Sorrow, loneliness and frustration caused me to sink deeper into drugs.

After my son was born and I stopped breastfeeding, I heartlessly began smoking hashish again. I smoked anything I could get my hands on and drank about two bottles of whiskey a day, but the funny thing was that I couldn’t get drunk.

The angel/demon would sit beside me and was always touching me or stroking my hair and like a fool, I allowed him because I was afraid to speak out. Once I asked myself, “Why is this creep always touching me?”

The people I considered friends didn’t believe me when I told them what was going on. They would laugh at me and say, “Oh, Fatima, you’ve been smoking too much.”

Everyone thought I had special gifts because I would often foresee things. I would explain to them that the “angel” was the one who revealed these things and that it wasn’t me. But my supposed friends would just laugh at me. They just thought I was high. How could I possibly open up to these people who didn’t believe me? I tried to explain, but…

The “angel” whispered in my ear: “You’re going to be mine. You’re mine! I gave you your husband, now I’m going to get rid of him.” I didn’t understand why all of a sudden the angel was acting so strange and becoming mean to me.

He would tell me: “Kill your son, kill him!” I was petrified but who could I turn to? I went to a witchdoctor and paid him a lot of money. He cast various spells but instead of things getting better, it was the complete opposite; the “angel” became worse. To others it looked like my life was going great, but I was going crazy. I was spinning out of control!

My husband betrayed me with one of my friends. She often came over my house and eventually ended up in bed with him. That was the last straw.

I was heartbroken and at the bottom of a pit. I just wanted to die. The angel/devil would say: “Go ahead, kill yourself. Can’t you see he doesn’t want you? Go ahead, kill yourself! He’s been cheating on you day and night.”

He would always say, “I’m going to put an end to it all” meanwhile my drug use increased. I was in anguish and needed a way out.

I often had nervous breakdowns and broke everything in the house because I felt trapped. And the “angel” tormented me day and night, saying: “Give me your son.” I found myself screaming at him and he would just laugh at me while I threw things around. But how could I hit something that would just disappear? It was driving me crazy. The angel would say: “Can’t you see that nobody wants you? Go ahead, kill yourself. Kill your son and put an end to everything!”

My days were spent this way: apparently looking like a happy person on the outside but deep down, burying my pain and suffering in hashish, cannabis and alcohol. As the days passed, I became extremely thin and very sick, while my husband spent hours, days and weeks with another woman.

Our relationship became a threesome, so they thought, but only I knew that there was actually a fourth person because I considered the angel/devil as my main relationship.

This is when I tried to commit suicide for the first time. I drank bleach, but my son’s godmother found me in time. I was in horrible pain because the bleach severely damaged my throat.

To make myself feel better and get through the daily chores, I decided to hire another maid. She later asked me to be her daughter’s godmother. Despite all my problems, society still looked up to me as a respected successful woman, invited to all the parties, driving expensive cars, travelling to the hottest spots and using lots of drugs. To them I was a social icon. But it was nothing more than lies, deception and frustration; I wore a huge mask.

The maid witnessed several weird situations in the house: eggs under the bed, photographs tied to the foot of the bed; inexplicable things. When I came home, she would try to get an explanation out of me and tried to understand, but I would just turn to her and say, “I need to smoke a joint because this creep is driving me crazy.” And she wondered: “What creep? Your husband?” I answered, “Him too, but I’m talking about the one that’s here now.” She asked, “Who?” “This one.” She turned to me and said, “Oh my God, you must not be feeling well!” I often cried and screamed, but she didn’t understand anything that was going on.

This maid then suffered a terrible tragedy: her husband hanged himself in front of their 5 year old daughter. I knew it was him, the “angel”, that was making these things happen. But how could I ever explain that to anyone?

During this period of my life, my pain increased but my success was also on the rise. The “angel” changed my name. He said: “From now on your artistic name will be Amitaf (Fatima spelled backwards).”

He gave me the gift of being able to write things backwards and counterfeiting. I was able to forge any name, it was strange, but I liked it because it seemed like the “angel” was on my side again.

The name, Amitaf, was acceptable and quickly became very well known. I met an incredibly famous designer and took a course in modelling and etiquette.

I sat at the table with presidents, government ministers and met many high class people. That’s how I got acquainted with a man who worked for Playboy magazine. Later, our paths crossed again.

I continued portraying a happily married woman, but it was all a lie, all false. It was1985/86. It was April, Holy Week. The headaches were constant, but during this time they became unbearable.

I went to a witchdoctor but things just got worse. It seemed like bombs were going off in my head with every step I took. I became bed ridden and the “angel” would just stay there staring at me.

Maria de Fatima da Cruz Carvalho