Heroine: California Dreamin' (37 page)

Kate stood in the room. I didn’t believe my eyes. It was Kate like I saw her last. She wore the beautiful black summer dress and the high heels that I had given to her. But her face was different. She stood in the shade that the ugly lampshade on the ceiling had created but I could still recognize that her evenly cut facial features were gone.

“Kate, is that you?” I asked aghast. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you get in here?” She didn’t respond. But she raised her right hand as if she wanted to reach me.

Despite my panic I dared crawling out of my corner and stepped before the bed. We faced one another. Then she stepped out off the shade. I screamed out loud and toppled over. I couldn’t hold myself on my legs for another second. The view was just too much, her face was all cut up, her eyes could no longer be recognized and dried blood stuck to her neck on her naked chest. The beautiful dress was all torn. Speechless, helpless, powerless I looked up to her.

I started to understand that Kate was dead. She had come to say good bye to me. My horror changed to sadness. I had loved Kate though she had stolen from me but I still had those feelings of guilt in me towards her.

“What happened?” I whispered. “Who’d done this to you? Kate, you know that I loved you. Please say something”.

She remained silent. Then she pointed with her right hand to the window sill where I had placed my cell phone sending signals to the world that was supposed to save me. I remembered that I had once shown Kate the hiding place in my purse when I looked for my keys. Then we just giggled when Kate called my purse a ‚
whore bag
‘. She never touched my purse when she took a hike with all my money.

“Kate, please talk to me. What’s happening?” Totally in vain I tried to reach her. She lifted both arms to me. She was totally cut up. Kate probably had suffered a lot. I was furious.

“Darling, whoever did this to you I’ll get him. As soon as I’ll get out of here I’ll look for him and hunt him down. I’ll swear.”  She nodded, then she turned around and left. I didn’t know where she went but it looked like as if she walked down a long dark corridor. Then she was gone.

My brain worked. But this time it didn’t tell me that I had lost my mind. What I saw can be checked out. But for that I had to get out of this damn’ hole.

Kate knew where I had put the cell phone. That meant it was possible to localize the signals. I was sure that Jan had understood my message. He would arrange that they look for my cell phone signals. Now I knew that they would find me and free me. Kate was just the messenger to let me know.

I calmed down and laid down on the bed. Exhausted I fell asleep and soon dreamed of Kate, how she laughed, how she tried on the dresses with me. My dream told me once more how much I had loved her and how grateful I was towards her. Then the memories of her were drowned out by some incredible noise.

I might have slept for a couple of hours the most when I heard loud screams, stomping and yelling from the rooms above me where my female ‘colleagues’ were working. With great relief I turned on my back and hoped that Jan would still find the time to
take me into his arms before we left out of here.

The door opened with a loud bang. Apparently somebody had kicked it in. It was not Jan standing there in the opening but rather two police officers in black suits and face masks as I knew them from some detective stories on TV. In their hands they carried hand guns up high and pointed. Special Weapons and Tactics unit or so. I sat up on my bed and smiled at them. Their eyes grew bigger and bigger. I forgot that I was still stark naked.

They briefly searched the room and the bathroom. One asked me whether I was Juliane Noula. I confirmed. Then he spoke into a small walkie-talkie.

“We’ve found the target object and now come out with her.” He asked me to get dressed. I didn’t like that at first but my head told me that it was necessary. I picked up my suitcase which I had packed already two days ago and climbed on a chair to retrieve my cell phone from the sill. These old little things were really reliable. The battery display was still showing one single bar.

Together we went down the stairs into the courtyard. It was in the middle of the night. My body felt like I was walking on cotton balls. Light and excited I hovered between the people making my way through. The pimps were all lined up with their faces to the wall. Their hands were tied to their backs and several officials guarded them. I saw Lisa as she was escorted out through a gate together with other women. She was not handcuffed.

Jan came in through the gate. He wore a black leather jacket. I was happy to see him and flung my arms around his neck. He squeezed me and I felt that he carried his gun in his breast pocket. My hand slid into the pocket and when I let go of Jan the weapon lied in my hand, just like that. I bent over and put it into my undies. Then I said to Jan:

“I must take care of something, just briefly. Then I want to go to bed with you at once.”

While I turned around and bent over again I again reached under my skirt. There I released the safety catch and cocked the weapon as they had shown me in San Francisco. I got up, aimed at the pimps and shot immediately without hesitating a single moment.

One shot found its target. That was good enough. At the same moment a hand hit the pistol out of my fist; with a loud clank it fell to the ground. I looked at my wrist that looked strangely crooked. Jan’s karate hit had broken it. Several men grabbed me, twisted my arms to the back and threw me to the ground. I liked it.

The only thing I didn’t understand was that Achim tossed and turned on the ground, screaming. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? Strangely twisted he screamed as loud as he could. He called out for his mama! Igor stood beside him and was as white as a sheet. I knew why. Not because his body guard was tossing and turning on the ground and ready to die – no, because somebody was yelling for his mama.

Until then I was absolutely convinced that I was the one who had gone nuts. After the police raid at Igor’s brothel I did indeed change my mind. It was apparent that all others had lost their marbles and I was the only one who was still somewhat of sound mind. I just couldn’t comprehend why Jan had been arrested and was led away in handcuffs whereas police officers were shouting around like crazed people.

An emergency doctor took care of Achim who soon thereafter disappeared with an ambulance with lights flashing and sirens wailing. I sat on the ground my hands cuffed to my back, and I was in tremendous pain. My lower arm had been broken and bones were rubbing against one another at the fracture with every breath I took. It drove tears to my eyes. But regardless – I felt somewhat euphoric.

I had won and I was certain that Achim would die. My feelings of revenge were stronger than any pain.
Déjà Vu –
once more I experienced euphoria in view of an enemy’s demise!

Two officers stepped up to me and yanked me up on my feet by my elbows. They wanted to take me to a police car. I just collapsed with a scream when they clasped my broken arm. That pain was just too much for me to tolerate it.

“Do you wonna kill me?” I screamed in desperation. “My arm has been broken, don’t touch me!”

“Oh shit, that pro is hurt”, the officer in green uniform turned to his colleague.

“I go get an ambulance. We need to take her to a hospital.” That really did me in. Didn’t he just call me a ho? Kate’s face appeared before my inner eye and I asked her what she would have done in a situation like this. She grinned and winked at me. I knew what I had to do.

With great efforts I got up whereas I clenched my teeth. The young cop who had insulted me looked into a different direction without paying any attention to me. I stepped sideways in front of him and rammed my knee with all might into the place where it hurts most.

“There you have your ‘pro’, you shit face”, I yelled into his face that was distorted with pain when he sank to his knees.

“You’ll never call me that or I finish you off.” His companion stood beside us with his mouth wide open and he only reacted when the other cop was already on his knees gasping for air. He yanked me to the side and threw me also to the ground. I remained in that position until the courtyard was empty and at the same time another ambulance drove in. The young cop who I had hit right on target was back on his feet and looked at me with hatred.

“You’ll pay for that, I swear to God!” he yapped at me.

“Hans, shut the hell up. You won’t do anything – you’ve asked for it”, his colleague interrupted much to my surprise.

“The next time you gotta be more careful with what you say.”

They exchange some more words where one tried to convince the other of his point of view and then a doctor in a white coat took care of me. We drove to a hospital in the inner city accompanied by a police cruiser. They x-rayed my arm in the emergency room and then my disarranged bones had to be put back into place. I forbade the emergency doctor to give me any anesthesia – he finally accepted after some heavy dispute.

“It will hurt terribly”, he kept on insisting. “I am afraid you might collapse again. You’ll squeal like a stuck pig.”

“Can you deal with my screaming?” I asked him dryly. He looked at me for a while and then he nodded.

But he was right. Those were the most horrific pains I had ever experienced. But I pulled myself together and didn’t allow my body to give up on me. I was certain that giving me another injection with some anesthetics would have had worse results.

The female cop who was supposed to guard me couldn’t take it any longer – she felt sick when I screamed out loud and ran from the treatment room.

After a felt eternity I found myself in a bed that was pushed into a hospital room. There was a tube stuck in my left arm because I had accepted that they could give me a saline infusion. Nothing else.

The right arm was in a cast up to my elbow and lay heavy beside me. Only when an officer took his seat in front of the open door it dawned on me that I had been arrested.

Since I was by myself in the room I soon found the peace and quiet and dozed off shortly.

Then I felt some movement beside me. It triggered my alarm functions and I winced whereas my pulse accelerated like crazy – as I could hear from the peep of my heart monitor. A man in a white coat stood beside me, a physician. His facial expression revealed some torment, his eyes were squinted as if he felt pity.

“Relax, everything is okay. The worst is over and you will soon recover from it”, he smiled friendly.

Something was not kosher with this guy. I didn’t feel threatened but rather felt that something was bothering him. Some sensitive issues. The man carried some heavy inner burden.

First I was surprised about myself because it had been a while that my emotional antennas had worked so well. Then I was happy because the effect of the drugs had worn off. My sensors worked again.

But exactly that caused me to mistrust that person. This doctor tried to make up for something. He actually radiated the sense of guilt. But through the treatment I had been weakened so much that my reactions were too slow in order to prevent that he inserted a syringe on the infusion.

“That is a sedative. It will help you to make it through the night and to overcome your trauma faster.” Even before I could react the clear liquid disappeared in the tube and made its way to my veins.

“No!!” I screamed out. “No injections! Go way from me!”

But it was too late. The sedative went to work in my body. The do-gooder left the room with some indignant facial expression. He had only tried to help me! And now I didn’t even show any gratitude at all.

I lay there calmly for a few seconds and tried to think things through. I counted my heart beats until the effect set in. Then a wave of lust rushed through my body. I began gasping because I wanted to suppress the effect. But I didn’t succeed.

After two minutes the most I couldn’t refrain any longer from ripping the infusion out of my vein and the white hospital gown from my body. If I wouldn’t feel a man inside me immediately I would explode. I had no control over my reactions – all I felt was being horny. The cops outside of the door was the next reachable victim. Totally naked I jumped on his lap and reached for his crotch.

“Fuck me for heaven’s sake, just do something or I’ll explode”, I yelled in desperation.

The cuckoo medicine man had really meant well for me and applied a dose of sedative to me that raised the RSD effect again to full height.

I did not succeed in raping the poor cop bastard. He yelled out for help, threw me to the ground and together with two male nurses who had rushed to the scene they held me there. Until I was all tied up in an ambulance the men had to endure a lot of obscene demands from my side. Then they pushed me on a stretcher through a long hospital corridor without me even realizing how I actually got there.

The environment seemed to be familiar to me. It took me a while until I recognized that I had landed in the psychiatric clinic in Bonn where I had taken my first internship. And again a doctor approached me with a syringe. Again I begged him not to do that. Then I passed out. Later I was told that I had rampaged like a crazed woman although the medication was supposed to calm me down. Every new injection only sparked off the effect of the RSD anew.

I slowly came to me around dawn in a darkened narrow room. When I tried to get up I felt that they had tied me down. Wide leather straps prevented me from making even the smallest movements. The various neuroleptics kept on working in my body since I felt still tremendously horny.

A few moments later a young nurse looked suspiciously through a crack in the door. When she saw that I had remained tied down, she entered. What I really wanted to do at this point was to fuck her on the spot – because she looked so sweet. But I did know that I couldn’t afford to do so and that I needed help urgently. Therefore I begged her to hook up with my gynecologist.

Paul was the only person who could free me from this precarious situation. I urged her to tell him my name and the word ‘RSD’, he would then know what was going on. Until they could get a hold of Paul I had to wait for another three hours all the way in shackles – the head nurse could only reach him once he was in his office. Then it still took several hours before he stood in front of me, followed by an entourage of doctors and male nurses with grim faces who were apparently prepared to wrestle me down again.

“Jesus Christ Almighty, what have these idiots done to you!?” he screamed out when he saw me. With his own hands he loosened the leather straps. I was too weak to get up. He lifted me up and held me against his chest. At that moment I started to cry vehemently – at least one person understood me.

“Listen to me Juliane”, he said after I had somewhat calmed down again.  “The effect of the
medication will soon be weakening and then you’ll return to normal. Until then, can you pull yourself together enough and abstain from attacking people here?”

I nodded humbly although I felt like doing exactly the opposite. But I also wanted my situation to improve and I didn’t want to lay around here any longer all tied up. Paul promised to take care of me. Later I learned that he was furious that nobody knew anything any more about his RSD research results.

The next few days I spent in a barred cell that normally houses really difficult cases. The doctors still didn’t trust me. But at least I could roam around freely in my cell.

On the first day three detectives showed up to interview me about my version of the abduction and about Jan’s role in it. They wanted to imply that he had planned the assassination attempt on Achim together with me. I was totally furious about those allegations.

Achim survived the shot. I didn’t know whether I should be relieved about it or if I should still hope for his demise.

On the next day the detectives were accompanied by an older prosecutor who was apparently happy to meet me because he smiled friendly at the beginning of the interrogation.

I made use of that fact and refused to say anything before Jan had not been released from their custody. We negotiated for a while then the official admitted that he would take care of it. Jan was released the very next day because they believed my version of the story. However, I would face charges due to attempted manslaughter because I had honestly confessed to have stolen Jan’s weapon with the intention to kill Achim.

I was then invited to confess the whole story again to an investigating judge. When he asked me whether I had a defense attorney I mentioned without hesitation Otto’s last name because he was the only attorney I knew. After that the judge’s questions became significantly more polite and he took all efforts to have everything recorded diligently.

Paul stopped by here and then and informed me that he had contacted his former professor in Switzerland and told him about me. He’s been retired – emeritus as he put it – but he had a successor to whom I was referred. It seemed it paid off now that not only Paul but also Otto had participated in Erich’s orgy at the time. In that way the adventure that had brought me into this horrible situation to begin with had turned into my favor now. Otto negotiated with the respective judge that, at my gynecologist’s advice, I was referred to Zurich for treatment by specialists for drug problems.

The professor in Zurich was at least sixty years old and he was of the old school of physicians that dealt and deals with the patients’ personalities and not only with medications to cure certain symptoms. That was as he put it in one of our conversations while I told him my story. I was hospitalized in the closed section of the Swiss clinic for several weeks and the professor had taken care of me in person right from the beginning. He also presented me with medication in the beginning.

When I protested in fear of a renewed relapse to drug use he enlightened me about his ‘drug cocktail’ as he name his mixture. I was dumbfounded. The ‘cocktail’ consisted of almost everything as RSD. Only heroine and psilocybin were missing. But for that he had mixed under some other ‘shit’ which he himself produced synthetically in his own lab.

“This stuff would send any human on an immediate trip who had never come across any drugs. It has the opposite effect with women who had come in touch with RSD. They would feel fucking sick.” I noticed that his language had adopted the jargon from junkies during the many decades of working with them. And he was right. The results of the drug cure did not pass by without traces – I had lost at least five kilos though I was slim to begin with. Now I was almost emaciated – almost like a girl suffering from bulimia.

  “It’s time that you re-gain some weight. For a starter the effect of the RSD should be suppressed for the next six months. Then we’ll see about it. In the next step we’ll apply dialog psychotherapy. Your judge back in Germany will also like it. He assumes that you were of unsound mind at the time of the crime – referring to the shot at Achim. And that is the truth. But now you are ‘normal’ again. Which means you should look at the reasons that led to the fact that you couldn’t defend yourself. Such a victim’s role is sometimes also quite comfortable to avoid unwelcome facts of truths.” He winked at me.

I was somehow confused. But what really bothered me was the diagnosis of a ‘psychosis’ that I was told several times.