I was kidnapped At 5:00 am on December 26th, 2016. A small army of men burst through my front door, shouting questions, demanding to know where I was, though I sat in plain view. They stabbed me--once, twice, I don't know how many times--and trussed me so I could not move. Satisfied, they carried me away from the quiet home where I'd so long lived and took me to their white world of probes and wires and loud machines.
I'd been in their world before, and I feared it because it left me weak and hurt and without control. Their stabs stung, of course, but so did the metal probe they inserted into my groin, pretending not to notice that they'd exposed my genital area for all to see. Tied again, I cried out but I could not escape. Worried, I guess, that my tight bonds were insufficient, they shouted at me not to move.
Looking worried, they conferred among themselves. They needed a more powerful probe, a more specialized level of probe operator. Still tied, probes inserted and wires attached, they trucked me 3.5 hours to the nearest big city. Still wired and tied and newly drugged, I experienced everything again--the probe, the groin, the genital area.
Finally left alone, I lay watching my heart beat, my lungs breathe, my blood pressure occasionally announced from a huffing strap fastened round my arm. My spouse came in, pretended cheerfulness attempting to cover the worry. I was still an object instead of a person, so I didn't hear the news except second-hand. Though my heart was worse off than it was before they carried me away, it hadn't died, so In a few days I could go home.
That's why you had no post to read last week.