Each time I walked into the back room I would find out how ugly I am today, and why I am ugly, and why he needed made-up sexual details from a dog rapist and a gang rape to make fun of my vagina, to make fun of my breasts, to make fun of the small dark moles on arms and my legs, to make fun of how ugly my legs were and how they were too many muscles showing as I had been to the gym every day. I would hear about how ugly dark hair is, he would laugh at my facial features, my nose was too broad and he criticised me for looking a bit too indigenous, and I had ugly dark skin, he told me that his new prostitute would never be permitted to get the sun on the skin because my skin was so ugly with that dark tan and the sun would take my youth away from me. I was all things bad. He needed a man who I told him was being paid to rape dogs at an apartment in Zone 5 with yellow shag carpet, when I walked into that room I thought who has been harmed here. Where was the dog? Was the dog Ok? Did they get dogs from the pound to rape and then kill them like they did on his farm back in nowhere Australia? The tiny little farmhouse that would fit into my bedroom wing. You could almost hear those opening bars from The Deliverance playing as you drove up the long dirt driveway. At first, I thought it was the Caretakers House, my family were also country boarders, the other side of the family got the family land and inheritance, but we had already eclipsed their wealth with the equivalent of hundreds of millions. In my twenties I already had the same amount as this tiny farm was worth, just 3 million dollars. It had hardened mud up and down the walls, it had Onkaparinga blankets and not throw blankets on dirty old 3 seat sofa. There were 4 people in the house and only one 3 seat sofa. They looked as though they were really struggling, this is the man who would tell me to commit suicide and who was been asked and there mystery surrounding another high school suicide and there had been another suicide since. He was the man who harassed me and who tried me to get me to commit suicide to hide the fraud, he spent 4 years working on me for that suicide. I was working 16 hour days, I was taking too much Oroxine to try to escape domestic violence, my company had taken off like a rocket, it was a first entrant and I had turn away the largest destination spa chain in the world because I couldn’t keep up with the level of business, and my Oxbridge MBA sister was coming to run it, my IVY league brother wanted to invest, as did my sister, it was going global, the dog man said he had to do something final before my sister and brother got control of it. He said, “you are so F-ing amazing, and you are doing so well, we’ve got to stop you now, and stop you from doing those interviews or we are never going to be able to stop.” “I’ve been told to stop you now, so that I get to go backstage and I get to go to Bryon if I do this for them to hang out with all the rockstars.”
The man who told me that my skin was too tanned, my hair too dark, that I had ugly golden green and hazel eyes, that turned a different shade of green when I cried, he told me that at 57 kilos I was just enormous. I have had life long starvation issues, people always check if I am undereating again, because of that time that I had brain damage from not eating for 9 months. He said he might pay me if I got down to 43 kilos. I was force-fed weight gain medication, it made me gain 4 stone in a few months, and they forced me to go back into domestic violence after 9 months away, I had escaped only to be returned to him by force, as I had made up a fantastic story that I wrote lyrics that small label stole. So naturally, I needed to be assaulted until it was safe to escape again.
He hates fat women whose weight is in the 50’s, it makes them disgusting specimens of real womanhood. When he told me to lose my breasts and my butt, I thought, that was what made me different to other women. He was always making his disgusting vagina jokes, it was either a “mum vagina”, or a vagina that had been harmed by a paedophile. As revolting as it sounds the men had a conversation about how it was better on the whole as a man to have a woman who had been molested because in their words, they said, “the old blokes teach em what to do.” I was never the same after that conversation, I didn’t want a single man who knew them to lay a hand on me. He claimed that they make better lovers “apparently”. What a sick puppy, but they were entitled men, the music industry bestowed them with total power over women and over men and over trans people, to do with what they wanted. My ears didn’t need to hear that and I am sorry that I have had to write it, but there is no other way to break the spell his charisma has over people, and how dumb people are, and how much they like my words, and how they well they branded him and hid this side of him. I am a tortured soul because I helped someone like that before I realised, like the others, who he was.
No woman, no worth worth something wants a man to touch her after witnessing a conversation like that, he was free to say anything as he had an alibi who had been willing to lie for him. That alibi died, when he was dying they sent the dog man into my home who was near my precious dogs.
Why did I allow that? I had amnesia, aphasia, its medically diagnosed. I read an article about a journalist who had the misfortune to be near Diddy, and she had large chunks of memories repressed, until then I never heard of anything like it. I lost people who hurt me, and who didn’t help me, I just couldn’t remember them, they did me no harm, they didn’t do anyone any harm. I was destroyed for their pleasure, my dogs and I were attacked to terrorise me, and it was fun for the sado masochists to harm the woman that they were ostensibly trying to help, he wanted them to feel helpless and powerless and to watch them sqirm trying to find a way out for me. Trying to get my lyrics attributed to me or to trying to find a way to get above their heads to a woman who was more powerful. It doesn’t really matter how he tries to hide it or who he enlists to try to help his image out and to change my image from woman who was attacked to woman who had no harm done to her or to her dogs. When my memory was blocked they attacked me, it was attacking with a disability, when they were fine and working 16 hours a day, it was an attempt to try to find a breaking point, to just get the suicide over and done so that I wasn’t anyone’s issue or embarrassing secret anymore. There were so many crimes committed and discussed in that back room and then back in Australian near dog man that they had no choice but to have me done away with. I had dog boy, the woman from Mosman, and all people who worked for me in NDA’s so dog man could no longer give pretence that he slept with me, and he couldn’t make up public lies about my company at all…without losing the farm. It is possibly (I still have it) and NDA worth killing for, it is a 9 page document, there are punitive damages. He wanted to damage the entire family because we dared to have more money and more glamour and I am just an ethnic and he is a “true Australian”. All the men used the “true White Anglo-Saxon Australian’s” as they describe themselves to do this. I had the harbourside apartment, the second apartment at Neutral Bay, I wanted the Birchgrove direct harbourfront house but dog boy literally made me sick and forced towards the Neutral Bay property. My baby niece, my brother lived across the road, I went to their house daily, my baby niece wasn’t allowed in the house when dog boy came to visit on his way to his “Western Suburbs clients.”
I had to be put through my paces and told how ugly, unsexy, and unattractive I was before I got to choose who I spent time with, I needed to be taken down a few steps, and told that no one would ever want to have sex with me, and that I needed to remember that I am ugly before into the other room, and that the dog rapist had given pretence that I had slept with him and he said that there was “nothing there” between my legs and that I remember that, because they were onto a good thing stealing my lyrics, and they needed the money, and they needed people to like and they needed people to need my lyrics. I was told to never have sex again, dog boy wanted my male partner, and the men who stole my lyrics said that with a vagina like mine, or with a vagina at all, that I should never have sex again, and that I should only ever have one relationship for the rest of my life, so that I don’t embarrass them for stealing my lyrics.
Nevermind, don’t worry your pretty little heads. If you are friends of his, or have been I don’t want to know you anyway. Don’t darken my doorstep with tales of him or how he planned it all, made up all the lies, employed all the hookers and stooges to get away with murder by suicide to steal millions of dollars. Don’t worry your pretty little heads, go off and live in privilege cosseted away until old age with what you are passive about and complicit in. I will not be mocked for having olive skin or mocked so that someone can have my work and put their name on it. I will no longer be mocked for a gang rape. He is your Diddy like character, he threatens to play “gang rape related tapes” and people going to the bathroom to get the upper hand and to successfully get away with forcing and crimes. That’s what happened and that’s who you guys are. Enjoy who you are.
Four men begged me not to leave. Three men offered me places to live but I couldn’t wait to escape to the safety of Australia. They employed and commissioned stalkers and people who are known to pester the wealthy, and who stalked the wealthy as desperate teenagers who were hoping to be taken seriously in the world. He bestowed them with that crown, helper of men who abused someone to get their writing, and to wrestle from their hands. He said he would stir up a mob mentality as a threat, said he would like to the media, and that the media did what he said, and who he wanted and that he told the media what he wanted them to think.