Inner Demons, AKA Journals of an Angry Trans Gurl - Chapter 3

Inner Demons, AKA "Journals of an Angry Trans Gurl"
© 2017 Haylee V

* This is a true account of my life experiences. All persons portrayed in this story are based on actual people I've met throughout my life, and the events portrayed actually happened. No malice is intended to those individuals involved, and names have been altered to protect the identities of the people portrayed. *

* This is a copyrighted property owned exclusively by Ronald Heyward Bailey, Jr., written under the pseudonym Haylee V. Exclusive rights are hereby given to host it on Big Closet Top Shelf or any of its affiliated companies. If you are reading it anywhere else, please be aware that you are reading a pirated copy, and should inform one of the web mistresses of Big Closet (Piper, Erin, or Sephrena) the web address where you found it. *

* Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you find it as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write -- Haylee V *

* And now, on to the story. *


Chapter Three

I winced in pain as I was tossed roughly in the back of the van. The handcuffs bit deeply into my wrists, still tender and not quite healed from the tortures of "The Baron" and his Neanderthals. The jostling of the van didn't help to allay my fears as we sped away from my Auschwitz. What new kind of Hell were they taking me to now??

The doctor(?) beside me saw me wince and slowly moved towards me.

"Give me your hands," he said, kindly.

When I hesitated, he dangled the keys in front of me. "Unless, of course, you're Houdini or something," he grinned. "It's okay. Dr. Samuels got your letter."

"D-D-D-Dr. Samuels?" I stammered.

"Yeah, that's why we're here. I'm Tom. Captain Tom Strong, codename 'Jiyuu' (freedom). Your nurses are Lieutant Tanya Charles," he said, pointing to the blonde, "codename 'Yuuki" (bravery, ghost), and the brunette's Sergeant Hillary Blake, codename 'Chikara' (strength, resources). The Colonel's driving. You can meet him when we get you back to base. Eventually, you'll be able to go back home, if you want to."

Home. Did I really hear him correctly? Had I really escaped?

"Of course, we'll have to take you under our wings, for a while at least, just to keep you safe. I can only imagine the Hell you've been through. I just wish ..."

With that, he allowed his thoughts to drift.

"Unfortunately, this IS the USA, and even vermin have rights. Wouldn't mind sending him AND his goons to Gitmo for awhile, though. On a special 'Friends of the USA' tour..."

"Umm... If you don't mind me asking, where is this 'base', exactly?"

"North. That's all you need to know -- for now."


After Tom freed me from those accursed shackles, he gave me a quick debriefing of their mission to free me, and their reasons for sequestering me instead of taking me directly back to Rock Hill. Seems they were... interested... in some of my skills, and more "unique" hobbies, and were willing to put them to more... beneficial... uses, if I were willing.

I figured what the hell? Didn't have too much left to lose, anyway. Just my freedom and sanity. Oh, yeah. Right. I'd already LOST my right to those -- according to the state, at least.

With my arms now free, I could move around more. At first, I winced in pain, as I had been confined too long, and the restraints had taken their toll. I ached all over, the tenseness and tension in my muscles palpable. What I needed was a nice, long soak in an ice bath, followed by a lengthy massage.


As if reading my thoughts, Tanya soothed, "We'll be there soon. We have full medical on staff, and once they have you iced down, and give you something to ease the stiffness and pain, we'll talk. Just try to rest now. If something comes up, we'll let you know."


For the first time in weeks, I actually willed -- and even allowed -- myself to fall into a deep sleep. Although restful, it was fraught with remnants -- evil and terrifying -- of the tortures I had so recently endured.


After what seemed like an eternity (Doesn't time seem to stop when you're sleeping?), I was awakened by Tom.

"We're here," he said, a little too cheerfully. "Welcome to Alpha Base 7. Let's get you settled in."

Someone (I assumed Captain Mike) came around and opened the doors to the van, and Tom and I helped the ladies out. As we did so, Tanya waved a small black composition book at me.

"Thanks for the tip. My 'bed check" proved useful after all. Looks like the Baron's days are numbered, I'd say."

Next, Tom exited, and helped me down, giving me a salute as he did so.

"Umm... Thanks. I think?" I mumbled, shocked, as he just stood there stoically. Tanya and Hillary did about faces and saluted as well. "But why the salutes? I'm just a civilian, after all," I said, quickly returning their salutes.

"Because," Tom began, "While you are on base, even in civilian attire, you have the honorary rank of Major. As such, you outrank me. The colonel's taken a particular liking to you, and you'll be bunking with him, if that's ok. He'll brief you at oh six hundred. Until then, just relax, and enjoy the perks afforded you at the officer's club."

With that, he handed me an ID card, saluted again, and excused the team.

Just what IS going on here? I wondered...


I was shown to the officer's club, where the colonel sat waiting at a corner table.

"Colonel Mike Samuels, I presume?" I asked, remembering to salute.

"That's only for 'the brass'," he whispered, as he hastily returned my salute and ushered me to a seat. "We'll have you fitted for your dress blues at oh nine hundred, then do lunch at twelve hundred. At thirteen thirty, we'll meet back at my office with the team. I'll brief you then. Dismissed."


Well, I didn't cotton too well to all the stuff shirt stuff, and being kept in the dark worried me to no ends, but he HAD freed me from that stalag, so, I guessed I owed him -- just a little. Besides, I look good in oak leaves...


I went for my uniform fitting promptly at 9:00. I heard the supply sergeant mutter sleepily under his breath, as he reached for my requisition and the proper uniform. "Damn officers. Always got to be prompt, rigt to the minute. As if waiting a few minutes would kill them."

I turned away from him, trying to stifle a laugh and remember the rank I now carried. I tried -- hard -- to look miffed when I faced him again.

"What was that, AIRMAN?" I responded.

"Uhh... Nothing, Sir!" he quickly stammered. Tears were forming in my eyes at this point, and beads of sweat were runnung down my brow from the sheer exertion of holding my laughter in. I quickly excused myself and went to the latrine. As soon as I entered, I checked to make sure it was empty, then completely lost it. Being an "officer" just might be fun after all.


I had my lunch (not bad for something lovingly referred to as "chow"), and proceeded to the Colonel's office. I arrived with ten minutes to spare, only to find everyone else already there.

"Sorry about that," they all exclaimed, sheepishly. "You're not used to it yet, but when the Colonel says thirteen thirty, he means by HIS watch, not base time. In the field, not being properly prepared could get any one of us killed, so we usually meet up thirty minutes early, to prepare. That way, we're always at the ready when the time to act actually comes."


They quickly brought me up to speed with what was transpiring on my case. My "secret" journal had been transcribed as I slept, and forwarded to the National Institute for Mental Health, for investigation. The Colonel had called Tiffany to tell her I was now safe in their care, and to arrange the continuation of my counseling sessions. My court hearing had been allowed a change of both time and venue, to accommodate me better. They had also found out that my dear, sweet Lynne had fled the state with Bethany, and were last seen in Maryland.


Upon hearing that news, my jaw dropped. I knew EXACTLY where they'd find her, for there's only one reason she'd go there -- Charles Leon Young, Jr., her biological father, and the biggest swindler I'd ever met. But I can deal with that later, if I need to. First, I want to know why I'm here, and what's so bloody important that they need to sequester me so...

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