A pertinent and crucially important memoir exposing the existence and practices of organised criminal groups who abuse children. Written by a survivor of mind control and ritual abuse, who is also a therapist, this moving memoir will help survivors of abuse, and provide important information for professionals about the dissociative brain. Hoffman's poetic prose contrasts with the horror of the subject matter. The adult journeys back to give voice to infant and child parts of her, describing her handlers' early interventions to destroy bonding and create dissociation, the foundation of reverse-Kabbalah suicide and pathway programming, and the installation of mind control. Scenes from ordinary life are interspersed throughout the memoir: Nazi post-war recruitment of American subjects during the 1940s and 50s (including the infamous Dr. Mengele), children used for prostitution, pornography and the drug trade along with the workings of the Illuminati leadership and their international Feast of the Beast rituals are all included. The memoir also covers attempts at recovery, experiences with cult therapists in disguise and finally the author's work with an honest, competent therapist, which led to healing and her brain melding together. Ultimately,  The Enslaved Queen  acknowledges spiritual experiences, the power of love, the memory process, and thoughts on living and surviving a life such as hers. Wendy Hoffman  has published three memoirs,  The   Enslaved Queen   (Karnac Books, 2014, new edition by Aeon Books, 2019),  White Witch in a Black Robe  (Karnac Books, 2016, new edition by Aeon Books, 2019) and  A Brain of My Own  (Aeon Books, 2020, Karnac Books 2023).  The Enslaved Queen  has been translated and published in Germany (Asanger-Verlag, 2021). Her book of poetry,  Forceps,  was also published (Karnac books, 2016) along with a book of essays,  From the Trenches,  written with Dr. Alison Miller (Karnac Books, 2018). Her fourth memoir,  After Amnesia , is published on the SmartNews and Survivorship websites (2022). Her poetry book  Belonging  is forthcoming from Kelsay Books, Fall 2023. The Enslaved Queen A Memoir About Electricity and Mind Control By Wendy Hoffman Aeon Books Ltd Copyright © 2019 Wendy Hoffman All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-911597-83-4 CHAPTER 1 The sell-off If you have a single, undivided mind, it must be difficult to fathom how people could walk around with splits in their mind; how one part of the mind could take over and all the other parts would know nothing of it; how one part of the split mind could make the body do something that none of the other parts would want or remember. I had already had mountains of therapy and thought I was finished with my memories of my childhood and adulthood as a victim of mind control and ritual abuse in a multigenerational family, and the obliteration of my memory by criminal groups. Traumatic remembrances still dribbled out, but my concept of myself held a steady course like a vessel sailing through a fogged night. I had long suspected that my sister and I did not have the same biological parents. Perhaps we had the same father but not the same mother, I thought. We don't look alike but there is something familiar about us. Marlene is stunning with her long straight hair and I'm not. But we have the same overly narrow wrists, one of our eyebrows is almost identical, and we share the same inherited talents and interests. And now that we have aged, we look even more alike. I ignored all that and thought we were too different as people to be full sisters, though I knew this disparity to be common. How could one sister be interested in the recovery of memory and being, and the other adverse? A couple of years ago, Marlene visited her married son in a nearby state with her new boyfriend. They slept over at her son's house. I was invited for the afternoon. I went into their guest bathroom and saw my sister's hairbrush filled with her luscious long hair like a bird's ambitious nest on the sink. With my fingers I combed most of it out and placed it in a plastic bag I happened to have in my purse. I left enough hair in her brush that Marlene wouldn't become suspicious. None of this was premeditated. Once I got back to my home in Baltimore, I called laboratories that specialized in DNA testing. I mailed it and a sample of my saliva to a lab. The DNA report said we were full sisters with the same parents. I was shocked. I had been so sure. I started doubting all my memories. Meanwhile a towel fell off my shower door onto my right little finger and tore a tendon. I went to a hand specialist. While I was in his office, I said, "Would you look at my left little finger and tell me what made it like that?" My mother had told me I was born with a deformed left little finger. There was no reason for me not to believe her, but I didn't. The doctor examined the tip and said in an instant with certainty, "It's an amputation that happened before you w