Dear Johnny,

I was walking along the road when it dawned on me. Given I was taken as an infant, I grew up thinking the Traitor was a hero. A silent hero. Someone I thought was strong and fearless. Someone I wanted to be like. Someone I wished would take care of me. But that role was reserved to the Guru. The Traitor would still, once in a while, give me advice or explain some of the Guru’s actions. But I was a child. The Traitor was to me an example on how to survive in this context.

That’s why his treason was so painful. Not only did I feel betrayed by the Guru whom I thought was nothing but kindness. But the hero I was trying to be like, the person I thought I had to protect being a man now, was a traitor.

My scars are healing. I’m no longer bleeding which is good as I’ve ran out of gauze. I still have marks on my wrists and ankles and I limp pretty baldy. But as the dust settles and the pain lessens, I have the space to think. I realized that the Traitor is as much of a victim as I am.

See, the Guru and the Traitor’s back story is quite different than mine. They met 40 years ago and, at the time, the Guru wasn’t keeping anyone in the basement. The very first victim was the Traitor. The difference being that he ended up putting his chains on his own feet after the Guru subtly made his way into the his mind.

They became a fusional entity.

In that kind of fusion, one of the two eventually disappears. It’s like those cheap alien movies where a creature from outer space would get into a human body eventually killing the person and feasting on the insides. After that, the only one left is the alien and the screaming girl that we see in all those crappy movies.

All of this lead me to understand that, when you attack the Guru, you attack the Traitor. He is no longer in his mind or his body. He is the Guru and the Guru is the Traitor.

A fusion.

That’s how the Traitor became the voice of the Guru. As long as you kept your place, accepted your faith and toed the line, you got peace. But try to run away or stand up to the Guru and the Traitor will defend him like he was defending himself against a life threatening opponent. Because if the Guru dies, the Traitor is lost.

He was already lost. He lost himself in the Guru.

It’s frustrating to realize that there’s no way to speak to the logical part of his brain. It’s long gone. So you can argue and try to make the Traitor see that we’re not the enemy, as long as the Guru sticks to his fictional and ridiculous version of the events, whether he himself believes in it or not, it will remain the only truth to the Traitor. And if the Guru changes his version, you can be damn sure it’s because he’s going to get something out of it.

It’s a lost cause…

See Johnny I’ve never been really good with not getting the facts right. It’s a sort of defense mechanism. When the Guru understood my actions wrong, I had to make sure I’d explain it to him in a soothing non-threatening way hoping I wouldn’t get punished. Even today, I panic if someone either understands wrong or if I think they might understand wrong. The consequences were painful at the time, both physically and emotionally. I’m conditioned, like Pavlov’s dog only instead of hunger, I get fear.

I’m trying to learn though. It’s not easy but I’ll get there.

But to see all of this going on without even being able to tell the truth, the facts, is kind of sickening to me. Of course, I could just think “fuck him”. But I actually have feelings, something the Guru cannot say and the Traitor cannot see. I still have this fantasy that I can explain everything to the Traitor and that he will leave the basement on his own. But I know now that it will never happen.

And it hurts…

I believe that dogs are all born nice. It’s the way they get raised and brainwashed that makes them violent. The Traitor’s been brainwashed. Like a dog, he will viciously attack anyone whom he feels is a threat to his master.

There’s no turning back.

It still feels like there’s a rusted dagger in my stomach when I think about it. Eventually it will go away.

– Dean.