Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
Chapter 34 was the hardest to write. I knew someone that went through something like this. He was really messed up.
With Chapter 35 the healing begins.
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Kim
Ring in Mine: Chapter 35
I vaguely remember the kid being picked up by his father.
"You're a day early. This cure had better stick. I won't have a queer son. How much will he remember"
"In a day or two he will remember very little. What he does remember will not make a lot of sense. Touching or even thinking about another boy will make him sick. What we do sticks.
The phrase `He will remember very little' bothered me. What could I remember of the last few days? Just as the man had been promised I had jumbled images but not a lot of coherent thoughts. I remember pain. I remember something about sex and I began to shake. The thought of sex made my stomach hurt. What had these people done to us?
Finally the van stopped again. The man checked our blindfolds.
"You can drink this or we inject it. Drinking it is safer." It burned going down. I remembered the smell and taste from the one time dad made me taste his cheap scotch. Our captor stayed in the back when the van started again. He was cooking something. A scorched smell filled the camper.
"This is the last one." He said as he stuck a needle in my arm. Things were getting really strange. I was dizzy and my thinking became muddled. I don't remember when we got out of the van. I do remember waking up in a jail holding cell with five other men and Jerry.
I had nothing in my pockets. Jerry was curled on the floor. He had obviously been sick. I reached out to touch him and began to shake. I tried again and just the thought made me sick. What had happened to me. The last thing I could remember clearly was spending the night with Danielle. I remember sex and other guys. I just couldn't put the pieces together.
An officer asked for my name and address, all of the personal information things. I asked a couple of questions but it was obvious I was going to be the one answering the questions.
"I don't know why I'm here. May I call my lawyer?" I asked.
"You will get your chance." the officer answered and I was dropped back in the cell.
Jerry was next. It was almost a relief to see him leave. Just looking at him made me nervous.
When the call finally came through Bruce wasn't sure whether to be relieved or angry.
"Salt Lake is laughing at us. We've been searching the valley for the boys and they show up passed out at Temple Square drunk, on drugs and in make up after a weekend of gay sex. They are so out of it if someone touches them they have a panic attack."
Then the phone rang again.
"Settle down. Talk slower." The officer listened carefully making notes and asking the occasional question.
"Do you remember the guy that disappeared outside of his work. He showed up late yesterday. Drunk, on something, and without any memories of the last few days. His boyfriend found him passed out on their front yard. When he came to, he wouldn't let anyone touch him. He couldn't even sleep in the same bed. He tried committing suicide last night. He's now in the hospital."
"I am seeing a disturbing pattern." Bruce noted. "If we check on the missing thirteen year old, I bet he is back home showing many of the same symptoms."
"Sounds like aversion therapy gone wrong. I think we will stop by on the way to Salt Lake." Agent Moore announced. "We are taking a DFS worker and a search warrant with us."
"Sounds like they are covering their tracks. Hopefully Salt Lake hasn't inadvertently destroyed what little evidence may be on the boys."
Instructions were sent out to various police departments.
An officer called Jerry and I out of the cell. We were led into separate rooms. I was told to strip. My clothes went into plastic bags. I didn't want to be naked in front of this big man in uniform. I had a vision of him in a black hood and began to shake. I wouldn't take my underwear off. He insisted and tried to remove them for me. I don't know what happened. I had a vision of this man sticking a needle in my arm. I freaked out and pushed the officer away. Then I huddled in the corner. The officer was ordering me to stand up when Brett walked in.
"What is going on?"
"Who the hell are you, barging in like this? I need the fag's clothes for evidence."
"Move away from my client. Has he been given his rights?
"We aren't arresting him. I just need his clothes."
"Since you are not arresting, him we are done here." Brett handed me a jail jumpsuit. "Bobby they need all of your clothes to look for evidence of what was done to you. Can you help us?"
"Not if he is watching? I can't be naked." Brett gave me a pair of boxers.
"Turn around. Give him some privacy." Brett demanded.
I changed into the boxers.
Brett looked at the mirror. "Nothing more will be done with my clients for now. This officer will not be involved with either of them or we leave now."
With the victims of this injustice with muddled memories, the easiest source of information was going to be the parents that delivered their son into the hands of the reprogrammers. With a matronly caseworker, Agent Moore knocked on the door.
The woman that answered was nervous and uncomfortable.
"If you're Jehovah Witnesses you need to leave before my husband gets home."
The agent identified himself.
"We just need to talk to your son, John and make sure he is alright. We had a report that he was missing."
"He's back home now. My husband said he would be better when he came back. All John does is sit in the corner and cry. He won't even let me touch him. My husband beat him and went out."
"Where has your son been?"
"I'm not supposed to say. I didn't care. I think I always knew, but my husband said John was better off dead than gay." She started to sob. "He may have been gay but he was always a good boy and happy. I'm worried. He is bleeding back there." She looked over her shoulder.
"Ma'am I think we need to have your son looked at by a doctor." The caseworker suggested. "Where is he?"
She led the way into a back bedroom. It looked empty but there was a sniffling sound coming from the closet.
"John, there are some people to see you."
"Tell them to go away." John whimpered.
The caseworker looked around the room, getting a feel for the boy in the closet. John was huddled in the corner. Red welts about an inch wide crisscrossed his body.
"John, my name is Melanie. I have a grandson about your age. He likes to draw things. Do you like to draw?"
"Dad says I can't draw anymore. I drew a nightmare from last night and he threw it in the trash and beat me."
The agent took the crumpled paper out of the trash and spread it out. There on the paper was a naked boy tied to a table. Three men in hoods stood around the boy. One was obviously sodomizing the youth.
"Did someone do this to you?" Melanie asked. Showing John the drawing.
"I don't remember, but I dreamed them doing it to me and others." John was confused trying to separate memory from dream. "They must have. I have blood on my underwear.
"John, we need to have a doctor look at you." Melanie suggested. She had dealt with the aftermath of reprogramming therapy before and had told the agent to be a silent partner.
"I can't. Dad said faggots don't get doctors for being fucked. He will beat me again." John was in full panic mode. Just then the boy's father came in the room.
"Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!" He shouted, his face turning red in rage. He slapped his wife hard enough to knock her down.
He grabbed a belt laying on the bed. "Boy get out here. All you bring is problems!" He went to hit the boy when the agent stepped between them. The blow landed across his body.
"You are under arrest for hitting an FBI agent, child endangerment, obstructing justice and tampering with evidence. We will figure out a few other things later."
He handcuffed the man and frog marched him out of the house and into a waiting unmarked car. It wasn't long after that John, his mother and Melanie followed them out.
"I am taking him to the hospital. I'll take care of John now and keep you informed." Melanie announced.
The paperwork on the asshole in the car could wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to and the agent left for Salt Lake.
He walked into a station in turmoil. Brent the boy's lawyer was in handcuffs with two officers manhandling the terrified boys into complying with their wishes.
"These are my kidnap victims. Why are they being treated this way?" Agent Moore asked after identifying himself.
"We were told to collect any evidence on them and they are obstructing our investigation by not cooperating." The belligerent cop announced.
"Considering they were kidnapped, physically and mentally tortured and are now being treated in the same way by those sworn to protect them, is it surprising they are scared to death? You do know this is a lawsuit waiting to happen." Agent Moore explained.
"I've seen this before. They are queers that someone did a favor and cured them. They aren't victims. They are patients." The cop responded. The sad thing is he felt he was right.
"In a way they are patients. They are going to transported to the hospital and checked over by a qualified doctor. Uncuff their lawyer and we will be on our way. All the evidence collected is going to the FBI labs. Box it up."
I was grateful to be leaving even in a jumpsuit. Jerry sat in front with Agent Moore. I sat in back alone. Neither of us wanted to sit by the other. I was beginning to understand that something bad had been done to us the last few days. The jail had been awful, but when the burly Officer grabbed my hands and pushed me toward the conference table I remembered another table. The memories were even worse.
I knew I didn't want to go to the hospital. I no longer had insurance and I couldn't afford any.
"Can I just go home. I can't go to the hospital again." I pled.
"We have to have you checked out. We are trying to find out what happened to you this weekend." Agent Moore explained.
I was getting good at disappearing. All I had to do was wait for my chance. I was done with being told what to do. I wanted to go home.
At the hospital Agent Moore walked us into the emergency room entrance. Trying to find an escape I pled the need for a bathroom break. He stood just outside the door. His shadow never moved in the frosted glass. A custodial worker was cleaning the mirrors. There were no windows but the maintenance closet was open a jar. There was no handle on the outside only a deadbolt lock. The door was out of the worker's sight line. On the inside was a sturdy pull handle. I pulled the door behind me and wedged a heavy mop through the handle. With nothing for them to pull on, I could out wait them.
"Bobby, open this door." Agent Moore's anger could be heard even through the door. I remembered a woman's voice shouting at me.
"I said I will not go into the hospital." I was standing my ground. They might be able to afford what a hospital cost but I was making payments on what Doc Johnson hadn't convinced them to wave from my last trip to the clinic. I wasn't going to drop out of school to pay doctor's bills and I had too much pride to ask for help.
"Bobby, you need to come out. He's really upset." Jerry asked.
"Go away. You don't understand. Whenever push comes to shove you side with the grown ups, first your dad and now Agent Moore but never me." I remembered him touching my nipple and the shock ran through me again.
The lock turned but with only the key for a handle they would have difficulty pulling the door open. Just in case a broom handle joined the mop. The room was largish. With a utility sink for water I could last until I could find someone on my side.
Brent was next. He tried reasoning with me.
"Are you by yourself?" I asked. "You are my lawyer not the FBI's. You said that what I tell you is confidential. Is that still true." He reluctantly agreed.
"Then make everybody else go away." I could hear the cop arguing with Brent. I was waiting to see how true to life the TV shows were. When he informed me that he was alone. I was ready to talk.
"Brent, since they aren't arresting me, can they make me see the doctor?" There was a pause for a moment before he answered.
"No Bobby, without a warrant they can't. You should, so they know what was done to you and maybe help find the people who did this, but no they can't make you." I could hear the FBI guy arguing with Brent.
"Sorry Brent I guess I can't trust you either." I pulled out a twelve pack of toilet paper for a pillow and settled in for a nap. I was so tired. I knew Bruce and then Mom would not be far behind. I already knew my score with them. It wasn't just the money. The thought of letting anyone touch me where I knew they were going to look wasn't ever going to happen again unless I chose to let it happen. I felt like the whole football team had been in me.
Bruce didn't disappoint me. When push came to shove he was still the faggot hating cop that he professed to be in the park. Mom was irate and ordered me out of the closet. She wasn't even willing to talk to me. Just like with dad. Bruce told her what to say and she went along.
"Mom I just want to go home."
"Then come out of there now. You are going to do what Bruce tells you, then and only then I will take you home." Mom was on a roll. "This is for your own good."
"I didn't say I wanted to go with you. I said I wanted to go home." I hope that gave her some food for thought. As much as I loved Grams and Papa, it wasn't home. I am not sure I would ever be comfortable there again.
From Mom's outburst and Bruce's reaction I knew if I had been on the other side of the door Bruce would be smacking me around. I pictured Bruce in a hood smacking me around.
The room on the other side like all bathrooms echoed. Whoever was on the other side of the door was trying to be silent but I could hear their breathing. I took a moment. I got a drink and then relieved myself in the utility sink. I was tired and dizzy and didn't feel good. Using my makeshift pillow I closed my eyes.
There was a knocking at the door.
"Bobby, can we talk?" A woman's voice I didn't recognize interrupted my nap.
"You can talk, and I have to listen there is no place for me to go. I will decide whether or not I will make it a conversation. So far no one on that side of the door gives a damn about me, it's all about catching the bad guys." I stopped and waited for a rebuttal, but it was met with silence.
"I don't give a damn about catching the bad guys. It won't undo what happened. I've been beaten by family, kidnapped, drugged and raped by strangers." I shuddered as images flashed through my mind.
"No one realizes just how strongly I feel about this. If that door starts to open before I am ready I could have a whole bottle of drain cleaner inside me and be dead before they could finish breaking through. Then they can poke me all they want and not care about my feelings."
"Are you seriously considering killing yourself?"
"You're a shrink aren't you?" I waited for an answer.
"Yes, I am."
"I don't need you. I have my own shrink that I can trust to look out for me. For all I know you have the whole lot of them out there with you."
"It's just you and me."
"My once upon a time lawyer already tried that. He had too many divided loyalties and chose them over me."
"What is it you want?"
"I want to go home without some doctor poking around my ass saying someone raped this kid. I already know that. I am not new to this rodeo. By the way I didn't ask for you so don't send me a bill, I can't afford to pay it."
"Your mom is here. She says after the doctor looks at you she will take you home."
"That's Gram's house that isn't home."
I decided this conversation wasn't getting anywhere and closed my eyes. She talked for a while but I stopped answering.
"Just let me know you are still alive."
"I'm alive. Go away."
I dreamed of having my eyes glued open and electrical shocks. Then I felt an unfamiliar pair of arms and the shocks went away. `Only a little longer, little brother. Help is on the way.' I must have gotten really quiet. The peaceful feeling disappeared.
"Are you alright in there?" It was Brent. It must have been his turn to watch the door.
"Just reliving what I assume is the last few days." I wasn't comfortable discussing anything with Brent. "Have they given up making me see the doctor yet? It's not going to happen."
"Bruce took Jerry home. Your mom went with them."
"Good. Is Jerry remembering yet?" I asked. "Maybe it was the earlier bad run in with prescription drugs, but I am beginning to remember. Jerry is lucky if he never remembers. Don't ask I will probably never tell and no one can make me."
"It could help the police."
"You're back to focusing on what others want. I thought you would understand since you're gay. Just go away."
"We could break the door down."
"I'd be dead and free from these memories before they could get to me. The labels on the cleaners in here make for interesting reading. Would you call Brad and tell him I hope he will tell the baby about his uncle Bobby?"
I heard the outside door open and and unexpected voice called out. "You can tell the baby yourself."
"I'm not sure I am going to be here much longer. I am so tired of all this." I sighed.
"Out." I heard the voice demand.
"I'm his lawyer!" Bruce answered.
"I'm his shrink and you've been replaced." It was Geo. Someone who truly cared about me rather than the cops or my parents. I heard the door open and close.
"Bobby, are you still with us. I want no more talk of not being here. The doctor you talked to earlier gave me a call. Doc and Brett are here also."
"Can I just go home now?" I sobbed.
"They brought the cavalry with them who is reminding them of your rights and is outlining how things are going to be. We should have you out of here soon."
"Geo, I am remembering and what I can remember is awful. Only the thought of going home has kept me going. It would have been so much easier to just end it. I don't want to die but I can't forget. Why can't they just leave me alone?"
"Just hold out a little longer. I've seen Brett's lawyer work miracles. Do you want to talk about what happened?"
"Not now, maybe never, but definitely not now. Will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm frightened."
----------- I would appreciate hearing from you. ringinmine@yahoo.com