The Magnus Protocol 47 - Repetitive Strain

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly, must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

I'm Glenn Washington, the host of Snap Judgment from KQED.

Every week, we don't just tell stories, we drop you inside them.

Real people, real voices, real moments that split a life in two.

What do you believe?

What do you risk?

What do you want?

Snap Judgment, new episodes every Thursday, wherever you get your podcast.

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Hi, we are here to talk to you about Sucrabay, a perfumery we love so much.

They have not one, but two official The Magnus Archives perfumes, one inspired by John and Martin, and another inspired by the mysterious Ex Altiora, a book from the library of Jürgen Leitner.

Sucrabae also make official perfumes for our friends over at Old Gods of Appalachia, including Blood and Bone and Unknown Roads.

You should check them out.

Sucrabay is a women-owned and operated perfumery that is vegan and cruelty-free, witchy and sometimes irreverent.

Expect perfumes like You're in a Cult, Call Your Dad, or Vodka and Swearing, the ever-popular Chloroform, or Papa's Waffles.

Sucrabay do a range of exciting and unique fragrances you won't find find anywhere else.

They broadly fit into the following five categories: classic scents that pass the test of time, goth scents, for those who like it dark and mysterious, witchy scents, that are mysterious and potiony, nerdy scents, for all the self-professed nerds out there, and femme scents, the classically floral and sweet scents, but we recommend them for anyone of any gender.

Sucrabay's small batch perfumes are not like any other.

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RustyQuill Quill presents

The Magnus Protocol

Episode 47 Repetitive Strain

Please remember to knock before coming into my office, Celia.

You were the one who called me in here.

Nevertheless.

Nevertheless, what, Gwen?

Anyway, I've called you in here because this is the second time this week you've turned up late.

Look, can we just not?

Not tonight, please.

Now, I know we're all feeling the strain at the moment, but that just means it's even more important that we do our job straight.

And what exactly is your job, Gwen?

Because while I'm out there sorting everyone's caseloads on my own, you just seem to be sat in here twiddling your thumbs, watching everything go to hell.

I'm not twiddling my thumbs.

No, sometimes you get up and pace aimlessly.

I can see you from here.

You haven't even checked your messages yet.

Is everything okay at home, Celia?

We are done here.

I decide when we're done.

Just

try not to let it happen again.

Hey, this is Inksol.

I'm after

Lena Kelly.

Got your card from your assistant, girl, before she legged it.

I've been thinking, and yeah, maybe I overreacted.

I'm in a bad place now, so I thought

why not?

That's here the offer.

So yeah, call me back if you're still interested, bring the paperwork around or or not, whatever.

Hi, is that uh Grace?

This is Gwendolyn Bouchard.

Never heard of ya.

You chased me out of your warehouse.

You killed a man with his own tattoos in front of me.

Doesn't ring a bell.

I'm with the OIAR.

Oh,

the trash poker princess.

How you doing?

You changed your mind about the ink.

What?

No.

I'm calling about the contract I offered you.

You're gonna have to speak up.

I'm working.

One sec.

Sorry.

Where were we?

The contract.

Oh, right, yeah.

So.

time I was in a real Isle and Bird Curse kind of era, but turns out there's loads of us out here, and a bunch of them do gigs for you guys, and they totally talked me around.

So, yeah, just bring the paperwork over and I'll get it signed, and we can get started.

I'm afraid I can't do that.

You are.

We don't have a contract for you.

It's this about the whole warehouse thing.

You don't need

Say again.

The woman who wanted to contract you has been fired.

The OIAR is under new management, and that means no more work for unstable externals.

No more free victims and special favours.

I'm in charge now, and we're going to be doing things properly.

My way.

Who the fuck are you calling Unstable?

You don't need to get all bent out of shape about it.

Right.

What do I tell the others?

Tell them.

Tell them the buffet is closed.

Oh.

Oh, I'll tell them.

You

have no idea.

You are so completely.

Oh, for Christ's sake!

HMP Downview, Surrey, Internal Records.

Notice to prisoner.

Restriction of communications.

Prisoner details.

Surname, Lively.

Forename, Sarah.

Date of birth, 1706, 1985.

Prison, HMP Downview.

Establishment, same.

Cell location, wing C, cell, 17.

Restricted person details, surname, Jex.

Forename, Eleanor Sophie.

Restriction details.

Time period, 06-05-2024.

Contact, written letter.

Grounds for restriction, victim harassment.

Communication reads.

Sarah Lively, you have been restricted from contacting the above-mentioned person on the following grounds.

Victim harassment.

The decision to restrict you from contacting this individual has not been taken lightly as establishment is committed to maintaining ties with family and friends.

Restriction of communications is not part of any form of punishment, but we are committed to make our establishment a safe and secure environment for prisoners, visitors and staff and to safeguard the public where necessary.

The restriction will be reviewed on 01, 09, 20, 24.

You may appeal against this decision by using the formal complaints procedure, available on your residential unit for the attention of the head of security and operations.

A digitised copy of this message and the attached letter will be held in your permanent record.

Regards.

Adder, MK.

HMP Downview.

Security Manager.

Attachment reads.

Hi, Elle.

I don't know why I'm writing this.

There's no way they'll let it get through security, and even if they do, there's no way you would open it.

Why would you?

But I need to write this.

I need something, somewhere, that says what actually happened, even if no one ever believes it.

So if by some miracle you're reading this, then I need you to know.

I'm not sorry.

I'm sorry for hurting you.

I'm sorry that you had to go through all this awfulness.

I'm sorry that I broke your family, but I'm not sorry for what I did.

Your brother deserved what happened, and I think you know that, even if you can't believe it right now.

I'd been going to therapy for six months when I decided to get a tattoo.

I needed an anchor, something concrete I could look at, something he couldn't pretend didn't happen because it would be right there, reminding me of myself.

At least, that was the idea.

I don't care what Dr.

Sutcliffe said in court, though.

It wasn't an impulse decision.

Sutcliffe had discussed it with me weeks beforehand and had even made me fill in a questionnaire about it.

There's no way I could even have gotten a walk-in session with someone like Inksol.

It doesn't work like that.

They could have told you that themselves if they had testified.

We had this whole email chain over weeks because I wanted this too shall pass and she kept saying she needed creative freedom.

That is until I agreed to pay double.

I'd have copies of all of this and more if David hadn't deleted my accounts.

Not that it would make a difference.

I went to their pop-up studio and got the work done and it looked good.

Great even.

Though it hurt far worse than my first tattoo.

They said I shouldn't cover it, but obviously I had to hide it.

I got home alright and even managed to keep it secret at first, but that evening he grabbed my forearm.

It hurt like hell and I cried out.

Then...

Well, it went about as well as you would expect.

I don't know why that was the night I left him.

But something about smearing my tattoo, the one thing that was meant to be outside his power?

It hurt.

And more than just my arm.

The fine line work was already coming apart and I remember thinking I couldn't imagine a more bitter reminder of why I needed to leave.

I already had a go bag stashed in my wardrobe and a jar of cash behind the loo.

It was Dr.

Sutcliffe who suggested that.

I was ready to feel a pull to stay.

A guilt or something, but the only thing I thought as I tipped out out of the front door was, thank God we never had kids.

I got in the cab and just told him to start driving.

He wanted to know where, but I didn't know.

I could barely speak.

All I could say was away, please.

And then it was quiet.

Blissfully, almost painfully quiet.

Just the hum of the engine, the rain drumming on the windows, and the yellow motorway lamplights sweeping past in time with my heartbeat.

Again.

And again.

And

when I woke up in bed with him the next morning, I honestly thought I was dead.

I had died in the car and now I was in hell.

It was the only possible explanation that made sense to me.

I began to scream, but managed to choke it back.

Instead, I slipped out of bed and checked the wardrobe to find my bag exactly where it always was.

My cash jar was the same.

It was only when I came back in from the bathroom that David opened his eyes.

Then he rolled over.

And that was that.

I went downstairs and made him breakfast.

After he'd left, I spent the morning cleaning and tidying as always, so by the time my therapy session came round, I'd already had hours to rationalise what happened as a dream.

A vivid, cruel, and traumatic dream, but a dream nonetheless.

So, as normal, I checked David wasn't due back, locked myself in the bathroom, and dialed into the session.

It began the same as any other, but when I told Sutcliffe that I'd gone for the tattoo session, he suddenly interrupted me to criticise such impulsive behaviour.

I laughed, but he was dead serious.

And when I mentioned the questionnaire he'd had me do, he'd just looked at me sceptically and muttered in his quiet way, That's not how I remember it.

That chilled me.

I don't know how long I sat there in the bathroom after that session, just thinking or thinking about thinking or not thinking at all.

Finally, I'd looked down to my arm, looking for some reassurance, something permanent.

Thankfully it was still there and still hurting with the design still smeared by David the day before.

The word shall was ruined, but it was still just about legible.

This too

shall pass.

I resolved myself to leave that night.

I didn't know what was going on with Sutcliffe, but it didn't matter.

I'd always swore I would leave if he left a mark, and this had to count.

The nightmare was just a premonition.

So I went through the rest of the day as expected.

Dinner was ready for when he came in, and I nodded in all the right places as he complained about his day.

In bed, I waited till he started snoring, then counted to 500 so that I knew he was really gone.

Then I grabbed the go bag and the cash and slipped out again.

This time I didn't take a taxi, I just started walking.

I didn't keep track of the time, but I must have been walking hours.

My legs ached and my feet had blistered, but I didn't care.

Every step I could feel myself getting away, feel it all fading away beneath my boots.

I was thinking this as I made it to some farmland not far from the M3 and leant against a fence, watching the little parcel of horizon I could see as it crept towards dawn.

It was going to be a beautiful sunrise.

Then I woke up in bed.

There was no falling asleep, no transition.

Just one moment I was stood waiting for a new day and the next I was waking up to him again.

He opened his eyes and looked deep into mine, then finally muttered, What?

before rolling over.

I bit my lip so hard it bled, then gently slipped out of bed and made breakfast.

David left for work early, then I carried on with the chores.

Eventually I went up to change the sheets, and that was when I saw the stain.

A stain from a blister that had burst on my foot.

A walking blister.

Seeing that stain was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over my head.

I suddenly began panting and stared down at my tattoo, hunting for that reassurance, but I could barely see the words.

In fact, as I stared at it, the whole thing seemed to twist into dirty, irregular, and ugly lines that now read, Nothing shall pass.

I did scream then.

Long and deep and loud.

I screamed and screamed with rage and anger and pain.

I screamed till I was hoarse and it felt like I was ripping my own throat out.

Then I stopped screaming, changed the sheets, and took the dirties to the washing machine.

Dinner was ready for when he came in.

I nodded in all the right places as he complained about his day and then after he went upstairs and fell asleep, I slipped in after him and

I counted to 500 again after he stopped snoring, even though there was no way he was waking up.

Not after losing that much blood.

I'll be honest, Elle.

It felt so good.

So unbelievably freeing to finally cut him loose, knowing that there would be no consequences.

No punishment, no guilt, just another reset, and then everything would be like it was.

I actually laughed out loud when I realised I could feel this way every single day and no one would ever know.

I decided to go for a walk afterwards, stretch my legs, see if I could catch that beautiful dawn again before the reset.

The police picked me up about 20 hours after you found him and called it in.

I was still waiting for the reset that never came.

I'm sure you think I'm crazy.

My own therapist said as much to a jury and all the evidence at the trial showed the same, but even so, I just need you to know that killing your brother wasn't my first choice.

That said, I don't regret it, even though it's stuck and there's no going back this time.

Trust me, it's better this way.

I'm just sorry I hurt you when I freed myself.

Look after yourself, Elle.

With all my love, Sarah.

Jack

Alice?

Hey, Celia, can you hear me?

I'm in the airport, and this signal's crap.

No, yeah, I hear you.

Did you get a flight in the end?

Yeah, it was a massive ball ache, but the long story, don't worry about it.

I'm just glad to hear you're all good.

Sorry it didn't pan out.

Wasn't a complete bust.

And hey, at least I made a terrifying new friend.

Listen, while I finally have you, have you made any progress with Sam at your end?

I haven't been getting any updates.

Oh,

well, I mean, Gwen's been pushing me pretty hard while you've been gone.

So, push her back.

Off a cliff, preferably.

I just mean I've not had much time.

I'm doing four people's caseloads, and so what?

You haven't got anything?

I didn't say that.

Fine, whatever.

I'll be there tomorrow.

Bring whatever you've got, and you can catch me up there.

Sure,

right?

I've got to go.

Talk later.

Alice, good.

Yeah, it's fine.

I'm fine.

Alice good.

You are certain.

It's nothing.

She's not sleeping.

The child is perhaps keeping her up.

Little ones are always the loudest.

What?

Do not worry, Lipkian.

You did not let it slip.

You were very careful.

But I can smell these things, Vice Du.

I won't let you hurt them.

You could not stop me.

But this does not matter.

I do not want to harm them.

You know this.

I have a gift for the boy.

You will take it to him.

Listen, I appreciate all your help.

I do.

But I'm not going to give my friend's kid a gift from...

Well,

forget yourself.

And worse,

you forget me.

You can take this gift, or I can take your life.

It is your choice.

Why?

Because I am the toy maker.

I am Heinrich von Heinrich.

I am polite, yes, but I am not kind.

Now choose.

Fuck, do it then.

Do it.

I do like you very much, Alice.

What?

There is no choice for you.

The toy is already in your bag.

I look forward to your efforts to be rid of it.

I

no,

I chose to.

Utrahaiser, Alice,

is bald.

The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by RustyQuill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 international license.

The series is created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J.

Newell and directed by Alexander J.

Newell.

This episode was written by Alexander J.

Newell and edited with additional materials by Jonathan Sims.

With vocal edits by Nico Vitesse, soundscaping by Meg McKellar and mastering by Catherine Rinella with music by Sam Jones.

It featured Billy Hindle as Alice Dyer, Anuja Battersby as Gwen Bouchard, Lorianne Davis as Celia Ripley, with additional voices from Alexander Jane Euro.

The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner with executive producers Alexander Jane Euro, Danny McDonough, Lynn C.

and Samantha F.

G.

Hamilton, and associate producers Jordan L.

Hawke, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius DeRaven, and Megan Nice.

To subscribe, view associated materials, or join our Patreon, visit rustyquill.com.

Rate and review us online, tweet us at The RustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us at mail at rustyquill.com.

Thanks for listening.

Hi, we are here to talk to you about Sucrabay, a perfumery we love so much.

They have not one, but two official The Magnus Archives perfumes, one inspired by John and Martin, and another inspired by the mysterious Ex Altiora, a book from the library of Jürgen Leitner.

Sucrabay also make official perfumes for our friends over at Old Gods of Appalachia, including Blood and Bone and Unknown Roads.

You should check them out.

Sucrebae is a women-owned and operated perfumery that is vegan and cruelty-free, witchy, and sometimes irreverent.

Expect perfumes like You're in a Cult, Call Your Dad, or Vodka and Swearing, the ever-popular Chloroform, or Papa's Waffles.

Sucrabay do a range of exciting and unique fragrances you won't find anywhere else.

They broadly fit into the following five categories: classic scents that pass the test of time, goth scents for those who like it dark and mysterious.

Witchy scents that are mysterious and potion-y, nerdy scents, for all the self-professed nerds out there, and femme scents, the classically floral and sweet scents, but we recommend them for anyone of any gender.

Sucrabay's small batch perfumes are not like any other.

You can find out more by going to www.rustyquirl.com forward slash perfume.

That's rusticquirl.com forward slash P-E-R-F-U-M-E.

Also, you can join the supportive and kind Sucra Bay community with over 18,000 members on Facebook at facebook.com forward slash groups forward slash sucrabay.

That's S-U-C-R-E-A-B-E-I-L-L-E.

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratches from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

Must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

Hey, I'm Paige DeSorbo, and I'm always thinking about underwear.

I'm Hannah Berner, and I'm also thinking about underwear, but I prefer full coverage.

I like to call them my granny panties.

Actually, I never think about underwear.

That's the magic of Tommy John.

Same, they're so light and so comfy, and if it's not comfortable, I'm not wearing it.

And the bras, soft, supportive, and actually breathable.

Yes, Lord knows the girls need to breathe.

Also, I need my PJs to breathe and be buttery soft and stretchy enough for my dramatic tossing and turning at night.

That's why I live in my Tommy John pajamas.

Plus, they're so cute because they fit perfectly.

Put yourself on to Tommy John.

Upgrade your drawer with Tommy John.

Save 25% for a limited time at tommyjohn.com/slash comfort.

See site for details.

Hi, everyone.

It's Billy Hindel.

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