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- [00:00]
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Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. The stories in this episode are allegedly true, so hopefully they don't make it too hard to sleep tonight. Before we begin, I want to remind you that you can subscribe to this podcast for just $2.99 a month. You'll get rid of all of the ads across every single episode. You'll be automatically entered to win my brand new giveaway of a PlayStation 5. That giveaway ends October 15th and if you subscribe to the podcast, you'll be supporting me and I would really appreciate it. And let's not forget, once again, you can get rid of all of those pesky ad. And lastly, I just want to say thank you so much for being here and I really hope you enjoy this episode.
- [00:38]
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- [01:16]
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This happened a while ago and I wrote it all down for catharsis. But now it's sitting in my computer and I can't bring myself to let it go down unseen. I can't help but wonder what others would make of this situation. There are lessons here I wish I took more to heart as I have recently found myself repeating old mistakes. Maybe they're easy pitfalls. Maybe I'm stupid. To understand why I allowed things to play out the way they did, it's important for you to know specific circumstances of my situation and my mindset at the time this story takes place when I was in the military and I will be using generic umbrella terms to keep things vague. I joined immediately after graduating high school and was placed in a job that required an absurd amount of schooling. It took over two years for me to finish all my schooling, and that was an average length of time for people in my field. I was about a year into my training when these events took place. Every time I try to write about where my head was at during this period, I end up spewing pages of woe is me cringe. So I'm limiting things to a paragraph. I was experiencing a depressive episode that lasted about six months. I never had mental health issues before entering the military. Outside of that, I'll try to summarize everything else as best I can with this I was fresh from high school, away from home for the first time. Friendless, just barely passing the physical tests, just barely within weight standards. Stressed from the immense course load of the school. Terrified of failing my classes after hearing the horror stories of what command does to failures. Afraid that failure in any of these areas would result in my removal from the military with a permanently stained record. Entrusting of command after the unending scandal, corruption rumors, recently abandoned by a longtime best friend. Bullied by some other girls in my unit, including a roommate. Spiraling into depression and teetering on suicidal. My on again off again bully roommate had just graduated, leaving me alone in the room until another girl is assigned to our unit in the following months. Until then, I retreated to my empty room and avoided everyone as best I could. It was towards the end of my fourth month or so period of self isolation that he showed up. As a training command every morning before class we were required to meet for morning formation. This is an administrative measure to take role and pass announcements and whatnot. When I arrived for morning formation, 10 to 15 minutes early as usual, I saw an intimidating man lurking in the small grassy area behind our meeting place at the back of the large parking lot. He was in uniform, not very tall, but unbelievably built. He looked older than most of us, but seemed likely to still be in his 20s. All of us began chattering to each other about whether or not he was waiting for our formation or something else since the school had such a slow turnaround rate. Everyone knew everyone, but none of us little first timers knew who this guy was. He was a low ranking nco, still higher up than us, but considering all the rest of us were of the same lower pay grade, we didn't know if we would get yelled at for asking him why he was loitering around. At least that's why I didn't say anything. No one walked up to him and he didn't so much as look at us. You may be thinking there is nothing odd about that, and I would agree with you if it were not for the fact that during the entire wait for formation to start, he stood back there by the fence facing a tree or pole or something and he just kicked at it. And it wasn't exactly the mindless gentle tapping of someone deep in thought, it was a bit more forceful than that. And I remember I wondered how his foot didn't hurt after doing it for so Long he ignored all of us, even though I'm sure he could overhear that we were all wondering what he was doing. Since he was only about 15 to 20ft away from the rest of us. I thought he seemed really angry or maybe a little off his rocker, but eventually another unknown NCO of the same rank joined him in the back and formation started so we couldn't watch him anymore. Anyway, our unit commander showed up and told us that the two NCOs we saw were now a part of our unit. And with that curiosity out of the way, I lumped the new guys together with everyone else, meaning I did not give them another thought. I was sick of everyone around me, so I was just focused on passing my tests and getting out of that hell hole as soon as I could. The philosophy of the fastest way out is through was what I clung to. At some point not long after their arrival, the NCOs were assigned duties that forced me to notice them. One stan was put in charge of the weekly barracks cleaning. English wasn't his first language, so he had a tendency to ramble and he frequently misunderstood our questions or comments. He was a pain in the ass and I don't think he was a bad guy or anything, but he was inexperienced and left us with an impression that he was practically useless. The other Frank was placed in charge of whipping those of us who were overweight or bad at PT into shape. Lucky me. I was considered too close to being in both of those categories and was thus named an honorary member by proximity. As a part of the small handful of people selected to be in this special pt we had to meet every weekday after school and participate in Frank's special training. Yes, Frank was that built guy that I mentioned who apparently likes to kick trees for fun. He told us that he used to be a boxer and he intended to use that style of training to make sure we got fit and that in the worst case scenario we could at least guarantee we would make weight at any weigh in. Since he knew how to cut water weight. Considering I already had someone in charge of me who actively bullied me, using me being out of shape as an excuse, I remember feeling an immediate discomfort with my new situation. At the time. This was not necessarily due to Frank himself, but but more that I felt an intense desperation to make sure that he did not hate me. It seemed that within the span of one week, this guy was suddenly in charge of my whole life outside of class. He was essentially my direct supervisor, even though everything was unofficial and he had the authority to tell my actual supervisor, a fellow student of equally low rank as myself, whatever he wanted. Due to his rank experience and new role in my day to day, my desperation to make sure he liked me caused me to tolerate more than I would have otherwise. During maybe the first week or so of our special PT group being started, we had just finished working out at the gym on base and it was decided that we would run back to the barracks together as a group. Frank had mentioned that he had been stationed overseas and could tell us stuff you would not believe. I don't remember if I was the one to encourage him to tell us a story, but either way I do know for sure that I did my best to seem genuinely interested in the disgusting tale he subjected us to. I won't go into it, but it involved a prostitute and a banana. I oohed and ahhed at the right moments and made eye contact whenever he glanced over. I even tried to ask questions to seem engaged. He hadn't actually finished telling his story by the time we got to the barracks and most everyone else dispersed immediately upon arrival. But I was so paranoid of getting on his bad side that I just awkwardly stood around and listened to the rest of Frank's very graphic story, a strange smile on my face as I entertained his ego. It was probably another 10 minutes before his story wrapped up, enough for me to dismiss myself under the excuse that I desperately needed to shower and and start on homework. Entertaining Frank's ego became a part of all of our interactions. I can't guarantee you that everything he said is actually true, but I can tell you with certainty that he told me all of this himself. When I asked about his time overseas, he said he learned the language there because he's really smart, so it wasn't much of a challenge for him. He said he participated in a fighting competition while overseas and only lost the match on a technicality because the locals didn't want a foreigner to win. When I asked about his boxing career, he told me that he trained himself by wrapping tree trunks in rope and punching them until he didn't feel the pain anymore. He was knowledgeable in many forms of combat, like taekwondo and jiu jitsu, along with boxing. Even back then, I sometimes wondered if Frank said all this stuff because he knew I wouldn't question him and he just wanted to see how much he could get away with. The sad thing is, I still believe most of it. Unbelievable as some of it may sound. I have asked some others who were around at the time and they have given me details that support some of his claims, though I won't bother relaying all that to you specifically. At the end of our hours of special pt, Frank started having us ground fight at least twice a week. These sessions involved all of us being paired up and fighting each other for a few minutes at a time. It was an exhausting and never ending circuit of switching partners and climbing all over each other, covered in sweat and absolutely drained from hours of exertion. When we had to fight each other, it wasn't so bad. Mostly half hearted swipes at one another in an attempt to seem like we were fighting. When we were paired with anyone but Frank, we were mostly taking a break on the down low, trying to conserve enough energy to put up a fight for our eventual return to Frank's mat. I don't know if all of us were truly that easy for an experienced fighter, but Frank had no problems fighting each one of us over and over for the entire duration of these sessions. Sometimes our fighting created quite a spectacle in the gym and others would approach Frank when we were done and ask if they could fight him too. Even after hours of peace pt, in fighting, he always held his own and I honestly can't remember ever seeing him lose, even during these surprise bonus round matches. This episode is brought to you by Lifelock. When you visit the doctor, you probably hand over your insurance, your ID and contact details. It's just one of the many places that has your personal info and if any of them accidentally expose it, you could be at risk for identity theft. LifeLock monitors millions of data points a second. If you become a victim, they'll fix it, guaranteed or your money back. Save up to 40% your first year@lifelock.com podcast terms apply in case you didn't already. Guess I didn't stand a chance against Frank. I can't even count the number of times I was quite literally overpowered by him during these sessions. It was incredibly frustrating. Not only was I exhausted and hungry and thirsty, but I was also enduring his choke holds and arm locks or whatever. I would tap out immediately as soon as they happened. Whenever I did this, he would frequently say something along the lines of already. You didn't even try to get out yet. The thing was, he wasn't teaching me how to get out. I remember I once managed to slip out of some hold. I don't remember what kind, but his legs were wrapped around me. I wriggled my way out and managed to move to having his legs wrap around my torso instead. I had thought that put me in a Better position, but instead he just started squeezing his legs. I figured there was no way it could get bad enough for me to tap out, so I still tried my best to break free, but it eventually got so painful I was afraid of internal damage and tapped out. All the sessions went this way and I felt like I just had to subject myself to getting tossed around for minutes at a time for an unknown duration of time. He never specified how long the sessions would be. Maybe Frank just called it quits once. No one else had the energy to fight him anymore. I'm not really sure. I remember that when we got into this routine pretty regularly, my mindset changed from doing make a fool of yourself to no holds barred. It's not like I can hurt this asshole anyway. Over time, as Frank and I fought, I eventually began to feel like maybe I was actually making some progress with this ground fighting bullcrap. I never managed to tap him out or anything, but I was starting to remember some holds and whatever and could implement them if only for a moment. I remember on one particular day I wanted more than anything to make him tap out. I had managed to hold my own for longer than normal during this fight and I gained the upper hand. Straddling Frank across his torso as he laid on his back with both my hands around his throat. I remember thinking, finally, die. I was really into the fight. I am not exaggerating when I say I was shouting die over and over in my head with my hands around his throat. I squeezed as hard as I could, but I have small hands and he was a big guy. I ended up leaning all of my weight into my hands and arms as much of my body weight was pressing down on his throat as possible. And I remember my slow dawning of realization that he wasn't tapping out. My red haze cleared and I looked him in the face. But he was just giving me an apathetic look and said, are you done yet? I was shocked and honest to God, fear zipped down my spine. I had never truly tried to hurt anyone before, and yet in this moment that I can only describe as bloodlust, I had no effect on him. The moment after I looked him in the face and realized he wasn't bothered by me trying to choke him at all, he threw me off of him. I'm not sure how it happened so suddenly. And then he literally picked me up off the ground and threw me like a sack of potatoes. I had never felt so weak and unable to defend myself. I didn't land particularly hard or anything. We were on Mats, but knowing how much more powerful he was than me never left my mind after that. There are a few other moments from those PT sessions that come to mind in that way. That came to mind because something about that moment or comment or look lodged itself in my head as a warning I would immediately ignore. But the same time that the special PT started, Frank insisted on helping me with my diet. Initially this was totally understandable as one of those ones struggling with my weight. This seemed within reason and I was actually looking forward to some direction. The on base food facilities were a joke with a nutritional value equivalent to my crappy public elementary school lunch menu. For this reason, Frank insisted I start cooking my own meals in my room, which I'm fairly certain wasn't allowed, even though a few people chose to do that. The other problem with this idea though is that the base I was on only had a giant supply store that sold no groceries, produce or meat. Frank insisted I would have to go to another nearby base that he was familiar with to buy my groceries. I told him I wasn't sure I could adjust to grocery shopping with my schedule and I didn't know how to cook and I would end up wasting too much time and money, especially since money for food from our on base facilities was a non optional fee. Frank offered to take me shopping and help pick good foods to teach me how to cook. I was reluctant and brushed off the offers, explaining that he probably isn't allowed to take me somewhere, that people might get the wrong idea if they found out we were out somewhere alone. In answer to this, Frank turned one of our special PT sessions into a field trip to said grocery store at the other base and used it as an opportunity to teach us how to shop for healthy foods. And while we were there, Frank pointed out the tools he thought I needed to bring so that I could start cooking in my room. Rice cooker, basic cutlery, etc. Our entire special PT group was there at the store on the field trip and yet Frank led us around as an aimless gaggle so that he and I could gather everything I would need to start cooking in my room and make a few meals. I really didn't want to buy all the stuff I did as it felt like I was being forced into committing into a task I wasn't sure I wanted to take on. But being told by Frank in front of my peers that I should just go ahead and buy it while we're here made me feel like I couldn't say no. My main priority was to keep him from hating me, and if I disagreed with him in front of his subordinates, I thought he might get mad. I convinced myself that it was for my own good, that I cook healthier meals and bought everything he told me to. I think it was the next day when he came by my room. It was evening, I was working on schoolwork or studying and felt largely settled in for the night. I heard the loud bang of the hallway door opening, followed by a knock on my door. It's Frank and he says it was time for us to cook dinner. I was baffled. Sure it was dinner time and he had told me he would teach me to cook, but I didn't know he was going to show up to my room at night and let himself in and start cooking dinner. I honestly don't remember much of that night since it went about how you might expect. I don't remember if I even helped much with the cooking or if he just did everything, but what I remember from the experience was the intense anxiety of doing something I wasn't allowed to do. Cook in my room with someone who technically shouldn't be there. An NCO with subordinate, a male and female room, etc. Way after work hours. He told me it was fine because he used to cook in the barracks all the time, that he was in charge of my fitness and that includes diet, so technically he's just being a good mentor. I was desperate for reassurance, so I accepted his excuses even if I didn't agree with them. I just figured the quickest way to get him out was just to finish the task. Also, I'm sorry that I can't remember for sure, but I think the door to the room was left open. I do know at least that the other people living in my hall knew he was there with me and that we were cooking food, which made me even more anxious. Although I had a roommate at this point, so she was in there too. But even with the door open, he shouldn't just be hanging out in a room. Regardless, that night triggered the start of the rumors that circulated in speculation of our relationship, but of course I didn't hear about those until after everything. I didn't have to hear them to know they were happening, though it's expected in a place like that. It's very hard to keep secrets from the lower enlisted because they are everywhere and scandals spread like wildfire. After that first night of cooking, he started coming by more often. At least that's how I remember it. I used to never see him outside of work things and the PT Stuff. But now we seemed to be hanging out around the barracks over the weekend. I didn't think too much of it at the time. I was a bit of a loner who stuck to a room, so I figured he had always been around and I was just never seeing him. There were five other halls besides mine, and I just assumed he lived in the first one in his own room like the other nco Stan. I lived on the top floor, though with the rest of his unit unofficial subordinates. He started knocking on my door every time he came by, checking in on me, I guess. I think I would just awkwardly loiter in my doorway and make small talk until he would leave. I started hearing rumors from my peers that he was always really drunk when he was roving the halls on the weekends. They told me that he also never scanned a key card to enter the hallways. He would just kick the lock hard enough that he could open it. I thought that was ridiculous and I didn't believe it. But I asked around and everyone confirmed the rumor. I asked my roommate, who is not someone who would exaggerate or play into stupid rumors, and she also confirmed it. Most people had seen him do it by then, and it was always much louder than just opening the door. Normally he stopped by even more during the weekends when he was the NCO on duty. Since he had to stay there working for 24 hours as a glorified hall monitor. It meant that he was stopping by my room almost every hour as he made his rounds. At least he probably wasn't drunk on those, but those were frustrating since they were so frequent. I don't quite remember the timing of this memory, but I believe it was around the point that Frank insisted I try. This food I had never had before. He told me that there was a great place in town where we could go get some. I reminded him that we shouldn't go anywhere together, and it just so happened that Frank had a solution to that little issue. Stan would come with us, of course. Genius, because it's not fraternization if there's two NCOs out on the town with a subordinate. Each NCO would just supervise the other. That's how Frank explained it, anyway. I seriously doubted it, but he wouldn't accept my feeble excuses as to why we probably shouldn't. There's nothing too specific about the outing to mention other than my overall impression that the whole affair felt strangely like some kind of supervised date on the first morning of a long weekend off. All Friday Monday, I opted to go to an optional PT session with the special group because Frank was making me feel guilty for considering skipping it since I would then be free of everyone for the rest of the weekend. I agreed. I figured it would get him off my back. PT was going fine, but then we did an exercise where we paired up and ran around carrying each other. I was paired up with this dude who's extra about pt. He was there for fun, unlike me. When it came time to carry me though, he started sprinting and booked it across the field. Of course the idiot trips. The fall threw both of us forward. With my right ankle being the first thing between us and the ground. I tried to walk it off but couldn't and ended up sitting out the.
- [24:08]
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Rest of PT at Capella University. Learning online doesn't mean learning alone. You'll get support from people who care about your success, like your enrollment specialist who gets to know you and the goals you'd like to achieve. You'll also get a designated academic coach who's with you throughout your entire program. Plus, career coaches are available to help you navigate your professional goals. A different future is closer than you think with Capella University. Learn more at Capella. Edu.
- [24:40]
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Lo and behold, PT ended and I still couldn't walk. My ankle couldn't hold any of my weight at all and I wondered if maybe it was broken. It didn't hurt too badly if I didn't try to use it though, so I figured it was just a really bad sprain. Either way, I was in no shape to walk home and anyone with a car had left it at the barracks, including me. I honestly hate talking about this next part. It's one of those things that I just feel so weirdly self conscious about and there's really no way I can avoid being direct because otherwise it's impossible to understand. When it came to getting my injured ass home, Frank insisted on carrying me back himself. Even at the first suggestion, I was already like yeah, no way. But then he further explained that the easiest way to carry me would be if I sat on his shoulders. You know, like how a parent holds up a child for a parade. Except I am a whole ass grown woman and we've all been sweating our asses off for like three hours now, so I don't exactly feel like having a sweaty bald head up against my sweaty crotch as he starts walking the agonizing 30 minutes home. Like literally every part of that sounds like everything I never wanted. I looked to the others for help avoiding the situation. Couldn't someone run back and get my car to Drive me home? Oh no. The traffic is too terrible. It would take longer than walking. Couldn't we do a group carry? Wouldn't that be faster? Long story short, no. The others tried some group carries at first, but the whole affair was so slow moving and impractical that everyone's exasperated expressions were enough to coerce me into dropping the idea. I tell the others they can just go home and then start their weekend. I can just hobble and take breaks and I'll get there. Eventually, Frank convinces them that they can leave because he'll stay with me. I expected that and say nothing of it. He lets me hobble along without saying a word. But every time I flinch too hard or stop to take a break, he reminds me of how quickly he could carry me back on his shoulders. I moved very slowly. After maybe the sea sixth time or so, I was sick of the pain in my ankle and thirsty enough to finally give in to his offer of getting home sooner. It was a bitter pill to swallow, not only because Frank unnerved me for reasons I couldn't entirely justify, but also the whole reason I was even hurt in the first place was because some jerk overestimated himself and dropped me. I couldn't exactly say I was thrilled to then have my untreated injured ass carried home in one of the most inexplicably humiliating and precariously balanced ways possible. What? Did I have to grip his bald, sweaty head? What am I gonna do? Clamp my thighs around his skull? Absolutely not. Accepting a ride home on Frank's shoulders was a weirdly humiliating experience for me. I don't know how else to explain myself. Additionally, my long, glorious weekend that was supposed to be lots of needed solitude for me to decompress was instead intruded. Because you'll never guess who decided to come visit multiple times throughout the weekend. It was Frank, and he felt bad I got injured, so of course he would come to keep his subordinates company so she wouldn't be alone for the entire long weekend. And you'll never guess how I felt about that. After all, who wouldn't want to spend their weekend in their bedroom with just their supervisor? The first time he knocked on the door, I had assumed it was the guy who caused my injury. That guy did end up visiting later that weekend to keep me company for a couple hours and drop off some I'm sorry you can't walk chocolates that I definitely couldn't eat on my diet. But no. Instead of the friendly face I expected, I was met with immediate suit scoldings from Frank. What are you doing on your feet? Go. You shouldn't be standing up. Go lay down. He immediately shoot at me with his hands and stepped into the room. I backed away, retreating into my half of the room and hopped all the way to my bed, which was in the back around the corner. I was caught off guard and confused, but Frank kept chiding me about how I needed to go lay down so I couldn't get a word in. Before I knew it, I was back in bed with Frank sitting at my bedside. Maybe that doesn't sound so bad, but like I said, I was tucked in a corner of the room and cut off from the door. My area was crammed with not only my own issued furniture, but an extra set in case a third roommate was assigned to the room. There was really only enough space to walk in a straight line and that space was being occupied by my massive supervisor. Of course, the cherry on top is how I slept on the bottom bunk of a double rack, so being tucked into the corner with wooden slats for climbing on either side, my only point of entry was at the thin strip of open ground Frank was occupying. The space between the top and bottom bunks was too narrow for me to sit upright, so I was forced to lay down or lounge. However, since my fall, I had taken to looping a scarf in the supports of the top bunk to elevate my injured leg so as to avoid putting weight on my ankle. Frank spotted the scarf and asked why it was hanging there. I explained the use and he told me that I should be comfortable and therefore used it. Since I didn't know how to explain why that would make me feel awkward and I also didn't have any other way to lie in my bed without pain, I complied. I felt very much like the subject of a diorama at that point, boxed in on all sides but one, on display in my pajamas like a regrettably conscious Snow White, except instead of glass to protect me, all I had was the suffocating illusion of civility. Frank told me he felt bad for my injury and said that he's going to keep me company throughout the weekend to help me look after my aim. Now that I think about it, I think he was the one who wrapped my ankle that first day too. During the weekends holidays, the on base medical unit wasn't open, so if it wasn't an emergency, we just waited it out. The only thing I remember about that awkward time spent on that first day on the long weekend was his strange request. Do you have any String. Confused, I told him that I don't and asked him why he needed some. He told me he liked to play Cat's Cradle and asked if I've ever played before. I told him I've heard of the game but never played it. He asked if I am sure I don't have any he can use. I told him that if he wanted to play so badly, he can use the laces of my spare boots by tying them together. He does just that and creates a large loop out of the laces. He tried to teach me how to play the game, but I wasn't very interested, so I also wasn't very good at it. Besides, one of the annoying things about Frank was that he liked to poke fun at me in the game of Cat's Cradle. This manifested in him trapping my hands in the loops whenever I made a mistake. I eventually got so fed up that I stopped playing even though he was bugging me to just keep trying since it wasn't as fun alone. But it wasn't like he was trying to help help me improve. I could tell he just liked messing with me, so I rebuffed his persistence. After examining my injured ankle and rewrapping it for support, Frank eventually left. He visited me more often than I would have preferred throughout that weekend, spending what felt like hours at a time in my room. To be honest, I'm not sure how long he actually was spending with me. I just know I wished it was less. I know this final part happened at some point during that long weekend, but I honestly cannot remember at what point exactly. The second night? Third Last. I don't suppose it matters since in the end it's so prominent over everything else, but this memory is actually the reason I felt inclined to chronicle these events. Frank's visit had started like any of the others, and and while I did not learn to appreciate the visits, I did learn to expect them. I noticed he had taken to barking at me to get back in bed as soon as he stepped inside my room, even though I was usually alone and therefore the only one who could answer the door. Maybe I was needlessly paranoid, but I didn't like that he was able to yell me into my bed as soon as he barged in. So this time I had leaned over from a distance and opened the the door slightly, letting him push it the rest of the way open to buy me an extra second to round the corner of the room. My plan worked, actually, leaving me thrilled. As I settled into my chair. I pulled the other nearby chair out for him and asked him to sit before he could say anything else. This still placed him between me and the door, and I was still confined in that tiny square of space. But at least I was seated upright. I felt a little better. I don't quite remember how things led to this next part. Sometimes I think maybe he didn't like that stuff I pulled with preparing chairs for both of us. But other times I think that I'm overthinking the unimportant things. It had become a regular thing for him to fiddle with that loop of bootlaces during his visits. He was a restless guy, usually fidgeting in some way or another. He had probably asked me to play cat's cradle again. I probably said no again. Maybe that pissed him off. Who knows? He started talking, telling a story, presumably. He unties one of the knots of the loop, reverting the laces to one long strand. He's talking about his deployment, learning all kinds of knots and rope tying. He uses the strand to demonstrate some. I don't think I was listening very attentively because he suddenly bends forward in his chair and grabs my uninjured ankle. He's still talking, saying something about how it's easier to just show you. I freeze up, attempting to register what's happening while scrambling to come up with a respectful way to tell him I'm not comfortable. Before I can get a word out, the laces are wrapped around my ankle and the leg of my desk. He continues to talk the whole time, but the only part the of part I remember was when he was finished tying the knot. They used these knots when tying up insurgents because it actually tightens when you struggle. Yeah, they actually have to cut these off, in my opinion. It felt tight enough already. I didn't try to remove myself. He finished the knot and his explanation. So he has to untie me now, right? That's what I was telling myself. At least until he spoke again. You probably can't get out of that. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't even truly believe the situation I suddenly found myself in, despite all my caution. It didn't matter, because there I was, trapped in a corner with my one good ankle tied to a piece of furniture, and I just sat there and watched it happen. I felt so stupid. And even then I couldn't tell if I was stupid because I let that happen or because I was merely wildly misconstruing a very innocent situation. Surely he just didn't realize how vulnerable I might be feeling. Right? Surely he's just that completely unaware of his dominating presence. Right? But at the same time, that part of me I was trying so hard to ignore was screaming at me that he was a threat, that his words were a challenge and to respond would fire the starting gun. Could I try to untie myself, still unsure of his intent? I feared it would escalate things. Should I tell him to untie me? He could easily say no, which would confirm what I was still trying to deny. Should I ask him? I imagined it would come across as begging, which seemed just as bad. These doubts and fears flooded my mind and froze me in place, resulting in me staring cautiously at him. I stalled as I tried to process my situation and determine my reaction. I stalled in the hopes that Frank would simply untie me like he should have. As soon as he finished his explanation, I stared expectantly, like untying me was unquestioningly inevitable. And somehow it worked. Next thing I remember, Frank leans down and frees my ankle. I was relieved, of course, but I hardly remember anything outside of that. This incident in particular is why I feel so compelled to write this. No one outside of Frank and I knew about that bizarre event. Even that night as I laid in bed, I doubted that something like that had really happened. And even when I accepted that it did, I seriously doubted that it was as sketchy as I was making it out to be. Was I right in feeling threatened? Or was I simply blowing things out of proportion? How am I supposed to feel about what happened? Why did Frank think that was okay to do? Did he mean something by it, like I feared he did? Even if I told someone, what would I say? After all, nothing happened. And I felt like I had no one to tell that wouldn't just screw me over for it. I endured being under Frank's leadership as a member of his unofficial program for what felt like a lifetime, but in reality could only have been a couple of months at most. My final hurdle for earning my freedom was to pass the upcoming fitness test within the standards of my unit commander. Along with taking our fitness test, our weight with checked the day before. This final stretch of time was absolutely miserable. Just making weight wasn't enough. I had to be certain range within weight for no reason other than because it makes the unit's reports look better. I guess. I don't know. This meant Frank had me cutting water weight like a pro boxer before a big tournament. The details don't matter too much for this, but it did mean extra training. Training on top of the extra training I was already doing, along with A literal starvation diet. On the night before the weigh in, Frank stops by my room and drops off a half full handle of whiskey. Not only was hard liquor not allowed in the barracks at all, but I was also underage, so I wasn't supposed to have alcohol of any kind. I tried to tell him I didn't want it, but he told me it was really important that I take it from him and drink as much as I can can that night. I was a good kid, so I never really imbibed, but even I knew that drinking lots of liquor on an empty and dehydrated stomach was a terrible idea. Looking back on it, I think he was assuming I would throw up a bunch which would help me purge more weight. But honestly, I think if I had actually done as he instructed, I would have ended up in the er. I hadn't had a proper meal in weeks and I had been actively dehydrating for almost 24 hours at that point. I ended up hiding the bottle in my room for a few very uncomfortable months until I dropped it off at a random house party I somehow got invited to. When I was still justifying Frank's actions. I told myself that he probably thought he was being helpful, like some kind of cool older friend. And he didn't stop to think about how his subordinate might feel being pushed to accept his contraband and underage drink. At his request. With just a little more misery, I passed my way in the following morning and the physical test following that, I was also slated for a six week internship thing. My grades were just barely good enough that I got to go on a trip to learn more about my job in the real world. I was gone for what felt like much longer and had a blast. Actually, it was really nice to get away from the place I felt so trapped in. Upon my return, my roommate informed me that Frank had stopped by quite a few times while I was gone. She told me she thought it was weird that he seemed impatient for my return. The look on her face told me she was concerned, but I brushed it off. I was in a good mood. I didn't want to think about that. Since returning from my internship, I had nondescriptly faded back out of the attention of my unit commanders. I was within all weight and fitness standards, doing well enough in class to feel comfortable. And my old bullies had graduated out of the unit, so I felt largely unseen and safe. No longer feeling like I was constantly under watch. I was also plugging back into the people around me, starting to make friends with some of the newer people I had never noticed when I was so wrapped up in my stuff, including my new roommate. Things were looking up. So I guess that was why I decided to dismiss any lingering unease regarding Frank's previous behavior. I don't remember anything leading up to this weird final visit from Frank. I was focused on schoolwork just like any other night. Though oddly enough, I remember that I have Batman Begins playing on my computer in the background. I was writing up flashcards when there was a knock on the door. My roommate's portion of the room is closer to the door, but we both have to guess as to who has stopped by. I walk over and answer. Surprise, surprise. It's Frank. I am really annoyed by his visits at this point. I let him catch the door before it closes to come in if he wants and silently return to my desk without greeting him. I sit back down and continue scribbling my flashcards on autopilot as I wonder what he could possibly want now. I get through a few cards before I realize that he definitely should have said something by then. I pause as I notice that he's just silently standing behind me. I look back at him questioningly, my annoyance thinly veiled. It's kind of blurry, this memory. At one point my roommate told him he's too drunk to be there. At least she told me that happened. I don't actually remember hearing that in the moment myself, but I suppose that isn't very surprising. I was probably busy pausing my cartoon or something. I do remember the part where she mentioned she was going to get the person on guard duty that night if Frank didn't leave. I guess they are argued briefly, but I don't remember the specifics and I only remember feeling really confused by the whole thing at the time. I missed that he was totally wasted and I didn't understand why she felt it was necessary to fetch the guard. As far as I could tell, she was extra mad at him for no discernible reason. She ends up storming out of the room when the door clicked shut behind her. The silence was was tense. I was still confused, feeling like I missed something very important. I eyed Frank, who continued to silently stare at me in a way I didn't understand. Feeling unnerved, I turned around and attempted to return my attention to my flashcards. I heard the rustle of Frank's clothing as he moved to stand against the back of my chair. I felt a panic. I couldn't understand. Nothing had happened yet, so why was I suddenly regretting how much skin my PJs were showing. Why did I feel such horrific foreboding? I think maybe there was a brief conversation, a few words exchanged. If there were, I don't remember them. I just remember twisting slightly in my chair to peer up and over my shoulder at Frank as he looked down at me and then suddenly realizing that Frank's face was getting much too close for comfort. I maintained a perfect distance from him as his face approached mine. We moved like the negative ends of two magnets, him approaching and me retreating. With each inch traversed, my heart and thoughts raced faster and faster. What was he doing? Why was he getting so close to me? Why did it seem like he's trying to kiss me? Oh God, what if he is Prime Delivery is fast.
- [45:04]
B
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- [45:27]
A
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B
Prime.
- [45:32]
A
Does it ever feel like you're a marketing professional just speaking into the void? But with LinkedIn ads, you can know you're reaching the right decision making a network of 130 million of them. In fact, you can even target buyers by job title, industry, company seniority, skills and did I say job title? See how you can avoid the void and reach the right buyers with LinkedIn ads. Spend $250 on your first campaign and get a free $250 credit for the next one. Get started@LinkedIn.com Campaign terms and conditions apply. Go further with the American Express Business Gold Card. Earn 3 times Membership Rewards points on flights and prepaid hotels when you book through amextravel.com whether your destination is a business conference or a client meeting, your purchases will help you earn more points for future trips. Experience more on your travels with Amex Business Gold. Terms apply. Learn more@americanexpress.com Business Gold AmEx Business Gold Card Built for business by American Express, Gatorade is the number one proven electrolyte blend designed to hydrate better than water so you can lose more sweat and raise your game. Gatorade Is it in you? Hey, it's Ryan Reynolds here for Mint Mobile Now. I was looking for fun ways to tell you that Mint's offer of unlimited Premium Wireless for $15 a month is back, so I thought it would be fun if we made $15 bills, but it turns out that's very illegal. So there goes my big idea for the commercial. Give it a try@mintmobile.com Switch upfront payment.
- [47:09]
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Of $45 for a three month plan equivalent to $15 per month required new customer offer for first three months only. Speed slow after 35 gigabytes of network's busy taxes and fees extra see mintmobile.com.
- [47:17]
A
Fight or flight kicks in hard because in that moment I had one overwhelming desire to run. Right then, right at that moment. But I was sitting nearly tucked underneath my desk in my very stationary and not at all rolly chair with Frank towering behind me. Even if I scooted my chair out and managed to stand being backed into the corner as I was, the only place I could move to was my very boxed in bed. That certainly didn't seem like a good idea since the only change that would result in is moving any possible confrontation to my equally inescapable bed. It didn't look like I could run, but I already knew I couldn't fight. Not Frank. I had experienced his physical dominance over me firsthand. It was practically the first thing I learned about him. So I already knew I didn't stand a chance. I couldn't run. I couldn't fight. So I froze. I stared just like before. But this time my bewilderment was was clearly displayed on my face. I couldn't believe what was happening. That what I worked so hard to convince myself to be mere delusion was in fact a justified paranoia of the inappropriate one sided attraction Frank harbored for me. That despite my previous experience with him tying me, I once again found myself in an uncomfortably compromising and potentially volatile situation. Just as he is about to cross the line by kissing me. Frank pauses, then pulls back a bit. I continue my bug eyed look of pure what the hellness? And he briefly chuckles to himself through his nose. I feel an immediate distaste fill me as I wonder what's so funny. I am terrified and he thinks this is all some kind of joke. But in half a second I am again ready to supply reasons all this to be merely happening in my head. He didn't do it. So does this mean I'm in the clear? That he doesn't actually want to do anything shady with me? Or at the very least that he would never actually try to go through with anything yet instead morphing into Ashton Kutcher to announce that I just got pranked like I was hoping, Frank turns his head to kiss my bare shoulder. It was a very soft touch, a quick peck, but it immediately dispelled any ideas that I had that I might have been imagining his intent. He stepped away from me completely just as the door to the room opened. I was twisted in my chair tracking his movements when I saw my roommate round the corner to my portion of the room with a guard in tow. Frank walked out with the guard. Real chummy like his behavior. Akin to being picked up from a party by a friend. Friend. I could see the relief in the guard's face that he wouldn't have to try and convince that mini hulk to leave. I think my roommate asked me if anything happened while she was gone. I probably said no, I'm fine or whatever. I'm really not sure. I didn't really talk to anyone about it. I know that in the years since I tried to ask my roommate about that night, but she was only willing to talk about it briefly one time. Time. I am not really sure why, but it means I don't really know much on her perspective on how things played out. I later found out that that night had been a large source of gossip for a while, though it took a few other events unrelated to me before people started asking about it directly. While that night was my last notable personal interaction with him, Frank was around for a few more months. Oddly enough, I still stopped seeing him so much after that drunken night in my room, but I wasn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth. However, I did start to hear things about him. About how he got pulled from classes due to a fight with someone with another unit. He apparently held up his classmate by the throat because he disrespected him. I know that sounds so stereotypical, and I didn't believe it either, but that's actually what happened. He also later had a breakdown at a public event. Event that resulted in him hopping all the nearest fences to leave the base and run barefoot all the way to his home miles off base. Because oh yeah, by the way, Frank didn't live in the barracks like I had assumed. No, of course not. Why? Because he was married and they even had a kid. This man who imposed himself on my life to make weird advances on me had a wife and child. Child that he completely failed to mention in the many hours we spent together. Anyway, so after his assault of a classmate and public mental breakdown, he ended up getting demoted and separated, which is probably why I never saw him much after I left his leadership. I hope we don't, but if we ever meet again, maybe we'll be fortunate enough to not recognize each other.
- [52:16]
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Eczema isn't always obvious, but it's real, and so is the relief from EBGLIS. After an initial dosing phase, about 4 in 10 people taking EBGLIS achieved itch relief and clear or almost clear skin at 16 weeks, and most of those people maintain skin that's still more clear at one year with monthly dosing.
- [52:34]
A
EBGLIS Librekizumab LBKZ a 250mg per 2ml injection, is a prescription medicine used to treat adults and children 12 years of age and older who weigh at least 88 pounds or 40 kilograms with moderate to severe eczema, also called atopic dermatitis that is not well controlled with prescription therapies used on the skin or topicals, or who cannot use topical therapies. EBGLIS can be used with or without topical corticosteroids. Don't use if you're allergic to Epglis. Allergic reactions can occur that can be severe. Eye problems can occur. Tell your doctor if you have new or worsening eye problems. You should not receive a live vaccine when treated with Epglis. Before starting Epglis, tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection searching for real relief?
- [53:09]
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Ask your doctor about ebglis and visit epglis.lilly.com or call 1-800-lilyrx or 1-800-545-5979. Abercrombie Denim is everything Right now, denim should feel like this. Confident, easy, like your butt has never looked better. If you didn't know, Abercrombie's Curved Love Denim went viral in 2019 for eliminating waist gap, and it's still a game changer. Between that and their classic fits with a straighter line from waist to hip, the perfect denim does exist. Shop Abercrombie Denim in the app online and in store. When did making plans get this complicated? It's time to streamline with WhatsApp, the secure messaging app that brings the whole group together. Use polls to settle dinner plans, send event invites and pin messages so no one forgets mom 60th and never miss a meme or milestone. All protected with end to end encryption. It's time for WhatsApp message privately with everyone. Learn more@WhatsApp.com this episode is brought to you by State Farm. Checking off the boxes on your to do list is a great feeling. And when it comes to checking off coverage, a State Farm agent can help you choose an option that's right for you. Whether you prefer talking in person, on the phone, or using the award winning app. It's nice knowing you have help finding coverage that best fits your needs. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there on top of building this fake volcano for months. I give my daughter Smartypants vitamins to support her brain health. So her science fair project sounds more like and less like. And while I may say it's not a competition, of course it's a f ing competition. Choose Smartypants vitamins to support your kid's brain health and save the science fair. Shop on Amazon, smartypantsvitamins.com or at target Today.