Jack Thomas.
Not his real name of course, but one I’ve chosen to refer to him by here.
It’s been over a decade since we met online. At the time and for several years after, I imagined him to be the bane of my existence. But now it’s clear that he was one of the many pieces in the twisted mystery that became elle. Perhaps the key to everything as facing my fear of him and reconnecting all these years later has certainly been the catalyst that’s driven me to begin writing again.
Like- actually writing.
Finally.
Once I was finally free of him, I promised myself it was over. I deleted all our correspondence and tried to erase him from my memory. But the lingering effects of his perversive tutelage had already found a host in me and I was overcome. Soon I was unable to get through a week without at least one session of punishing myself for all the bad decisions I had made. He had drilled into my brain how bad I was and how I needed to be punished. Simply reinforcing everything I had always believed about myself. As the guilt of whatever I did that caused him to snap and treat me so badly and the shame at what I’d allowed him to make me do¹ was consuming me, I began to believe that no one could ever love me because I was ruined and ruined other people.
Before Jack, I had never sent an inappropriate photo of myself to a man. And with him, I sent the photos and did so much more; crossing what felt to be the point of no return.
Over a decade later and after doing a lot of healing, the details are no longer seared into my brain as they were for years. However, I do remember that it was either October or November of 2015 when I met Jack on Craigslist. He had posted an advertisement (read that in a British accent as he’s from England) and I emailed a response. We quickly began emailing back and forth which was a welcome distraction from the anxiety growing at my impending return home from Slovakia to the dark Alaskan winter. I hade made so much progress in my three months away from the chat website and men, but I craved the familiarity that felt safe with these men and he provided that for me at the time.
Chatting with Jack was new and exciting. In the beginning he mostly wanted to talk about his wife and their marriage. They were having some issues and I seemed to become his pseudo therapist while encouraging him to see an actual marriage counselor. Being as naïve as I was, I liked that I seemed to be helping him. Being a listening ear and giving him someone safe to confide in. I also appreciated finding a judgment- free confidant and him and told him far too much about myself and my past struggles with men online. But everything seemed fine for a few weeks and I was flattered and excited when he wanted to meet for dinner as I was going to be staying in London for a few weeks before returning to Alaska.
The night everything changed was one of my first nights in London. I remember standing in the room I was staying in thoroughly engaged in our instant messaging which was really just a volley of emails. The air felt charged with this electricity I had never experienced before. My hands trembled slightly with excitement, my breathing coming out in quick desperate little pants.
And then… Jack asked me for a photo.
No, he demanded that I send him a photo of myself dressed in something red.
My first instinct was to comply, even though I didn’t want to. I knew I would because when do I ever not do what someone wants me to? But for a split second I thought that perhaps just the one time I could say no and see what would happen…
Before I can stop myself, the idea had taken root and I fired off a response to Jack.
No. I don’t have anything red.
I wait. Shocked that I actually told a man no.
I felt something shift. The air seemed to crackle with a charged electricity that felt dangerous. Like when there’s a gas leak and one spark is all it would take to set the entire room ablaze.
I could feel him then.
The real Jack. His guard down, emotions exposed.
His surprise, followed by shock, then the anger that comes at being told no.
It terrified me.
And it thrilled me.
It was intoxicating knowing I had something he wanted and couldn’t take from me without my consent. It felt safe since I was far away from home and would be leaving London soon. So, I decided to have some fun and see how far I could push him. But if I had only known how grave a mistake that was because Jack Thomas snapped.
As it turns out, that intoxicating sensation that made me all heady with a false sense of bravado, was the moment he actually lost it a bit. And he wasn’t the same with me after that. Not for years.
He demanded again that night that I send him photos and this time I did everything he asked of me. I took a photo of myself in my red and grey striped forever21 sweater and I’ve blocked out the memories of everything else he had me send.
That night for a few brief moments I had finally felt in control, only to have it stripped away and ending up feeling as if I was thirteen years old again. Back on that bathroom floor terrified out of my mind imagining what else a man nearly twice my age would do to me if I didn’t give him everything he wanted.
But this time felt different. I was older and knew how men could be and somehow, I now craved the pain they gave me.
Jack decided he wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant and that he would have to buy me a new outfit so I wouldn’t look like a schoolgirl. It was quite the elaborate fantasy for him and admittedly, the ideaof it was enticing. What eighteen year old girl experiencing Europe and England for the first time wouldn’t love to be taken to the type of department stores I had only ever dreamt of while watching Masterpiece Theatre and Gossip Girl? I had never truly dared to imagine that for myself and yet here I was with this fancy Londoner all but begging to treat me. So yes, I allowed myself to be swept up in the fantasy of wearing beautiful clothes and going to dinner with who I correctly assumed to be a very attractive (I found out over a decade later) albeit at the time, married man. But that’s where my fantasy ended, a nice meal, pleasant conversation and saying goodbye at the end of the night.
But Jack’s fantasy… well- it was quite dark.
It involved a silk scarf and me not being able to breathe.
As fantasies go, he had it all planned out. I would excuse myself to the powder room and he’d follow me. Once there, he was to kiss and undress me. He described wrapping the scarf around my neck and choking me hard while he entered me and made me his.
Body, mind and soul.
And the darkest part is that somewhere in me, I craved that.
I wanted to be owned.
I would have met him, but I was afraid of him harming me and causing me to disappear which would worry the people I was staying with. So somehow in my fear, I was able to say no to meeting for dinner by blaming it on not being able to leave in the evenings. He didn’t like that at all and I sent him more photos attempting to appease him.
After that, London was all but ruined for me. Everytime I took the Underground, I worried he would be on the train with me. I had never seen his photo, but knew he had brown hair and eyes and worked at a bank in Canary Wharf. He could literally be any of the well-dressed Englishmen making their morning commutes on the tube wrapped in their dark overcoats. The most terrifying thought of all being that he would recognize me as soon as he laid eyes on me while I would have absolutely no idea who he was. Instead of looking out the window enjoying the scenery, my time on the tube was spent scanning the faces of the strangers holding briefcases and carrying messenger bags. Terrified that he would find me and carry out his twisted fantasies, while a small part of me wanted him to.
It was incredibly messed up and I left England feeling even more upside down and inside out then I had when I arrived. For the better part of the next year, Jack and I continued our correspondence.
I was his willing captive and remained so until the night he attempted to blackmail me.
At the time, I liked this guy. Like REALLY liked him. I knew I had to stop talking to Jack, but when I tried, he told me that if I did he would post all the scandalous photos he had of me online and that the only acting I would ever be able to do after that would be in the adult film industry. That broke me since at the time all I wanted in life was to be a proper film actress and the possibility of my family and people from church finding out what I had been doing scared me to death. I needed help getting away from this monster I had seemed to create, so I told the guy I liked- we’ll call him Chase. I sobbed on the phone confessing the entire story for the first time. He was horrified when I told him everything and promised me that Jack was only bluffing and convinced me to stop communicating with him. I was terrified out of my mind, but I trusted Chase. So, when it all worked out, I found myself feeling indebted to him; which led me down an even darker path.
But that’s a story for another time.
