Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 53
“Hell, no. I could do much more than that. I already have seen how poorly the supplies are managed by working in the warehouse. I think I could help them utilize…” Tony went on to describe his plan for supply logistics.
“Don’t you think that any of the other inmates could do the same?”
“I’m sure they could, but they haven’t.”
“Why do you think that is?” Jim asked.
Tony thought about that. “I would assume that most people don’t believe the prison truly wants to accentuate our abilities.”
“Do you think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I want to find a reason to get up every day. I used to hate to sleep, like I was missing something. Now I would kill to get a good night’s sleep.”
Jim grinned. “As a rule of thumb, in a prison anger-management session, saying you’d kill isn’t a good idea.”
The tips of Tony’s lips perked upward. “Yes, I didn’t give that much thought. Perhaps it’s my lack of sleep?”
“Between now and your next session, I have something I want you to do.”
Jim had never asked Tony to do anything other than arrive on time. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.
“I want you to think about who or what disappointed you a year ago, and I want you to decide if you’re going to trust me with that information. If you decide you’re not going to trust me, I want to know why. Can you do that?”
He didn’t want to do that. Tony didn’t want to think about a year ago. He didn’t want to remember how great he thought he and Claire had it at the estate, how she’d accepted his ring, how he thought she was safe. He didn’t want to remember the crushing sadness at her disappearance or that it was Catherine who turned their world upside down. Not only did Tony not want to share that with Jim, he didn’t want to share it with himself.
When he didn’t answer, Jim asked again, “Anthony, can you do what I asked?”
Was failure an option? “I’ll try.”
“My Life as It Didn’t Appear, Chapter 6…
Actions have consequences. It was a phrase I heard over and over. There were negative consequences and positive consequences. Everything I did or said was evaluated: by Anthony, and by me. I found myself walking on egg-shells at every turn. It began the moment I woke, and ended after I finally fell asleep. I didn’t want to fail: I couldn’t fail. I learned very quickly that failure had consequences.
The physical punishments didn’t continue with any kind of regularity after the first few weeks. They weren’t necessary. Though I was being treated in many ways, like a small child, I wasn’t. I was a college-educated adult who’d been placed in an extreme maze of operant conditioning. Something as simple as a look from Anthony’s dark eyes could still my words. The slight grasp of his fingers, lifting my chin would bring me to submission. I didn’t need or want to feel the slap of his hand. I learned the rules and strove to obey.
It was the fear of re-igniting his anger that continually weighed on me. There were days and weeks when his gaze remained light. Despite my circumstances, it was almost pleasurable living as I did during those times. I was still a prisoner, but one in a huge home with people to take care of my every need. And then, without the luxury of a warning rumble, the darkness would return.”
“Stop there,” Jim said.
Truly, Tony wanted to stop before he ever started. Working desperately to rein in the red, Tony placed the book on Jim’s desk and walked toward the window. The damn view only reminded him that he was just like the other men he saw walking from place to place. He was wearing the same khaki clothes and living the same hell.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jim implored.
“I’m thinking that I can’t wait to wear another color.”
“Really, after what you just read, that’s what you’re thinking?”
“Really,” Tony answered stoically.
“Then think about what you just read.”
Tony clenched his jaw, holding back the red that had just started to fade. “Are you trying to get me to explode? Is that your goal? Because I’m pretty sure you picked that fuck’n passage for a reason. Why don’t you tell me what that was?”
“What made the darkness that Claire describes return?”
“I have no idea. She didn’t give me a time frame. It said days or weeks. When the hell was that, exactly?”
“Well, we can assume it was early in her captivity. She said she was still a prisoner. She hasn’t mentioned leaving the house. When did she do that?”
“Read the damn book. It will probably tell you.”
“Anthony, how does this book make you feel?”
“You want to know? Fine, I’m so pissed I can hardly see straight. I’m pissed that it happened, and I’m pissed that she gave the fuck’n interview. This is private information. No one else needs to know any of this shit. Besides, it was a long time ago. Things change.”
“When did they change?”
“Everything was different after she got out of prison. It was all different. The penalty was over. I could finally admit… Fuck!” Tony collapsed in the chair. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”
“During those times of light, how did you feel about Claire?”
“I didn’t. Not in the beginning. I didn’t feel anything for her… she just was there. She had a job to do.”
“Don’t you think that any of the other inmates could do the same?”
“I’m sure they could, but they haven’t.”
“Why do you think that is?” Jim asked.
Tony thought about that. “I would assume that most people don’t believe the prison truly wants to accentuate our abilities.”
“Do you think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I want to find a reason to get up every day. I used to hate to sleep, like I was missing something. Now I would kill to get a good night’s sleep.”
Jim grinned. “As a rule of thumb, in a prison anger-management session, saying you’d kill isn’t a good idea.”
The tips of Tony’s lips perked upward. “Yes, I didn’t give that much thought. Perhaps it’s my lack of sleep?”
“Between now and your next session, I have something I want you to do.”
Jim had never asked Tony to do anything other than arrive on time. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.
“I want you to think about who or what disappointed you a year ago, and I want you to decide if you’re going to trust me with that information. If you decide you’re not going to trust me, I want to know why. Can you do that?”
He didn’t want to do that. Tony didn’t want to think about a year ago. He didn’t want to remember how great he thought he and Claire had it at the estate, how she’d accepted his ring, how he thought she was safe. He didn’t want to remember the crushing sadness at her disappearance or that it was Catherine who turned their world upside down. Not only did Tony not want to share that with Jim, he didn’t want to share it with himself.
When he didn’t answer, Jim asked again, “Anthony, can you do what I asked?”
Was failure an option? “I’ll try.”
“My Life as It Didn’t Appear, Chapter 6…
Actions have consequences. It was a phrase I heard over and over. There were negative consequences and positive consequences. Everything I did or said was evaluated: by Anthony, and by me. I found myself walking on egg-shells at every turn. It began the moment I woke, and ended after I finally fell asleep. I didn’t want to fail: I couldn’t fail. I learned very quickly that failure had consequences.
The physical punishments didn’t continue with any kind of regularity after the first few weeks. They weren’t necessary. Though I was being treated in many ways, like a small child, I wasn’t. I was a college-educated adult who’d been placed in an extreme maze of operant conditioning. Something as simple as a look from Anthony’s dark eyes could still my words. The slight grasp of his fingers, lifting my chin would bring me to submission. I didn’t need or want to feel the slap of his hand. I learned the rules and strove to obey.
It was the fear of re-igniting his anger that continually weighed on me. There were days and weeks when his gaze remained light. Despite my circumstances, it was almost pleasurable living as I did during those times. I was still a prisoner, but one in a huge home with people to take care of my every need. And then, without the luxury of a warning rumble, the darkness would return.”
“Stop there,” Jim said.
Truly, Tony wanted to stop before he ever started. Working desperately to rein in the red, Tony placed the book on Jim’s desk and walked toward the window. The damn view only reminded him that he was just like the other men he saw walking from place to place. He was wearing the same khaki clothes and living the same hell.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jim implored.
“I’m thinking that I can’t wait to wear another color.”
“Really, after what you just read, that’s what you’re thinking?”
“Really,” Tony answered stoically.
“Then think about what you just read.”
Tony clenched his jaw, holding back the red that had just started to fade. “Are you trying to get me to explode? Is that your goal? Because I’m pretty sure you picked that fuck’n passage for a reason. Why don’t you tell me what that was?”
“What made the darkness that Claire describes return?”
“I have no idea. She didn’t give me a time frame. It said days or weeks. When the hell was that, exactly?”
“Well, we can assume it was early in her captivity. She said she was still a prisoner. She hasn’t mentioned leaving the house. When did she do that?”
“Read the damn book. It will probably tell you.”
“Anthony, how does this book make you feel?”
“You want to know? Fine, I’m so pissed I can hardly see straight. I’m pissed that it happened, and I’m pissed that she gave the fuck’n interview. This is private information. No one else needs to know any of this shit. Besides, it was a long time ago. Things change.”
“When did they change?”
“Everything was different after she got out of prison. It was all different. The penalty was over. I could finally admit… Fuck!” Tony collapsed in the chair. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”
“During those times of light, how did you feel about Claire?”
“I didn’t. Not in the beginning. I didn’t feel anything for her… she just was there. She had a job to do.”
