Department the year earlier. I had a PFA against Daniel. A PFA is a Protection From Abuse Order. It is a legal order from a judge that gives a person relief of a documented distance that another person is to stay away. They also must no contact you, whether by electronic means, telephone, in person, etc. The PFA meant nothing to Daniel. He broke into that house over and over and over. The damage he did to it inside was horrific.

On the day the court judge ordered him to leave the home because of the PFA, his last words to me were, “I won’t rest until you are homeless, penniless and foodless.” He tried. Oh how he tried. Mike was about to find out about how well he tried to make that home so horrible to live in it had to be condemned.

Like I always say, Karma is a bitch, and it’s gonna get ya.

Peace.

Sorceress

All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License

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