Who Are You?: With one click she found her perfect man. And he found his perfect victim. A true story of the ultimate deception.. Megan Henley
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his help, but I did feel exposed in front of him. He didn’t know me well enough to really appreciate that Christopher’s words were all lies; for all he knew, I could have been some porn-loving, lying prostitute.
There was stress in every area of my life by now – broken cars, people telling lies about me, discovering that I’d been spied on for goodness knows how long. Thank God there was someone to look out for me. Vic continued to care, he continued to indulge Max, and be great with Ruby. He didn’t bombard me with gushing declarations of love, but he surrounded me with safety and security. He was a sweet, caring guy – maybe he wouldn’t win any beauty awards, but that isn’t what matters. I thought he had an amazing strength of character to have recovered from so much and yet still be trying to make other people’s lives better, and now going out of his way to help me. He was strong, he was emotionally connected – he was just what I needed, and I don’t believe life is a rehearsal … so I fell for him.
Hook, line and sinker.
Chapter 4
November 2009
I was actually really scared of what Christopher might do. During our relationship, he had shown some possessive tendencies, but this was beyond anything I’d thought he was capable of – I was terrified he might turn up at the door, so having Vic there was a relief. Our relationship had progressed quite quickly, I guess, but it was based on him being so kind and helpful to me. Most men would have run a mile if they’d been sent the sort of emails he’d been receiving, especially when they worked out it was their new girlfriend’s ex using spyware and all sorts of weird stuff. His caring side made me feel so safe, and I was starting to see that he had a front for the rest of the world that I was privileged to see behind.
I knew that Vic had his own issues to work through with the losses of Zack and Dina, but I hoped I could help him find a happier life. However, in early November I discovered just how trying things were for him.
All of a sudden he, quite literally, went mad.
Vic had been open with me about the fact that he had suffered from some mental health problems in the past. I was completely supportive, feeling that it was certainly nothing to be ashamed of and glad that he could trust me. I knew that he had been severely depressed after the death of Zack and that, when Dina was killed, many of those feelings came back again. It was perfectly natural really. He also had enormous feelings of guilt, which had an effect on his mental health. Although his family was nasty and violent, they were still his blood. It must be so hard to break away from your mother and father and sister, even when they are toxic. Vic had alluded to past events when he had first made it clear to them that he would take no part in their lifestyle – he had then been threatened and harassed, which had made his mental health even more fragile. All of this seemed perfectly understandable to me; I also had friends who suffered from depression, and other issues, and I knew that the last thing they needed was for anyone to be judgemental or intrusive, so I didn’t push Vic for details, I just let him speak about it whenever he chose to.
What he hadn’t told me was that things could get a whole lot worse than a bout of depression. When I say that, I don’t mean to minimise depression in any way. I know it’s horrible, I know it can be completely debilitating, but I also know that many, many people live with it and manage it. I could support that and I could help Vic with it, but I had no experience of the terrors he was really going through.
One day, when I was working in the spare room, organising my stock and getting ready for an upcoming vintage fair, I heard a scream coming from the living room where I knew Vic was.
‘Noooooooooooooooo!’
As I ran to him, thinking he’d had an accident, I heard it again.
‘Noooooooooooooooo! Please stop! Please stop!’
It almost didn’t sound like Vic, it sounded like a child.
When I got there, he was crouched in a corner with his arms around him, rocking back and forth, in tears.
‘Vic! What’s wrong?’ I asked, in a panic. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’
He looked up at me as if he’d never seen me before.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, in a whisper. ‘Are you going to help me? Are you going to hurt me? Did Nice Lady send you? Or him? Did Skill send you?’
I was shocked. The poor man looked terrified and he had the voice of a five-year-old.
‘Vic, it’s me, Megan – what’s happened?’
‘Megan?’ he said questioningly, as if it was a name he was hearing for the first time. ‘Megan?’
‘Yes, Megan – what’s going on, Vic?’
‘Tell the Bad Man to stop, please,’ he said softly. ‘Tell the Bad Man to stop telling me these things, I don’t want to hurt myself. Ask him to stop telling me to hurt myself please, Megan.’
‘What bad man?’ I asked. ‘There’s no one here except us.’
‘THERE IS A BAD MAN!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you hear him? Can’t you hear them all? I’m scared, Megan. Are you scared?’
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