A Safe Place By James
Disclaimer
This story deals with sexual as well as romantic situations between teenaged males. Should you not be of the legal age to read such materials or if you're offended by such stories, then please find something else to read. I can be reached at vector18@msn.com for anyone who wants to communicate about the story or anything else. Flames though, will be ignored.
Also, please remember to donate to Nifty, as it keeps these stories and related materials free to the public.
Chapter 31
Richie walked up to the front of the prison and watched as the guard approached him. The man had a tired look on his face, as if he saw too much of this kind of environment. The man stopped and held out a bag containing Richie's clothes, an envelope with $250.00 and a paper he needed to sign. Richie signed, then walked out and up to the bus waiting for him. He knew exactly where he was going first.
The house was quiet and dark. Richie watched it as the bus pulled away. He was at a bus stop, but he could still see the house from a distance. He smiled and put his hand in his pocket. The large hunting knife he bought with some of the money they gave to him felt nice in his hand. He bought it on his way home and luckily, the driver didn't question him. The knife was 12 inches long, sharper than any knife he had ever seen and looked good when he held it.
He began walking, and soon he was at the front door of his old home. It looked the same and he felt around and found the key under the welcome matt. He smiled at how his parents did that when hardly anyone left the spare key in that area these days. He quietly unlocked the door and slowly and silently went in, closing and locking the door behind him. He then turned on a flashlight he also bought and shined it around. He found the phone in the kitchen. He disconnected it, then found the other phone in his father's office. He disconnected that one as well, then he went to his own room. He looked around and saw all the stuff as it had been. It was like nothing had ever changed. He went to the shelves where his DVDs and books were. He found all the books and cut them to shreds with the knife. He then smashed all the DVDs and then he looked in the closet for his collection of "Pictures", the ones that made him feel so good and dirty at the same time. They were gone. For a moment, he felt rage grip him, then he remembered that they had been taken. He closed the door and then walked out of his room, then down the hall to his parents' room. He quietly opened the door and shined his light on the two of them.
He stepped in to the room and went to the closet and opened it. He found several long dresses which he cut in to long strips. He carefully went to the bed and as carefully as he could, began binding them to the bed. They were waking up now, but that couldn't be helped. He stood after they were restrained and he shined his light in their slowly opening eyes.
"W'''W'''W'''What is this?" his mom said and then opened her eyes all the way then tried to move.
"Who are you!" his dad yelled.
"Not so fucking loud," Richie said in a hateful whisper. "We wouldn't want the people in the house next to us to hear now would we?"
"Richie?" he said unbelieving.
"You recognize my voice, even after all this time," Richie replied. "Good for fucking you."
"We can't move," his mom said beginning to get scared.
"No, of course not," he said. "Glad you figured that out. Bitch."
"Richie," she said scared completely now.
"Well, that's what you are," he said.
"Richie, please," his dad said looking at him.
"Please?" he said sneering at him. "Please? I always love when people say that, as if the attacker is going to listen to reason suddenly and let them go."
"How did you even get here?" his mom asked.
"Oh come on Bitch," he said laughing. "Didn't you get the fucking memo they send when a prisoner's family is told that they're getting out of prison for good behavior?"
"I saw it," his dad replied. "I actually didn't believe it though, given what you did."
"What I did," Richie said now in a fiery-hot rage. "What I did! What about what you and your cunt beside you did! What about how the two of you never believed me when I told you what Marc was doing to me!"
In spite of himself, he was crying. This made him even more angry and he wiped at his eyes with angry hard swipes of his hand. He then picked up the knife and let the light shine on it. They gave gasps of horror and he then looked in both of their eyes. He loved what he saw, that mixture of fear, panic, sadness, helplessness and understanding, the understanding that this was the end now, that no one would come to their rescue and save them.
"Richie," his dad said crying now. "Please, just let us go and we'll fix this! We'll find Marc and we'll make him pay! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't believe you back then!"
"I'm sorry too!" his mom screamed as she cried. "I'm more sorry than you could ever know!"
"Shut up Bitch!" he screamed and moved to the other side of the bed and bent down close to her. "Now, we're going to play a game. Do you like games?"
"Richie," she pleaded.
"Sorry Bitch," he said smiling a hateful smile. "The answer is either "Yes" or "No". The name "Richie" isn't one of them. Unless of course the English Language has changed drastically in the past couple of years that I've been away. Never mind though, I'll assume that you both love games. That's good, because we're going to play a fun game. I'm going to ask you a couple of questions, then you answer them. If you lie when answering, I'll know. At that point, I'll remove a fingernail for each answer you get wrong. Since I'm talking to you right now Bitch, you're going first. The spineless Bastard beside you will have to watch. Do we understand one another?"
"Please," she whimpered.
Richie put down the knife for a moment and slapped her hard across the face.
"I asked if we understand each other!" he screamed in her face.
"Y'''Y'''Y'''Yes," she sobbed.
"I understand," his father said shaking uncontrollably.
"I didn't have my head turned in your direction, therefor I wasn't speaking to you!" Richie yelled at him. "Now shut the fuck up!"
"Now Bitch," he said almost soothingly. "Here's the first question. What did you do when I first came to you about Marc?"
"Richie!" she said as she shook in terror. "I was in shock when you'''!"
"Oh damn," he said. "That's your first lie. Off goes a nail."
"No!" she screamed as he used the knife and did what he said he would.
Her screams filled the room and he looked to the left to see his father struggling against the cloth binding him tightly to the bed.
"Stop struggling!" Richie roared at him. "And you cunt, stop screaming right now!"
Her screams dissolved in to crying and he smiled.
"Last chance," he said. "What did you do when I told you about what Marc was doing to me?"
"I didn't think it was real," she said sobbing hard. "I just thought it was a story! I didn't know what to think!"
"What was the result of you doing nothing?" Richie asked.
"I don't understand the question," she said. "He eventually left didn't he?"
"Lying Bitch!" he roared and cut out another nail. She screamed long and loud, then he moved closer. "Answer the fucking question!"
"He continued doing it!" she yelled.
"Doing it?" Richie asked. "What does "It" mean? What did he keep doing you fucking cunt!"
"He kept hurting you!" she screamed.
"That's a fucking lie!" Richie roared. "Using the word "Hurting" is a word you fucks use to cover up the reality of what people like him really do! So say it! Say what he did to me and then kept doing! Fucking say it to me now!"
"Rape!" she shrieked. "It was rape! He raped you! He raped you, and hurt you really badly! We should have stopped it and we didn't believe you! I'm soooooo sorry we didn't listen to you back then!"
Richie repeated the process with his father and after it was over, he too was missing a couple of nails and Richie was continuing to enjoy his game.
"So what now," his dad asked after a long silence.
"You both confessed, so now comes the sentence," Richie said smiling cruelly. "You didn't think that that was the end of it did you? No, we're just starting. Aren't you guys having fun? I am. Now that you both have gotten through the questioning phase, now it's time for the punishment phase to begin."
"No, please!" his mother yelled. "We've answered your questions! Please let us go and we'll never bother you again!"
"No Bitch," he said hatefully. "Now, I want to ask if you've gotten right with God? That's an important question to ask."
"I guess," she said.
"I've been right with God for a long time," his father said. "Why do you ask though?"
"Because, you'll be seeing him very soon," Richie replied. "It's time for you guys to pay in that ultimate way for what you have done. Don't worry though, it won't hurt as bad as you fear that it will, in fact, it's going to hurt worse than anything either of you could ever have imagined in your lives. In case you both are wondering, I'll be finding Marc soon and then I'll take care of him, but you guys are first. If you're wondering, I have something very special in mind for both of you. You know how they say that it's not what's on the outside that matters, but what's on the inside? Well, I'm going to show you both what it looks like inside of each of you. Enjoy. I'll start with you Bitch."
He stepped up to his mother and lifted his hand in the air and allowed the light to shine on the blade. He brought it down and sliced from the beginning of her chest and down to her pubis. Her screams were long, loud and full of exquisite agony and pain, physical as well as emotional. He continued working, and all while he worked, he never stopped looking in to her eyes.
Outside in the darkness, the silence was filled with her long and loud screams which were now accompanied by her husband's screams of fear. As the screams went on, the insects kept up their singing and the stars continued shining and the moon continued to shine down on the house which was no longer a home, but a human slaughter house.
Once Richie finished his attack, he looked down. He breathed in, enjoying the thick metallic smell of blood. He then looked at their ruined bodies and smiled. Now it was time to find Marc, the source of the whole problem. He looked through a phonebook and found his number. He called it and waited.
"We're sorry, the number you dialed is no longer in service," the computerized operator's voice said. It went on to give the new number.
Richie called it and a man's voice answered.
"Marc?" Richie said.
"Who wants to know?" he asked. "Who's this?"
He was more awake now and Richie smiled.
"Marc Grant?" he asked.
"I said who is this!" Marc said getting angry now.
Richie hung up and then after getting directions to the house along with the address, he found his parents' car and drove away in to the night.
0000
Michael
I drove along watching the car as it sped away. Richie, Kevin Robert's rapist had been on our radar for the past couple of years since he had been in prison. We knew from the police reports that he was likely to offend once again should he get out of prison for any reason and now he had, for good behavior of course.
One of our men put a tracking device in Richie's shirt which was in the bag he took with him once he got out of prison. The device was stitched in to the cloth, it was that small and then. We watched him and we were tracking him to Marc Grant's house. We knew that Grant was his cousin who raped him when he was a kid and though I myself didn't have any love for Grant, given my own rape I went through back at 15 by Larry Marks, I still had a responsibility to make sure Richie didn't do anything to him and it was clear from what our tracker was revealing, that he was intent on doing something.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I paused the music and answered the call.
"Yeah, Williams," I said. "What's going on Robin?"
"Damion and Chad found something in Richie's house," he said.
Robin, was Robin Lee and Chad, was Chad Andrews, who was Josh, my husband's father. They were running security, or mainly, they were watching my back. I was going to try and stop Richie if I could.
"What did they find Robin?" I asked.
"He slaughtered them!" Robin said horrified.
Robin was cool under pressure most of the time, so if he was upset now, then it must have been bad.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You are at his former home aren't you, where his parents lived?"
"Yeah, we are," he replied. "And "Lived" is the key word. We found the spare key under the welcome mat and we found his prints all over it. He must have used it to gain entry to the house and when he got in, he killed them. I saw the bodies. He ripped out a couple of fingernails on one hand of both of them, then he cut them then eviscerated them. He then skinned them."
"You're not being hyperbolic for effect are you?" I asked.
"No!" Robin almost yelled in to the phone. "Sorry, I've just never seen anything like this before."
"Okay," I said in my voice I used for counseling, a soft and calm voice. "Have one of our men get the bodies and you go to Marc Grant's house, that's Richie's cousin. I fear that he is close to the house now, or that he's already there and that he might do something to him. Marc was the one who raped Richie and we're certain that that's what began this whole thing with Richie doing what he did to kids and especially to Kevin Roberts. I'm on my way there and actually, I'm getting closer to it now and so I'll end up beating you there."
"I'll do that," he replied.
I ended the call after we said goodbye, then I was at Marc's house in less than a couple of minutes. I got out and went up to the house and saw much to my horror, that the door was standing opened.
"No," I said just above a whisper. "No, I can't be too late."
I went in and the lights were on in the kitchen and living room. I saw a body on the kitchen floor. It was a woman and I found her I.D. in her wallet which was on the table. She was either a friend, or his girlfriend. I looked down at her and saw that the body was not so much that any longer, but a large mass of ripped-apart tissue and organs floating in blood. I then went to the living room and saw what was left of Marc. I had to look at his I.D. card and then at him to be sure. Pathology would have to be brought in to identify him for sure, but I was sure it was him. He was killed in the same way as his lady friend, with the exception of his sexual organs being ripped off and most likely lying somewhere in the mound of flesh and entrails. I then heard a noise from the back of the house. I went and shined my light down the hall and saw a bedroom door opened. I carefully went up to the door and shined my light around and saw movement. It was a rat with sharpened teeth and red eyes that looked at me. It hissed, growled, then snapped its teeth at me. It ran up to me and I pulled out my revolver and pulled back the hammer on it. It snapped its teeth at me again, then moved back in to the center of the room and then disappeared in a hole in the lower right-hand corner of the opposite wall. I felt my skin crawling and I quickly turned and went back in to the kitchen.
Once back-up had arrived, I left and got back in my car. I didn't want to have to make the next call that I was about to make.
0000
Kevin
I awoke to someone shaking me. I was deeply asleep before then, but I was waking up. The hand kept shaking me and I turned on my back and opened my eyes. I thought I was dreaming and blinked a couple of times. I then held my gaze steady and took in the bright-red hair and hateful smile.
"No, it can't be," I said. "It isn't."
"It is," he said. "Hi Kevin, did you miss me. If you think of screaming, I'll slit loverboy's throat lying there next to you."
Cody was lying next to me and was asleep, but I knew he wouldn't be for long. I then saw him moving, then he turned on his back and now, his eyes were opened. I turned to him and put a hand over his mouth and he tried to get it off.
"Listen to me," I said in a sharp whisper. "This is Richie. He's out of prison somehow, and if you scream, he's going to kill you and probably make me watch."
"That's right," Richie said smiling. "You figured me out just like that."
"It wasn't hard to do," I replied. "You were cruel enough to rape me, record it and threaten to put it online, what else wouldn't you do."
"Well, just so you know, Mommy and Daddy are tied up," he said. "They're tied up in their bedroom and I made them take a couple of sleeping pills. Don't worry, I didn't over-dose them, but I will if you don't do as I say. Caleb and whoever that fag is in bed with him are sleeping as well, by the same method as are your parents. So is Alicia, so it's just you, Blondie and I."
"What Richie?" I asked sitting up. "What do you want?"
"To destroy you," he said smiling. "I want you to suffer for the rest of your life as I'm doing."
He then told me about Marc and what he had done to him when he was a kid, then he told me about what he did to Marc that evening before coming to my house.
"He was evil for what he did to you," I began. "But that gave you no right'''."
My words were cut off as he slapped me hard across the face.
"I had every right!" Richie screamed to the top of his voice just inches from my face. "Do you have any idea what that fucking Cunt did to me all those years ago! He all but Killed me! You know I used to go outside when I was a little kid before that sick fuck came in to my life! You know I used to look at the sunny day before me and watch the trees, birds and other animals and feel so free and joyful! I felt like anything was possible, like I would have a happy life, then "He" came in to my life and ended that! The fuckers who knew about it, and there were people who knew about it and they were my parents; they did nothing, nothing! That part has been taken care of though, I slaughtered them just before finding Marc and doing the same to him, then I came here!"
I watched him angrily wipe tears from his face, then he looked at me.
"Then you went and did it to others," I answered back. "To me, and now I have to live with it as well. Have you once even thought of that?"
"It wasn't like I forced you to do what you did with me when we were together back then," Richie said as he watched me.
I felt the rage take hold of me and I was on him. I tackled him to the floor and punched him several times in the face.
"Who are you to talk of choice and who forced who to do anything you Bastard!" I screamed and my hands found his throat. Before I could close them around his neck, he shoved me off of him and kicked me in the groin.
"Kevvy!" Cody yelled and got off the bed.
Richie was on him and he beat him several times. I somehow found another ounce of both strength and rage. Even through the pain which was lighting up my balls, then creeping up in to my abdomen, I found the strength to get up. I grabbed Richie from behind as he was trying to strangle Cody. I grabbed his arms and got them off of him.
I pulled him back and slammed him to the floor. I then saw the knife in his belt and I grabbed it. I threw it as far as I could and as Richie tried to get up, I grabbed his arms and began bending them in positions which they weren't meant to be directed. He screamed and I liked it, I loved it actually. I bent them back and then heard a glorious snapping of bones.
"Sorry," I said. "I changed my mind about not taking the law in to one's own hands."
I began beating him as hard as I possibly could. I felt his arms break, his ribs crush in and I went to work on his face. I then began kicking him with savage kicks to his abdomen and to his balls. I got harder with each one, I couldn't help it. I pictured in my mind, him beating Cody, him raping me back then and then pictured what he had done to the rest of my family. I then heard a scream from the doorway. I knew that it was Justin. I turned and saw him standing in the doorway.
"Justin get out of here!" I yelled. "Go get one of the phones and call the police!"
"I tried the phones," he said. "I woke up when I heard the noises and tried the phones in the kitchen and in your parents' bedroom. They've been cut."
"Just get out of here!" I yelled again. He ran from the door and I heard a door slam down the hall. He had gone back to his bedroom.
"Now you sick fuck," I said when I turned back to Richie. "Guess you didn't know about Justin, did you."
He tried to speak, but couldn't. I then heard a crash come from the kitchen. I then heard footsteps running for our hallway, then two sets of footsteps running for my room. I turned and ran at them and grabbed a hand-full of cloth. I yanked them in to the room and turned them around so I could see them. It was Michael.
"You can let go of me," he said with a fearful look on his face.
"Sorry," I said.
He looked down at Richie and a shocked look came over his face.
"You fucked him up bad," he said softly.
"You're damn right I did," I replied.
I went over to Cody who was holding his hands to his face.
"It's okay now," I said. "Let me see."
I looked and his nose was bleeding and his lip was busted. I got tissues and had him hold them to his nose and he thanked me.
I turned and saw Michael facing the other guy who was in the room with us.
"Get the rest of the house searched," he said.
"You'll find my parents tied up in their bed," I said. "This sick fuck on the floor gave them pills to make them sleep from their own meds supply. He did the same for everyone, accept for Justin, our cousin. You stay here with Cody and I'll go find Justin," I said this to Michael and then went out of the room.
0000
Michael
I had Cody go to the main bathroom which was near the kitchen and I went back in to the bedroom where it was now just Richie and I.
I stood there and thought over the process. He'd clearly be sent back to prison, but for how long. I knew that we would probably get a different judge to sentence him, unless the judge was some bleeding-heart type who wanted to give probation. It wouldn't ever end, unless the ultimate happened. I closed then locked the door to Kevin's bedroom and went up to Richie with my gun pulled and the hammer back.
"Hear that, you sick fuck," I said bending down close to him.
"It hurts!" he said sobbing. "It hurts so bad!"
"I'm sure it does," I replied. "Funny thing though, you don't seem to care that it hurts really bad for the kids you raped, or for Kevin or for Marc or your parents. Don't misunderstand me, what Marc did to you was sick, but we could have taken care of him had you only called us before you killed him. That being said though, there's still the issue of you and what will probably happen to you.
You might get additional prison time, probation or a light term in prison should they not give life. Furthermore, there's the fact that when you get right down to it, unless something is done with you forever, then it'll never end for other innocent children, much less for Kevin and his family."
"What the fuck are you trying to say?" he asked with a hateful smile.
"Nothing," I replied. "Except for the fact that if I had enough hate for you as you clearly have for Marc, your parents and Kevin and his family, then I could easily blow your fucking head off right here, right now."
"Then of course, you'd be no better than I am," he responded.
"Don't fucking push me you little Bastard," I said just above a whisper.
I kept my gun on him and backed up then unlocked the door and after more of the team came in, they picked him up and took him from the house.
I went and checked everyone out and after I made sure that we got them to the hospital, I went back and after making sure that Richie was locked in his hospital room and that guards were standing on either side of the door outside of the room, I left to go back to the house.
Once back at the house, I made sure it was locked up and I checked on the kids and then I got back in bed with Josh.
0000
Richie lay in his hospital bed with casts on his arms, legs and one that enveloped his torso. He felt more afraid and everything flashed before his eyes. He remembered what Marc did to him, what he did to some of the other kids and then to Kevin. He also had dreams where all the kids were stumbling towards him and he saw fangs extending from their mouths and sharp nails growing rapidly from their fingers and they would close in and begin to rip him apart. These dreams went on all night and when he awoke around 4:00 A.M. that morning, he looked to his left towards the door.
He saw a figure standing next to his I.V. line. He lifted his head and tried to see more of the person, but he only saw a white shirt or maybe it was a coat.
"Who's there?" he called out.
"Your death," the voice replied. "That's who's there."
It was a woman's voice and he heard total hate in her voice. He knew the voice as Kevin's mother. He wondered what she had in mind for him.
"You're Kevin's mom," he said. "Shouldn't you be in your hospital room with your husband?"
"We were allowed to leave," she replied. "The boys are back home as well and their safe, "Kevin" is safe most of all."
"Good for fucking him," Richie said sneering at her.
"I said that "Your Death" is who I am," she said. "I wasn't speaking abstractly. This last moment is just that, your last moment to live. I know that what I'm doing is just as amoral as you for all practical purposes killing those kids. That's what rape is along with other forms of abuse, is just murder of a child's spiritual part of who they are, or murder of who they could become. Now I'm crossing that line as well."
She pulled out a syringe and stepped up to his bed then removed the cap.
"You said that you're making a choice that's as amoral as what I did," he said looking up at her. "You're going to kill me."
He said this as more of a statement than a question.
"That's right," she replied. "Like I said, I know that this makes me as amoral and evil as you."
"Then why are you doing this?" he asked with a resigned smile on his face.
"Because at least my sun won't ever have to live with the threat of you getting out of prison one of these days," she said.
She stood there for a moment and thought about what would happen once she injected the contents of the syringe in to his I.V. tubing.
"Well come on Bitch," he said. "Do it. Show me that for all your concern for your fagot of a son, that in the end you're just as much a sick and amoral cunt as I am. Before you do it though, aren't you at least going to tell me what's in the syringe?"
"It's called succinylcholine," she replied. "It's a muscle relaxant which paralyses the body, but most of all, it stops the functioning of the diaphragm and the muscles which control the ribs so they can't expand for you to take in air. You'll have the air trapped and you won't be able to breath in, but you also won't be able to breath out. The hunger for air will become terrifying and unless a breathing tube is put down your throat and oxygen administered, then you'll suffocate to death."
"I hope you like living with my death on your conscience Bitch," he said.
"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you," she said.
She held up the syringe and tapped it so that no air bubbles remained and placed it up to the I.V. port and inserted the needle.
"That's it Bitch," Richie said smiling. "I hate people who say they're moral and righteous, then they say they'd love to give someone who kills or hurts someone close to that person a death sentence. So come on, cunt. Show me that you're just one more hypocrite. Show me that you're just as much of a twisted piece of shit as I am."
She thought of what would happen to him. She thought about his body slowly losing its ability to function, then she thought about his increasing need for air that wouldn't come. She then thought about what she was about to do. She thought about how she'd have to work to get her story straight and say that she didn't know what happened to him should there be anyone who witnessed her coming out of his room. She thought about how she'd be wondering for the days it would take for the autopsy to see if they'd find the drug in his system provided they did the right testing for it. She also thought about what might happen even if they didn't. She thought about the possibility that even if they put him in the ground and didn't find the drug, that it didn't mean that someone down the road wouldn't decide to take a second look at him and find it. She then thought of the years spent looking over her shoulder fearing if or when she'd be found out. What would that do to her husband, children and their friends and significant others. Most of all though, what would that do to her soul. Just how much of her own humanity was she prepared to lose over her need to kill the boy who attempted to destroy her son and who destroyed the lives of other kids.
"No," she said, then backed away from the bed. "I won't be like you.
"Like me," he said. "I didn't kill anyone aside from my parents and Marc."
"You didn't kill those kids' physical bodies nor did you kill my son, but you destroyed who they were and you easily might have destroyed who they might become. Kevin is rather different in that we were there for him before things went too far with him. We got help for him before he got to out of control. That doesn't mean that it'll turn out like that for your other victims though. So in the area where one's spiritual existence is concerned, yes; you are a murderer. I won't join you in that. If I do want to punish you personally, then my punishment to you is to let you live with what you've done, you sick hate-filled Bastard."
She said this last part with her face just inches away from his, then she stood up and walked out of the room. She went down the hall to her office and closed, then locked the door. She took the syringe which she capped just before leaving Richie's room and placed it back in her medical bag, and sat there for a moment. She thought long and deeply about how with one push of the plunger, she could have easily destroyed her own life, and her kids, their friends, significant others and her husband's life. In the end, she couldn't allow herself to sink to that depraved level.
At a little after 6:00 that morning, Richie began feeling cold all over and he felt sharp pains in his stomach. He began feeling the need to throw up and he moved on to his side and he felt himself lose control of his bowels as he also began vomiting over the side of the bed. Fortunately for him, a nurse was coming to check on him and once the doctors tested him, they found that he had acute appendicitis.
Once in surgery, they found that the appendix burst and they began attempting to clean him out. After they got the infection out of him, they wheeled him to the recovery room, then after he was awake enough, he went back to his hospital room.
All through that day, he went in and out of consciousness. The dreams during sleep were horrifying. He dreamed of the kids he had raped and he also dreamed of Kevin. All of them, Kevin included, were running after him as he ran down a long tunnel with dark-red lights on either side of the ceiling. All around him were the screams of people and behind him, was the laughter of the kids who were chasing him. He got to the end of the tunnel and saw more kids were running towards him and they all finally closed in on him and began to rip him to pieces. He screamed long and loud.
In his actual room, doctors were running in after one of the nurses saw his heart monitor flat-line. They had to shock his heart several times and when they finally got it back in rhythm once again, he began having seizures.
In the last convulsion, his body seized up tighter than the doctors had ever seen. Blood sprayed from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth and he fell back on the bed, still and unmoving.
"What the fuck was that!" one of the doctors said as he tried to process what just happened. He stepped up to the bed and with his gloved hands, felt around Richie's head and neck and he felt unnatural shapes, which suggested that his neck had broken from the convulsions.
After the autopsy was performed a few days later, it was found that Richie had an aneurism in his brain which had been weakening steadily and could have burst at any moment. Him being beaten by Kevin, then the assault on his body from the infection was most likely the last blow which caused everything to cascade. They also found more infection that was generated from organs that had begun to go gangrenous from bacteria that were hiding in his system and the final discovery, was that he was living with full-blown AIDS. When he was tested for it and HIV when going in to prison, he was negative, but that clearly had changed at some point while in prison. In the end though, it was all over for Richie and he was put in an unmarked grave.
0000
Kevin
I put down the newspaper and sat there for a long moment. I then picked up the paper and read Richie's obituary again, then a third time. I put it down again, then went out of the kitchen and back to my room. I was alone in the house aside from Caleb who was doing homework. Alicia was out with friends and Justin was getting his haircut with my dad. Mom was at the hospital seeing patients and Cody was most likely doing homework at his own house, and the same for Nathan.
I sat on my bed and thought over what they found when doing Richie's autopsy. I also thought about him being dead. I didn't feel the relief I thought and sometimes hoped I'd feel. I didn't feel joy or a desire to celebrate. I felt deep sadness. I also felt anger, sadness for what had been done to him years ago and for other kids who suffered because of him when he got older. I felt anger at people in his life who knew what was happening to him and did nothing to stop it. Even if his parents had helped him, there was the social services that hardly do anything, not to mention a broken foster care system which can be worse than the abusive people with whom a child is living with at the time. In that moment, the words of Dostoyevsky came back to me, that we were all responsible for one another and that unless we understand that we all have a dark side which can manifest itself in people ignoring the less fortunate as much as it can manifest in acts of murder and abuse, then we have no right to judge another man.
We rage against people like Richie, we talk about giving people like him The Death Penalty or giving convicted child molesters injections of chemicals which in effect, castrate them. We tell ourselves that this will help in the prevention of rape and child molestation, and yet we ignore children who are going through this as much as we turn a blind eye and a deaf ear, as well as a cold heart to these crimes, and after it's all over, wonder why some of these kids grow up to do to others what was done to them, or if not that then they kill their abusers later on and we express shock and ask how they could do this. We pretend that giving chemical castration, or other similar forms of punishment to rapists and child molesters, that evil in the form of sexual crimes will be eradicated from our humanity and we fail to see that in doing these things, we become the people we despise. Given all this, the Richies of the world aren't the problem. We ask them how they could do something like this. We ask them in horrified tones if they even once tried not to act on their impulses. We beg them to act normal, like who they had been before they began cutting themselves, doing drugs or drinking after the trauma of the rape they've suffered, as if these words will reason them out of this damage. We beg them to be normal again and to come back to who they once were, and to stop being who they are now. They are acting as who they are now, and they aren't the problem; we as society are.
I thought of Richie screaming at me about if I had ever thought once of what he had been put through and in the days after that, I had and I discovered that I understand him and I get him. I knew, especially from what he had done to me, what it was like to not feel like your normal self, to feel more despair and anger than you could ever know what to do with and it accumulating until you destroy yourself with drugs, drink or cutting. I also know what it's like to want to hurt others, maybe not in the same physical ways in which you were hurt, but to make them feel what you felt, the powerlessness and fear. I thought back to slapping Caleb, to screaming at my parents and to grabbing Alicia. I thought back to lying on the floor of my dad's office wanting to take back what I had done and feeling my life slipping away.
"So have I thought about what you went through Richie?" I asked in the silence. "Yeah, I have thought about it. Yes, I do understand. I'm sorry no one was ever there for you when you were a kid and helpless and that no one ever tried to step in when you got older before you started harming others. Yeah, I definitely understand."
I then began remembering for a second time, the time I grabbed Alicia when in one of my fits of rage and then when I slapped Caleb, then pushed him. It felt like just Yesterday and when I looked up across the room, I saw Alicia standing in the doorway of my room.
"Kevin?" she asked and walked in to the room and sat down beside me.
"How long had you been standing there?" I asked.
"I think what you're really asking, is how much of that did I hear," she replied.
"I thought you were out with friends," I said.
"I just got back about ten minutes ago and I was in Caleb's room for a moment, then I came looking for you," she explained. "That's when I found you and heard what you said."
"You probably are surprised and are wondering why I don't wish that he was alive and being tortured for what he had done," I responded.
"Part of me wishes that more could have happened to him," she said. "Maybe a part of me also is shocked that you feel the way you feel, but I'm glad you feel the way you feel about thinking of him in the ways you are. If we all never helped you and even if you didn't do the exact same things to kids that Richie had done to you, where would you probably be then? I wish more people think the way you do, maybe Richie and others like him might not be living as they are and as he was."
"Yeah," I said. "I was just remembering how I treated you and Caleb as well. I also remember how I treated Mom and Dad."
"I really am sorry," I said as I began crying. "I shouldn't have treated you guys the way I did."
I felt her put her arms around me, then I felt another set of arms wrap around both of us. I looked up for a moment and saw Caleb sitting next to us and holding both of us.
"I forgive you Kevin," Alicia said. "I forgave you a long time ago."
I moved so that I could hug Caleb and we held one another for a long time and I heard Alicia get up and go back to her own room leaving us alone.
"I sometimes still remember slapping you and pushing you down like I did," I said as Caleb and I held one another. "I've always wondered from time to time if you think about it and if a small part of you still is angry with me for that and maybe even if a small part of you hates me for it. I shouldn't have treated you that way and also the horrible things I said to you towards your blindness. I don't know if I will ever truly forgive myself for any of that. I sometimes wonder if you doubt yourself because of what I said and did to you, if sometimes you wonder whether or not you question how much you're worth as a person because of my actions back then."
"I've forgiven you a long time ago as well Kevin," he said. "I wished it hadn't happened and I don't like that it did, but I understand why it happened. Your good qualities are better than those dark qualities and I'm truly grateful that you're my brother."
"Thanks Caleb," I said as my tears continued, then slowed and eventually stopped.
We shared another hug, then I laid down after he left to go back to his room. I was asleep in minutes.
Author's Notes
I'm sure that some will disagree with this view point about people like Richie. Some people I've talked to over the years actually do believe that the death penalty for child molesters is appropriate as well as chemical castration. I share their anger and outrage. I've known people with whom I went to high school who were sexually abused early-on in their lives and with one of them, I watched her slow break-down and it wasn't fun nor was it easy to watch and after three long years, did she tell a few close friends, I being one of them, what had been happening to her. So in those ways, rape and child molestation aren't abstractions to me and so I understand the rage people feel towards people who do things like that. That being said though, we are going to have to remember as a society, that to explain is not to excuse or condone a behavior.
One other thing that still bothers me about the girl I mentioned a moment ago who after three years told us what was going on, was how the field of Psychiatry aided in her abuser getting away with what he did to her. She began showing symptoms in 2000 and was put on an antidepressant, then as 2001 and 2002 went by, she was put on other antidepressants and antianxiety meds. Some were stopped and others started, then doses of some of them were decreased and then increased. After it was all said and done though, she had also been hospitalized between 2001 and 2002, and all through the whole nightmare, she was told that she had things from depression, to Anxiety Disorder, then Schizoaffective Disorder. The danger of these pseudo diagnoses, is that because the quacks who call themselves "Mental Health Professionals" had a responsibility to make sure that her symptoms weren't due to her being abused in some way and of course she wasn't going to come right out and tell them what was going on, but as true professionals, they knew or should have known that and went the extra mile in investigating, but they didn't. They just doped her up on practically every brain drug known to medical science and by the time she did tell us and others what was going on, the damage had already been done and when I talked to her back one time on the phone in 2008 after several years of not speaking because of not having a current phone number for her, she wasn't the same.
Let me be very clear, as the late Christopher Hitchens and the still living Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins feel about religion, is how I feel about Psychiatry. Psychiatry is poison. It promotes fake diseases rather than attempting to get down to the core issues driving a person's problems. They give people these fake diagnoses such as Bipolar Disorder, Depression and Anxiety Disorder rather than taking the time to sit down and really talk with these people and should any of them secretly be getting abused in any way by someone, then these labels further the secrecy by convincing the person that their symptoms of fear, anger and sadness are due to a disease process rather than the effects of being harmed by people in their daily lives. These fake diagnoses also have the potential to give them ready-made excuses for if or when they act out with anger or other chaotic displays of emotion either at home or in public with friends or around people they don't know.
There is no such thing as a chemical imbalance in the human brain. People have tested this hypothesis and it never has stood up to their testing. This pseudo-Science of chemical imbalance is just that, pseudo-science used to dismiss the rage, pain and isolation of people who are marginalized by society. It's used to prop up the egos of the professionals promulgating it as well as to inflate the profits of the drug companies as well as put peoples' names in fancy medical journals. When you read things about this with phrases such as: "It is believed that a chemical imbalance is to blame.", or "the mechanism though still unknown is what we suspect is causing the behavior.", then that's when you should be most suspicious, because in this case, they've been testing this idea for decades and it's failed in all tests, at least the ones that weren't performed by doctors who are filthy Whores of the drug companies. Psychiatry has done more to harm the abused, marginalized and the GLBT Community than any religious bigot ever has and I have no problem with Psychiatry going the way of ideas such as the belief in the Greek Gods, Thor and black cats being witches in disguise!
In conclusion, I don't doubt that people have deep and profound moments of sadness, fear, anxiety and emotional pain. Some of it can be serious enough so that intervention might be necessary, but to reduce it to a disease that has no true cause, much less has not been empirically backed up with hard evidence is not the answer at all. Unless we reach out to these people and reintegrate them back in to society with loving and meaningful communities to whom they can turn, and unless we give them actual concrete skills by which they can live, cope and manage their lives, then we're going to have only ourselves to blame when these people slip in to a final dark and tragic situation from which there may be no escape.
So on that note, everyone have a good evening and I'll see you all in Chapter 32.