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Someone in charge insisted that they come back to the Base, even though he knew I was seriously injured. Orders had to be obeyed, and my parents reluctantly went. The ramifications for insubordination were significant and depended on the wrath and power of the person you disobeyed. My parents didn’t want to displease their senior and suffer the consequences. After all, it was for the greater good.
    After my parents left, Pat remained with me and took me to the doctor’s office for an X-ray the next morning. My knee was indeed fractured. The only thing the doctor could do for me was to wrap it in an ACE Bandage.
    I was back at the nursery two days later. My leg hurt so much that my limp caused me to lag behind during our daily strolls along Franklin Avenue. Rather than slow the group down, the teacher would become irritated at me and tell me to hurry up. She seemed to think I was putting on an act. B. J. defended me, telling her that my knee was fractured.
    “Well if you fall behind, you are going to get left behind,” she scolded. She told me that I needed to “make it go right!” This was a common Scientology saying, which referred to the Church’s belief in mind over matter. All I had to do was not let the pain dominate my thoughts, and it wouldn’t feel as bad. A few months passed before my knee finally stopped hurting.
    Right before my fifth birthday, Justin told me he was leaving L.A. and going to live at a place called the Ranch. I didn’t know what the Ranch was or where it was, but I didn’t want him to leave me. I already saw so little of Mom and Dad. He said it was close to where they were living and he would come and visit me once in a while, like they did. To make things worse, Taryn was going, too. I didn’t know how to feel, but I didn’t like it.
    Now, with no one to pick us up, B. J. and I had to stay at the afterschool nursery, where we waited for Pat, who would usually come to get us around 8 p.m., except on Thursdays when she had to work late—often past midnight. All the kids at the after-school nursery ate dinner sitting on the kitchen floor, took an evening shower, played a little, then went to bed on one of the cots lined against the wall of the living room. This was where I first learned about touch assists. We were taught to perform them on each other before bedtime each night. We would be paired with another child and instructed to use one finger to touch him or her on the arm. The touch assists were procedures created by LRH to put the Thetans into better communication with our bodies, so as to improve the healing process.
    “Feel my finger?” I would say to my partner, who was supposed to say, “Yes.”
    I’d say, “Good,” and repeat the exercise on the other arm. We would all do this on each other’s fingers, toes, arms, legs, and face. I didn’t totally understand the concept. I just knew the touch assists helped put me to sleep.
    While many of the kids stayed there overnight, B. J. and I got a pickup, when Pat took us home and put us in our own beds, or my parents’ bed, where she would sleep with me. She was amazingly nice, and I loved her very much. On Sundays, she would pick us up at the apartment and take us back to the nursery after my parents left for Int.
    Every few months, Pat or Rosemary would take me to an international Scientology gathering, which was usually held in the Shrine Auditorium, a huge entertainment hall and expo center on West 32nd Street. Hundreds of Scientologists and Sea Org members, some from the Los Angeles area and some from the Int Base, would be in attendance. Pat would always dress me up and curled my hair for the occasions. Together, we’d sit in the audience and listen to the speeches. I didn’t know what the presenters were talking about, but my father would often be one of the featured speakers. Seeing him at the podium, I would get so excited that I would scream out, “Hi, Daddy! I’m over here,” and wave madly.
    If my Uncle Dave