The first touch assist performed on me at Narconon Fresh Start was done by a guy.
He was an ex sniper who married his high school sweetheart. After a brief separation resulted in her getting pregnant by another guy, he raised the girl as his own. For a decade or two the three of them lived happily and I peace.
While over seas his wife ended up falling for his best friend in highschool, a wrestling buddy. He turned to alcohol, often drinking a fifth of vodka at night by himself or more. The young woman he raised no longer talked to him and he was minus one best friend, minus one wife, and his step daughter which he thought of as just his daughter.
Despite getting off booze and becoming a successful Scientologist (if there is such a thing), I could feel his depression and misery through his bizarre touching on my back and on the back of my legs.
The touch assists are required at Narconon Fresh Start. And the next one performed on me was even more disturbing.
It was done by a woman who lived in Huntington Beach with the ex sniper who was about 50 or 60 years old. She asked that everyone to call her Mommy.
It gets worse.
She asked to perform the touch assist on me upstairs in private, which was one more glaringly unusual thing I would experience there.
Mommy had me lay on a large padded table and started to touch my back and the back of my legs, like the first one.
As she started to rub my back and legs, she began to rub her c*&$#+@ on the back of my hand.
I knew this was not a rehab. I knew I had to leave. And I knew my parents would never believe the things I experienced at Narconon Fresh Start. They still don't.
I realized leaving would mean homelessness and tried to estimate how long it would take me to get an apartment again and a job, undoing the efforts of the intervention.
I figured I would be homeless for 6 months to a year and it would take 3 or 4 years to have a normal life again.
Then I started to plan my escape.
