I remember standing up and feeling very, very dizzy. The room was spinning. I felt as if my private parts had been smashed with a sledge hammer several times, then left under a bank safe. The pain was still immeasurable but it had changed intensity from a burning to a massive weight on my private part. My legs were shaking, my head spinning. My penis was still partially trapped under a bank safe, but I was walking. Sort of. I started to leave the room and go down a hallway. I was upset and determined to walk on my own and leave these people that had pretended to love me but taken me for this torture. I finally stopped, leaned up against the wall. Not moving. Building spinning. I could carry myself no longer. My dad picked me up and carried me out of the building. He was already in mediocre health.
I feel strongly this was the last time in my life that my late father ever carried me. He died of a brain cancer when I was 24. The majority of the rest of the day there are no more memories. The next clear memory about the traumatic event was bath time. I don’t even know if it’s the same day or the mid day after. Several things about this are vivid, traumatic, as if they are on the best 4k 3D TV made.