11

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

At 11 my life was ruined forever, by 3 people I will never know. I was 11.. and my safe place and childhood was stolen

~

 

 

 

 

11




CHRISTOPHER

 

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Forward

I wrote this essay not for you the reader but more for me... see I have been living a nightmare since the age of 11.  I am 43 now.  I was brought up in a good home and had an amazing family...But I also had a terrible secret.The secret now has to be revealed.This is not a nice pleasant feel good story.There is no happy ending... in fact, no definitive ending at all.  The details are the best I can remember as this took place 32 years ago.  I suspect it’s fair to say my memory could have altered some events subconsciously.  But as I have lived this nighmare every day of my life, I am confident I am pretty bang on.As I write this I am sitting in my room at a Psychiatric Unit after an attempted suicide... an action I have tried before and thought of since I was 13 years old.
At  11 I was brutally kidnapped, tortured and raped by 3 people I never saw... they will never be identified, and they could be anywhere... and this is what frightens me in the daylight and as the sun goes down.  The details are vivid and disgusting, because of this I have been ashamed... for too long...
 It was the summer of 1982.....
This literary piece is called 11..........not eleven...

  1- Happy perfect life
  1- Life ruined

In one afternoon August afternoon....

And I was 11...........

 

 

Chapter one - Lemon Yellow Sun

11...... I was 11 years old. Still a baby in many ways... but wanting to be grown up at the same time. I still collected Hot Wheels and Smurfs. I would spend many hours a week reading the Hardy Boys. My parents never questioned when I finished one book and wanted another.  I was a normal kid more or less.
Summer was spent romping through the many trails in the woods near our home. Always with my best friend Ian. Son of a bitch ruined my snowman! But I got even many years later.....
I was carefree, from a good home where we always had food on the table, never really heard our parents arguing. We had almost anything within reason we ever asked for.
We were lucky ... Life was great ... And then…

It was a couple of weeks or so before the start of grade 6. As most summer days I was playing around in the woods at the end of the street. Many adventures were held there. From being a pirate, adventurer, or just a plain 11 year old boy.

It was by far my favorite place in the world. Every tree had potential to be a fort. Every pathhad to be explored. There were frogs, tadpoles, and trout in the river, snakes, and many other creatures. The air always had a sweet smell of the trees and bushes and just nature.
In the summer we built forts and created hiding places all over ... To escape the sheriff or the bad pirates or whichever we chose that day. In the winter we cross country skied for hours or used shovels to clear one of the two ponds ... Just enough to play a little hockey. We didn't feel our frozen toes. If our gloves developed holes we played anyway. The place was magic in the fall with its brilliant colors and crisp air ... The spring the mud was a boys dream come true.

And then...

See all that changed; quickly, without sense and forever without retribution.
I obviously knew the world had bad people... I however was mainly sheltered from the evils that encompass the world in 1982. I had great parents, aunts and uncles and grandmothers who all truly loved me. Our neighbors were like a second family. Many police officers lived close by; most of whom were our friends.... and still are 32 years later. I had a great uncle Carl who replaced nicely the fact I had no grandfather. We did wood working in his basement and talked about nothing for hours. My hockey coach when I was 9 was a great friend. Barb and I stay in touch to this day. Every time I see her I feel like that 9 year old boy who could barely skate. Everything was great!

And then ...

Why didn't I tell anyone. No kid around was lucky enough to have the people in their life that I had. Would it have made a difference? Would it have prevented me in becoming the monster I am today? Would I be sitting in a mental hospital 32 years later? Where would I be...? Right now, at this moment. If I had known what the future held. .... A lot of pressure for an 11 year old ... I believe.


Chapter 2 - That Morning

I suspect the morning started out as any other. It was summer... I know I would have woken early.... I know this because I always did. Maybe not as early as Ian, who had probably already been ringing our back doorbell. More of a terrible squeal than a bell really. I know beyond my parents the first person I would have seen would have been Ian; that I know as certain as any 11 year old boy knows frogs start out as tadpoles.  How?  Because we were inseparable. In fact I'm convinced to this day after Ian's mother moved to Nova Scotia a few years earlier before “the event", she moved them both back because we drove her insane living so far apart. To this day we can go months without taking and years without seeing each other; and as Ian put it best; we just know the other is there. Somewhere close by. If not physically then otherwise.
I'll be honest. I have zero idea what I did that morning. But in general an 11 year olds day isn't so complicated.  A far cry from the busy days filled with meetings and angry customers; traffic and overcrowded subways, smog and indifference. You don't have to worry where the money is coming from for food or the next mortgage payment. Essentially, ideally, an 11 year old has no worries.... Or that's how it’s supposed to be.

I'm convinced that is how my day was going, that August day in 1982. I most likely spent the morning biking on my decked out blue BMX or taking runs down the hill on my red homemade go kart. Brakes optional!

I can't tell you if it were sunny, cloudy, raining, hell - it could have snowed for all I remember.... But I do know late that afternoon ... had it been sunny... it clouded over in a very intense and rapid way.  It's a cloud that stayed in the sky 365 days a year ... for 32 years... and counting.


Chapter 3 - Ashamed For So Long

This chapter starts off with lyrics to a Jamestown Story Song. Only because it describes how I have felt since I was 11 years old.  I conclude with the ramblings of a broken 11 year old man.

JAMESTOWN STORY
Ashamed Lyrics
"Do you know what it’s like,
Not to know what is wrong or what's right,
I've been throwing away,
The efforts I've made to leave this all behind,
Don't feel sorry for me,
I have no excuse, I brought this on myself

I, I felt ashamed, for so long,
You, you are the reason I go on

I don't know, how I got here,
I don't know, where I went wrong,
I'm the player that's aged,
And won't stay away cause,
I've been in the game for so long,
Another day, another way,
For me to finally make a change,
Another day, another slave,
But I'll keep trying,

I, I felt ashamed, for so long,

You, you are the reason I go on,
I, I felt ashamed, for so long,
You, you are the reason I go on,

I can't escape all the problems I've made for myself
I'm in hell, and accept all the blame, yeah
I can't escape all the problems I've made for myself
I'm in hell, here's the look but don't stare,
I can't escape all the problems I've made for myself
I'm in hell, and accept all the blame, yeah
I can't escape all the problems I've made for myself
I'm in hell, take a look but don't stare,

I, I felt ashamed, for so long,
You, you are the reason I go on,
I, I felt ashamed, for so long,
You, you are the reason I go on."

There shouldn't be much else more to say..... Yet there is... Yes I have felt ashamed for so long. Puberty was confusing.  Why the hell am I like this?  Why do I always walk with my head down? ... Well that's what ashamed losers do.  Maybe I should tell someone now?  It's been 2 years.  Why go through the embarrassment? ... It's too late ... Why do I go to church? There can't be a God.  A God wouldn't let this happen to a little kid.  Why me?... Why didn't I stay home that day? ... Why did one show compassion but not two?  How come I'm alive?  Did they really know who I was?  Would they really get me?

Why did I sleep with a little jackknife under my pillow forever? (a gift from my uncle Carl) You idiot that won't protect you. Nothing will. If they want you they will find you. Anywhere you go, they will be right there. Peddle your bike faster... They are gaining. .... What was that noise?... Just the floor creaking... maybe.  I'm lost... it's dark... I'm still in the woods ... There is no moon to brighten my path... They are gaining ... Where the fuck is the moon?... I can hear them but I can't see them. ... There is no light.  The light is gone.... I wake up... Or did I?  There is still no light ... Will there ever be?  Someone help me.

 

Chapter 4- Fire Burning

"It seems like everyday's the same and I’m left to discover... it seems like everything is grey and there’s no colour in the world...Try to stay sober but I’m dying here...I am aware now that everything’s gonna be fine… One day... Too late …I’m in hell...I feel the dream in me expire and there’s no one left to blame it on...I hear you labeled me a liar cause I can’t seem to get this through...One day too late just as well.....I am prepared now and I am fine... again"
Merci Seether, a very deep band from South Africa

Hell is always referenced as a physical location, one of fire and brimstone; an evil domain ran by the devil, Satan, Lucifer, or whatever else you would like to call him.  It is an evil place where sinners are cast out to spend eternity.  But for me Hell is a mindset, a dark cloud that hangs over constantly here on earth. ... and I live it everyday... and I have since I was 11 years old.

I was young, so young, too young to realize that slowly day by day I was losing my grip on reality, slipping into a deep cavernous darkness, going insane, a deep, deep depression - my own Hell.  I felt different all the time, different than the other boys my age...I felt like an outsider ALL of the time.  It’s possible others did not see me as an outsider, but that is just how I felt.
I was too young to verbalize it, however I knew Satan is not a being with a red tail and pitchfork who guards the souls of the damned. I knew and still believe Satan is the person on the bus sitting next to you, he is the person in line behind or in front of you at the grocery store. Lucifer is your child’s teacher, or football coach... he is your minister, priest, Rabbi. The Devil might the volunteer who drives the church bus; he might be named Jack, Allen, Sarah or Sue.
He is impossible to spot.... because he is everywhere and could be anyone.... But what I know is he is 3 people at least...

Evil is not derived from a biblical Anti-Christ; evil lives in the minds of the ordinary people... not everyone... I am not by any means implying that... what I’m saying is evil rests dormant... until something gives way... until a switch in the mind is triggered.... I realize that now... then I was too young... then I trusted people... at 11 you take everyone at face value... well I did at 10... At 11 I started to realize that is not how the world works.

At 11 I learned to be on guard....... This was a lesson I took with me everywhere as I reached adulthood. Every day of my life, every minute of every day was in some form dark and cheerless... as for me... my Satan was 3 people who I will never know.... 3 older boys; and yes they were boys, not men that I know for sure... I won’t explain now but yes they were boys.  Thanks to them I realized evil was all around us and it was never going away.

These boys could now be lawyers, doctors, garbage men, policemen... perhaps they are all dead... They could live down the street, or perhaps another continent.
I might not have seen them, but their voices - distinct and post pubescent, are with me every waking hour... and they often seep into my dreams... nightmares that haunt me... even after I awake... they had a smell of sweat of boys who had been out in the summer heat all day... it was a combination of sweat, dirt and tree sap... whatever they used to cover my eyes tightly tied smelled like a fresh-washed spring-like flowery detergent.  It might have been a t-shirt...Eventually, alone I got it off..but I didn't even then check to see what it was... that is what it felt like.  The fact they had this and other supplies makes it more scary.... this wasn’t random spur of the moment... this was planned...They had with them what today we would call...a rape kit. Was I the target or was I at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Today, 32 years later, do they still talk about what they did? Perhaps they made a pact to take it to their graves... will one of them eventually break that pact if in fact one were to exist.
Or did they just forget it and not allow even a passing thought.  Maybe to them I was just a piece of garbage that has been put out to a virtual curb in their minds.  But I wasn’t... I was an 11 year old boy who liked to do everything any other normal 11 year old boy did...... And Then...

Have any of the 3 put the end of a 35 mm to their mouth and pulled the trigger; wrought from guilt... I've had one to my head and for some unknown reason could not gather the courage to do it.  I will never know the answer to this question... and this means one thing to me...........I will most likely never know the answer to any of the millions of questions in my mind...my mind that races 24 hours a day… every day...racing with images I guarantee nobody wants to see... but I have no choice.  So every stranger I see is Satan... every new and every familiar face holds potential evil.... This is how it is now and how I suspect it will remain.

The number of times I have wondered if any of them feel remorse is equal to the number of times I have planned out how to end my existence and eliminate my pain...

The first time I planned out a suicide I was 13 years old... the previous two years I'm sure I had no idea what suicide was... the thought never crossed my mind.. I was just scared day and night...everywhere I went...then at 13 I knew how I would stop being scared....
I sat fully clothed in the bathtub, the water running... in my hand a very sharp knife from the kitchen drawer... the one closest to the dishwasher, a yellowish colour - late 70s early 80s model...I knew what I had to do... funny how a 13 year old mind works.. I sat there with a t-shirt and jeans on because the thought of my parents or sister finding me naked was very embarrassing.... you’re going to be dead stupid... what difference does it make...and as dark and murky as the cloud was I was unable to do it.  What I eventually was able to do was cut... often... I did not do it for attention... I didn’t do it in any place noticeable... I did it for myself... because the pain helped me realize I was still alive... and I deserved pain... after all I was now a dirty little whore fagot.
Every day I put on a front as a normal teen boy... I became an expert at acting, and lying about anything and everything. I was paranoid someone would find out my secret... I didn’t want anyone to know... Jesus Christ I couldn’t let anybody find out ..........The fagot should have just died.


Chapter 5 - Tired, So Tired

"Without a soul my spirit is sleeping somewhere, until you find it there and lead it back home. Wake me up inside... wake me up inside...Call my name and save me from the dark.  Bid my blood to run... wake me up before I come undone.  Save me from the nothing I've become” - Evanesance

I would lie awake at night until I was confident my parents were soundly sleeping. I would then turn on my nightstand light... teenagers don’t sleep with a light on after all......but I could not sleep in the dark alone... monsters lurked in the dark... the same monsters that were there when I was 5 years old returned at 11.  Jesus Christ it was horrifying in the dark...
My bedside light was a lamp based on a ceramic hockey player made by my mother at her ceramics class.  He was painted in blue the colour of my previous year team jersey... the one with Lewis and 5 on the back. I suppose the ceramic boy was supposed to be me, except he had a smile on his face a huge stupid fucking grin from ear to ear, like he was the most carefree boy in the world.  Most nights I laid awake afraid to fall asleep, afraid of what disgusting and terrifying dreams might follow.  Every night I wanted to smash that fucking smile right off his fucking stupid little face. But it was a gift from my mother, and she had spent a lot of time and skill painting him... so I never could do it.  It was supposed to be a neat decoration for a young teen boy’s room.  This was my life every night at bedtime... my TV and stereo would distract me but eventually my eyes would fall closed and I would die... over and over... every night...


Chapter 6 - Slipping Away

"There's another world inside of me that you may never see, there's secrets in this life that I can't hide, somewhere in this darkness there’s a light that I can't find, maybe it's too far away, or maybe I'm just blind" - Three Doors Down

" Breath in right away, nothing seems to fill this space, I need this every time, so take your lies get off my case, someday I will find a love that flows through me like this will fall away, this will fall away...You're getting closer to pushing me of life’s little ledge, cause I’m a loser, and sooner or later you know I'll be dead, you're getting closer, you're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall, cause I'm a loser, I’m a loser, Yeah.” - Three Doors Down

“Everything’s so blurry and everyone's so fake, and everybody's empty and everything is so fucked up" - Puddle of Mud

For as long as I can remember any little simple set back would become the end of the world in my fucked up stolen mind.  I became hyper focused on everything.  Ian put it best when he said I was the only 13 year old he knew who could easily have suffered from an ulcer.  I easily became enraged, anytime any little thing did not go my way.  Enraged to the point where I would sometimes not even remember becoming enraged, a black out kind of scenario.  I became impulsive about everything I did, consequences did not matter... in fact I didn’t give a fuck.  I tried all kinds of drugs and really didn’t give a shit what they might or might not do to me... maybe I one some level wished they would kill me.
I developed an OCD that drove me to the brink of insanity... for example:  ++9 or 9++ would drive me insane it would have to be completely symmetrical +9+.... I washed my hands a 100 times a day - worried I might catch some odd foreign virus yet to be discovered... and again, I somehow hid this from everyone who supposedly knew me best.
Then again I was insane... I truly believe clinically insane. I was drinking alcohol on a regular bases at 13 taken from my parents bar... top it up with water nobody would ever know...I wasn’t getting drunk... I don’t think, and I wasn’t drinking every day... but a little shot here and there often calmed my nerves.
When I think back I might have even been a little fucked up before the incident, perhaps even more than a little.  I don’t know as most memories before 11 are fuzzy and sometimes it feels like I didn’t exist before 11...ask me a week from now and they could be completely clear... that’s how a damaged mind works.
From 11 on I remember every second of every day.... I was hyper focused on my surroundings no matter where I was.  I had to be... of course they were nearby and would get me anytime.
 I didn’t even feel safe in my own bedroom.... however in a way the light given out from that little smiling ceramic bastard protected me from potential evil which lurked in the corners of my blue painted room... and when I was under my NHL bed cover with such teams as the Kansas City Royals and the Colorado Rockies (not the baseball team) I was untouchable… yes, a young teen with a safety blanket....
However;  his sarcastic smile often taunted me as if he were saying, "Look kid I have the life you should have had, but they stole it from you cause you are a worthless fagot, and I know you enjoyed it kid"............my life was stolen from me by those three fucking bastards.

I’m 43 now and the pain and heartbreak are with me every day, and now as I write this my heart belongs to Satan.  I know this because there is no forgiveness in my heart...every day I hope that all three of them have died a slow painful death, a death where no method tried eased the pain... I want them to have felt the pain I did as an 11 year old kid... throughout the ordeal and for 32 years after. I hope they died alone as I will... with nobody left to care for or about them.
Hell might be in my mind a mindset on earth, but I also believe there is another hell for the afterlife... a hell reserved for those special people who’s soles needs a little extra attention.
I hope their bodies sit in unmarked graves where nobody visits... I hope they are damp, muddy, scared and begging for mercy...........just like an 11 year old boy who laid naked bleeding face first on a dirty, pine cone and insect littered ground...... Fuck Them.......

 

Chapter 7 - Almost Home

Matthew 10:16
3:30 in the afternoon
an affluent suburb
numb
wick-ed
Genesis 3:16
peer


In an 11 year olds mind there was no question, it was the greatest place on earth. We often played fugitive along with hundreds of other games.

Acres and acres of mature woods, a stream, 2 ponds, marshland, bogs and creatures all around. There were even deserted cars on the hill above the ponds.  I was a magical place that played a part in our lives from right after the first bite of breakfast up to supper and the approaching dusk. It depended on how soon our mothers would find us.  If we missed supper we could always put up with the scolding eyes of our matters and the occasional spanking.
It was on no question the greatest place on earth...no question...
And then..........

The four of us were playing fugitive that day. Today I was the fugitive and my three buddies were the sheriff and his two bumbling deputies.
I had been hiding now for days... well in actuality it was most likely an hour.  But in pretend time it was certainly days.  The sheriff and his deputies were not doing a very good job of hunting me. In fact the entire time they were unaware I had been tracking them.  A fact I took great pride in. See, I believe I know these woods better than any other human being alive or dead.  Well at least better than any other kid under the age of 15.

The woods were at the bottom of our street, over a hill in a new affluent subdivision.
We were house number four in a development which 32 years later contains thousands of homes. The woods we played in are now a city developed nature park with well groomed trails. The ponds we cleared by hand every winter risking frostbite are now the city's responsibility. Of course the deserted cars are all now gone and the narrow hill we would slide down, risking life and limb are now cleared for a safe sliding experience.
Back in 1982 we would descend into the paradise by a steep rock filled slope and often received many cuts and bruises... all worth it of course.  Now there are several entrances into the official nature park... all very professional and safe of course.
At the bottom of out entrance there was a very large unique shaped tree and when you were under its bows you were hidden in a secret room adults could never observe. It was our world headquarters of course. I think all of us boys at one time or another had participated in the innocent game of show you mine if you show me yours. All thanks to a slightly advanced pretty blonde girl named Genie... her family suddenly moved away one day... never to be seen again.

The Sheriff and his two deputies had no idea where I was.  It was time to cement my victory and head to my really top secret hiding place.  It was an immense curiously shaped tree off the main path.  Along one of the many intricate boy-made paths.  On what I considered the back of the tree was a very vast and unusual above ground root system.  With bows of pine and alder bush this acted as a very well disguised and camouflaged bunker.  I really could hide there indefinitely...In fact many days I would bring a lunch and a Hardy Boy book and pretend I was a soldier awaiting the enemies arrival in my secret war bunker... because all soldiers eat peanut butter sandwiches and Wagon Wheels and read Hardy Boys.
Today however it was serious business - I was a fugitive from justice being hunted by a 4 foot tall sheriff and his pre-pubescent deputies.

From time to time I will lift the pine branch which tickled my face to see if the lawmen were close....it had been a while since I had seen or heard any action.  A caterpillar slowly slinked along the branch perhaps praying to soon be able to spread his wings as the transformation completed.
It was silent... so silent I could hear the butterflies little legs meander along....the only real sound was the stream as it bubbled along.  I jump as a crow lets out a loud screech...

"Brad, Jamie, Craig... common guys."No response..."Come one out arrest me - I give up"...The crow repeats his call as in protest of my yelling.  Again silence except from the stream.
Fine, I'm sure they have all gone home miffed that they were unable to find me... no, more pissed off than miffed.
I decided to take a little trip over to the area where the two ponds are and inspect the two or three old cars left to die a slow automotive death.  I cross over the bridge we had made two summers before by dragging over a slightly rotten log.  This will certainly be the last summer for the old girl.  Perhaps with some cooperation we can all sneak over enough supplies to build a more masterful engineering wonder.At least the current crossing prevented us from frequent soakers the gross muddy water soakers that often claimed a shoe... or even two.
I easily make it over the Golden Gate Bridge of our imagination and head toward point number one... the larger of the two.  After walking all around it I climb the hill midway up and discover the cars lying there abandoned - stripped of anything which would be of value to an adult. However as an 11 year old boy these cars represented a world of imagination. Nonstop imagination.
However after a while the magic of the cars did not hold enough magic to overpower the grumbling of my stomach... Although it was not quite supper time I knew I could sneak into the kitchen and grab a quick snack. Also I was wearing a new pair of shorts and a shirt and I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about not wearing them out to play in the woods.
I headed down the hill and once again around the pond and heading straight to our masterfully designed bridge... I could really hear my stomach rumbling now and boy was I hungry... I had my plan all set... sneak in the back door and change into my older clothes I had stashed underneath the washing sink in our laundry room... the one that had direct access from the back or side door.
Walk on up to the kitchen and quickie fix a pre-supper snack before anyone was the wiser.....
Won’t be long now I am almost home...................

And Then........

“Things are not what they used to be... missing one inside of me... Deathly lost this can’t be real... I cannot stand the Hell I feel"- Metallica

"So you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, Blue skies from pain...A green field from a cold steel rail... A smile from a veil."  - Pink Floyd

“And when I’m gone just carry on no harm, rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice, just knowing I’m looking down at you smiling, so baby don't feel no pain." - Eminem

Chapter 8 - Footsteps

As I crossed past the pond and onto the trail which lead back to our pre-teen engineering marvel I thought I heard a rustling of leaves and the slapping of branches on something, perhaps a human as they meandered down the trail.  It might have been my mind playing tricks but I also thought I heard the crisp snapping of twigs underfoot.  Of course it must be a scurrying squirrel or a field mouse; perhaps even a slithering garter snake.
Although I tried to convince myself it was one of the many creatures of the woods I still quickened my pace...do I now hear footsteps or is it once again my imagination? Nah, just imagining things once again... but I hear muffled voices in the distance... distant yet not so distant.
I quicken my pace a bit, I’m not sure why, there are often people in the woods here.
I can hear a low toned laughing...not the type of laughing you would expect after a funny joke has been told... the laughing had a bit of an evil overtone to it.  With this my pace turned into a jog... I don’t remember doing this on purpose but I had done it... and I sensed that probably was not a bad thing.  I circled away from the upcoming haphazardly built stream cross over and headed down one of the other alternative paths that would eventually lead me to the narrow part of the stream.  By doing this I would most definitely lose whoever was playing a little joke and trying to spook me... after all I was the king of the woods.........

“I wear this crown of thorns upon my liars chair, full of broken thoughts; I cannot repair, beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear. If I could start again a million miles away, I would keep myself... I would find a way. “- The Great Johnny Cash

Why am I still hearing footsteps and why do they seem a lot closer....and yes now I am saying footsteps - at least two people, maybe more.... More laughing and it is definitely getting closer...ok, fuck this, I start into a full sprint...I look back but I don’t understand why I can’t see anyone.  The footsteps and the laughing sure should close enough... all I have to do is make it to the narrow part of the stream and jump over... a quick sprint up the hill and I will be back on Frampton Lane and up to 29 Glendalea Crescent.... the thing is............I never make it....

"It's down to this I've got to make this life make sense can anyone tell what I've done , I miss the life miss the colours of the world, can anyone tell where I am.. Cause now again I've found myself so far down, away from the sun that shines into the darkest place I'm so far down away from the sun again.... I'm tired of living in the dark can anyone see me down here. The feelings gone. There's nothing left to lift me up, back into the world I know” - Three Doors Down


Why is my head so sore ... I am lying face down in the mud and I can taste the mud covered ground and leaves in my mouth...I taste like I have some of that boggy disgusting water in my mouth.  I feel like I have been hit by a pickup truck... there is more chatter and I feel at least one person holding me down.  Another is covering my face with some sort of cloth... it smells like it has been freshly removed from the dryer... it is covering all of my eyes and some of my nose and it is being tied extremely tight.  I am starting to panic and cannot seem to breathe until I focus and realize I can breathe through my mouth.  "Why are you doing this to me, what did I do?" a sharp pain as I am struck in the back of the head... "Shut up you little fagot...”
Jesus that hurts - my arms don’t bend that way... but with much hostility both of my hands are tied ... and tied tight....then before I can protest I am being tied around the knees... " Not there you idiot how can we get his pants down all the way later, tie at the ankles"... and suddenly before I can ponder very much about the pants down comment I can feel excruciating pain as my ankles are viciously tied together.  After the last knock to the head I am not feeling overly confident to ask any more questions... at least for now..
I have determined there are three of them... just from the number of voices and the movements I hear around.  "He’s secure now you guys go find something heavy we will need it after we are don’t having some fun with him".............I wasn’t quite sure what that meant but I was doubting fun meant a game of Monopoly over some popcorn and cola...there was no conversation while the other 2 were gone.  I certainly was not going to initiate one.
Approximately 10 minutes later they came back......." What exactly are we going to do with that...it’s a log... wood floats... logs float... we can't dispose of a body that will just float around tied to a log ”  This little statement was coming from the leader.  Whose every word sounded like and evil devil living here on earth.

And at this point if I had been even a tiny bit brave earlier, I sure wasn’t now. I could feel every muscle in my body go numb... I was getting dizzy and I felt like I was about to puke....and then I did.

I knew now what their plan was... to find a kid alone in the woods and murder him..........I think at that point I might have blacked out.............and it appeared everything might be black...  for a long,  long time.
he said it didn’t matter
described as...
harmless
because I say so
numb

"No one but me can save myself but it’s too late, now I can't think why I should even try. Emptiness is filling me to the point of agony, growing darkness turning grey....I was me but now he's gone."  - Jamestown Story


Chapter 9 - Beat Down

I'm beaten down again... I belong to them...beaten down again, I failed you.
I’m weaker now my friend, I belong to them.

I'm wiggling, twisting, kicking, screaming... trying anything to be released from my restraints. I have lost all control of my emotions and start to scream, yell, but at the same time crying like I have never cried or have never since.  It started as a frightened – no, terrified - whimper and ended with crying so strong I was having trouble breathing... I knew there was little question that I would be dead soon, what I didn’t comprehend was WHY....just that morning I had been riding my bike, and had stopped at the swings in the playground at the top of the subdivision.  I waited and swung a bit on the grey most likely lead painted industrial set... nobody showed up so I returned home and read a chapter or two of my most recent hardy boy book.  However, being a decent August day I grew bored and wanted to track down some friends outside.
See back in 1982 we didn’t get out iPods or cell phones and KIK, snap, or iMessage friends. We put on our sneakers and went hunting around the neighborhood for friends.  It made no sense to call anyone’s house as their parents had no idea where their kids were at any point of the day.  I'm mentioning this because we lived in a safe neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened... it was Mayberry without Andy Griffith.

There really was zero sympathy for any of my, what must have been heartbreaking, cries. Then I hear the distinct crisp snap of what was most certainly a switch blade opening. CLIK
Now it is being gently rubbed up and down my neck, "Behave and listen to us you little fagot or I won’t hesitate to slice you from forehead to asshole  ... GOT IT"..... then laughing... laughing like this was some fun adventure for them all... which in a sick depraved way it was.  They were all bastards and they weren’t necessarily from our neighborhood... they could have come from anywhere in the city...or beyond.
The laughing continued, more like evil cackles of monsters lacking a conscious.  I fought hard to remain conscious as the fear was quickly consuming me... I was shaking and sobbing still and I had a headache and felt like I was about to vomit once again.  They had ropes, knives, a blindfold, a truly certifiable leader, and worst of all, the part that really frightened me to the brink of true insanity........they had A PLAN.  This wasn't three punks just having some fun.... it was very obvious they were about to initiate their plan... and that scared the fuck out of me!  That language was not permitted in my household but I knew my parents would understand why I have used it now.
It was time for me to die... and I knew it.
"Hold my breath as I wish for death. Oh God please help me! "
Exit: Light
Enter: Night
Take my hand, were off to never, never land.
"Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the lord my soul to keep.  If I die before I wake, pray the lord my soul to take, Hush little baby don’t say a word... and never mind that noise you heard...It's just the beast under your bed, in your closet... In your head" - Metallica

The laughing suddenly stops... for a moment there is complete silence and I can hear the stream, birds chirping far off and cars from the far off highway... but just for a moment...then with harsh hostility I am grabbed by the back of the hair .. "Shut your fucking mouth"… I really didn’t think I said a word, so I assumed my crying was what he was referring to.  I was now crying; once again so hard I was having trouble breathing...my ability to breath was hindered even further when suddenly I felt a swift inhumane kick to the stomach... The leader seemed to be doing most of the disgusting actions to date but his two sidekicks put up little resistance to any of his orders. Perhaps they had a reason to fear him... maybe even as much as I did.  He was definitely in charge and guiding the moral compass of the other two.  A moral compass that was way off track...demonstrating no indication of magnetic north.
Of course receiving a vicious blow to the stomach really didn’t do much to stop my crying... I felt like yelling that to them but decided against it... probably a smart decision on my part.
The crying seemed to set them off once again because before I had a chance to recover even a slight bit I was dragged by the hair... this time more violent than even the kick to my stomach.  I was dragged a few feet and suddenly could hear the stream very close and feel some of the wet ground around its banks.  I think I had a grasp on what was about to happen but before I could complete that thought my entire head was being held under the water... it was shallow enough I could feel the top of my head touching the rocky bottom.  I struggled but I was being firmly held by three older and much stronger boys. T o this day I am still not a huge fan of the water and I certainly do not like submersing my head.
It was getting near impossible to breath and I could feel myself sucking in water.  It tasted foul... I knew it wasn't going to be long now... so this was where their plan ended... where would they hide my body?  And just as I had given up hope I was pulled back up.  I was gasping for oxygen to fill my lungs... it seemed like I was still under... I was panicking but I eventually was able to breathe semi-normal again.  My face cover was wet and heavy and starting to slip... it was re-tied... and this time very tight.  So tight actually, I thought my eyes might pop out of my head like two cherry tomatoes.  My hair and this nasty thing covering my eyes smelled like stale sewer run off.  It was dripping down my face and onto my lips....I could have barfed again... right there...but I didn’t.  The smell and tasted of the stream water was really the least of my problems... problems that were about to increase rapidly ...and in a very intense and horrifying way.....


Chapter 10 - Whipped

“I can’t escape this hell... So many times I've tried... But I'm still caged inside... Somebody get me through this nightmare.  I can't control myself.  So what if you can see the darkest side of me. No one will ever change the animal I have become.  Help me believe it’s not the real me. Somebody tame this animal.” - Three Days Grace


I was still gasping for air when I was ordered to lay flat on my stomach... not the best position to gain your breath back.  I didn't argue.
A sharp pain on my back... a close to being unbearable pain, but before I could put it together there was another and another...they were whipping me with alder bushes like I was some sort of animal.  The more I cried the more they laughed... the whippings were to the back of my knees... that pain was magnified 100 times...after what seemed like a dozen they were whipping my buttocks and that is where they focused much or their attention... ... I was almost screaming... then I felt a finger on the button of my shorts and knew the most embarrassing was about to come... “NO not yet", barked the leader... "We will have a few uses for his ass later."  I was 11 and I wasn’t sure the implications of that comment, but I knew they were not good.
 The whipping continued but on the back and legs mainly...I cried and cried whimpered and screamed out... why, I don’t understand why...I was 11, a little kid, a nice kid I thought.  I went to church on Sundays. I did my chores, (most of the time with a little encouragement), my school work was above average, I always said please and thank you, I shared what I had...I was brought up right........who the fuck were these callous bastards doing this to me.  What the fuck was happening and why?  I would never know who they were and they would never know the damaged they caused and how my life was ruined.

Finally after a few minutes the whippings stopped.  I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad... I guess that depended on what was to come next.

One of them mentioned moving to "the spot they had picked out".  There was a suggestion that they scout out the paths to make sure we were the only people around.  I was then additionally tied to a large tree by the waist... adding to the hands and feet I wasn’t going far.
Then the warning that if I yelled or made any noise or escape attempts that I would have my dick cut off and shoved in my mouth... I had up to this point no reason not to believe them.  So I stood there quieter than a mouse and as immobile as a sentry at Buckingham Palace.
It wasn’t long that I heard footsteps and brush moving and I knew they were back...but at this point only one of them... "I'm sorry kid, it’s going to be tough but I won’t let them kill you, I’m sorry."For some reason this made me cry a little more.... moments later the leader and the other evil components of the trio were back.
"Looks clear all over, and of you see any action?", "Nope safe to say we are the only four people out here....well soon three"... two of them thought that remark was hilarious...I had little reaction as really I was all cried out and just felt numb.....the same kind of numb that I have felt my entire life because of this "incident."
It turns out where we were headed was about 5 or 10 minutes away - through a bit of rough terrain.  The decision was made to untie my feet.  I would walk behind the leader and in front of the other two.  The apparent second in command had an open jackknife to my back so I was sure to follow instructions.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably 7 or 8 minutes, we were at a collection of large trees which formed a nice shelter.  You could even stand up under them and not bump your head on any branches.  It would appear like that characteristic was somewhat homemade.  Perhaps even with the jackknife that had been pointed at my back.  Now at the moment I did not know that was where we were, obviously, being blindfolded... however it becomes more clear later on how I know this.
The gang is off to the side and from the voices I would say 20 feet or so away from me as they have leaned me up against a large tree.  They have very obviously forgotten that my ankles are now free of any encumbrances.  This was most likely their first real mistake so far.  Now that being said I am still blindfolded and lacking balance as my hands are firmly tied behind my back..... but as it seems they are putting the final touches on their plan this might be my only chance.  I slowly move to my left and see if they react... nothing... I try rubbing my face on a tree to loosen the blindfold... it is on there way too tight... it’s not budging...I try rubbing my hands on the tree... again the knots are very professionally done… I wonder if one of them had been a boy scout... perhaps earned his kidnap and murder badge.
I move a little further and no reaction...so I decide it’s now or never... I make a swift break for it and after 5 feet trip on a root and land flat on my face with a mouth full of pine needles and dirt.... with that a garish cackle arises from at least two of my kidnappers...this time a laugh of true entertainment... "Nice try little guy".  Was that all that was said?  I was panicked because I knew what was going to happen...Fuck I hate knives... “Please I’m sorry I was just scared, please don’t cut me"... the leader responded quickly. " It’s ok we are not going to hurt you this time, in fact we are all about to have some fun."
............................I had an idea what that might have meant..........and I doubt it was really going to be very fun....


Chapter 11 - Shattered Forever

“Cause now again I’ve found myself so far down away from the sun that shines into the darkest place, I’m so far down away from the sun again.  I’m tired of living in the dark can anyone see me down here.  The feelings gone there’s nothing left to lift me up, back into the world I know."- 3 Door down


After tripping over the roots I had cut my knee and my leg a bit.  I laid there for a few minutes before I felt a hand gently pull me up and guide me over to stump to sit on.  He cleaned me up using some of the water from the stream.  This humane gesture did not go unpunished by the two monsters he was associating with.  I know he took at least one fist to the head.  To this day I have never figured out the dynamics in this group.

I sat there with my head between my legs for what seemed like hours as they discussed my fate feet away.  My legs were untied but I was tightly tethered around the waist and to a tree by a solid rope... once again... so I sat there and cried... not because the back of my knees stung like 1000 bees were at me, not because of my buttocks, or back…but because I was scared, terrified, and void of even a remaining drop of hope.

As I sat there I thought of all the good times I had in life, lobster boils at my uncle Bill's cottage, the day my cousin Jonathan and I discovered playboys in the garage of that same cottage, Saturday mornings watching cartoons with my dad drinking coffee... well his was coffee.. mine was 90 percent milk and hot water and 10 percent coffee... I would drink it out of my white and orange little mug with orange lions across the top.  Sleepovers with my first ever friend in Moncton as we hung out with my pretend friend Sylvia... Going to work with my dad in his full sized Irving Orange van with the giant tire on the side... he let me think I was actually helping him of course... I never once felt in the way.  Family trips to the states and PEI.  Although my sister and I never ever liked each other we could put that aside and do our separate things.  That dislike carried through our entire life... but that’s irrelevant to begin with.  I sit writing this in the University Hospital in Moncton and I suspect I will not receive a visit from her.  I can’t blame her for her decision. To clarify I said I didn’t like her, I never said I didn’t love her.
There have been many times over the years I wish they had just killed me that August day because although they physically let me live, really, I have been dead for 32 years.
I remembered how good I felt every time I stepped onto a sheet of ice in my hockey uniform. I remembered all of this, sitting there much as passengers on a plane let their lives flash by after a Mayday is announced.
And now my life is about to be changed by 3 cowardly bastards, for what gain?  I don’t understand... I just know that if there is a devil then there are at least 3 of them.

I have had enough... I am sick of these games... FUCK them... do something or FUCK off. I think this is how I know I have really snapped... because not only did I think those words... I yelled them out, in a very defiant voice.  That seemed to surprise them for a minute...and then I jolted them into action...

“You can’t be talking to us you little fagot!!"  This was the voice of the leader.  I said nothing as I already knew I was pretty much fucked at this point.

“Strip him naked except for his underwear, untie his hands for a minute to get his shirt off, then tie up his legs and hands again and bend him over that tree trunk".  The acted on their orders quickly and before I knew it I had one strip of clothing on separating my private parts from the rest of the world... now I had participated in the show and tell games with Genie before she moved away but this was way different.  Next I was tied to the fallen tree branch and bent over... “Cute little baby undies," squawked the second in command.They were powder blue briefs and thank god I had many pairs the same.  They didn’t look any different than underwear I had seen in the dressing rooms for hockey or gym class at school.

“I said bend him over more", the voice of the young Joseph Stalin barked... “He’s been whipped enough."  This was the voice of the one I considered more compassionate.
“Maybe you’re right," said their fearless leader of sorts.  I heard footsteps approaching and then a pause, and then then a sharp ungodly pain as he snapped my ass at full tilt with his sneaker.  I yelped and was able to hold in most of the crying this time.
It seemed forever that I was tied and bent over that log... everything was silent as if we were the only four people left on earth.... then very rapidly the back of my underwear was pulled down and an alder bush... a very thick one was placed in between my ass cheeks... and the leader spoke “Kid listen 100 percent to what we say next 100 percent you got it?"  I whimpered out a yes..." If you don’t this will go so far up your ass it will exit through your bellybutton.”
I said ok, ok I will listen don’t worry whatever you say..... I barely got these words out between a sob which just turned out to full out bawling …I couldn’t control it anymore... I knew what was about to take place was going to be way worse than anything that had happened so far... and that had happened so far was horrific and had driven me to the brink of total insanity.

They stood me up straight again but his next orders made the hair on my neck stand up and my legs felt like jelly... “Remove his underwear.”  Quickly his second mate complied and I was standing there naked in front of three people I didn’t know, or never will know for that matter.
Of course I was 11 so at least two of them felt compelled to make the baby dick jokes... because apparently they were never 11.  The leader took my dick and played with it for a minute than slapped my balls hard enough I almost passed out and threw up.  The pain was intense and I could feel it deep, deep in my stomach... I tried to coach myself out of it but failed...I was keeled over on my knees vomiting, there wasn’t much to come up as I hadn’t even had lunch yet.
At least two of them were laughing and genuinely found this hilarious...one laughed along just so not to reveal his mask.
Then the laugh turned to a more evil methodical laugh and the leader asked in a purposely worded wicked way, and I know this because he waited for my vomiting to finish and ensured he was starring me right in the eyes when he stated... “Hope you boys enjoy blow jobs because our friend here is about to become and expert... Who wants to go first?”
............Again my crying started and my begging went unheard.... and as I thought earlier...
The real nightmare is about to begin...........
FOR FUCK SAKES SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME...........I'M 11 JESUS CHRIST HELP...
I'm 43 now and I still feel that way... not always... some days everything is fine... other days the anxiety is so strong I can't bear to enter a grocery store or take a walk down the street... I have not had fingernails since I was 10 years old...I started pulling out my hair at 15; I've been cutting since 13... just to feel the pain... not for the attention like some emo fagot...I cut where nobody sees...I do it for me.........in some ways I will always be that scared naked 11 year old boy.....


Chapter 12 - Craziness or Insanity

"On the ground I lay motionless in pain. I can see my life flashing before my eyes.  Did I fall asleep is this just a dream.  Wake me up I'm living a nightmare."  - Three Days Grace

There are many levels of crazy...endless... and crazy and insanity are not synonymous.  At least the way I see it crazy is a "mild" temporary state of mind.  Craziness can of course lead to insanity if pushed beyond the capacity of an individual’s mind.
Insanity however is a deep dark chasm that is beyond impossible to crawl out of.  You could claw at the edge of said chasm until the flesh on your fingers was shredded and bleeding... insanity is a state that really has no cure.....I know the difference as I have lived crazy and on an August day in 1982, I most likely crossed the line... the line into the deep abyss of insanity...there is no help really as I feel I cannot even reach the ledge let alone try to claw my way out.
I'm convinced I went crazy when I thought I was going to be viciously killed and left at the bottom of a pond; perhaps to be found in a future winter, my face visible under the blade marks freshly left by a young child out for a skate or a pickup game or hockey.... just like I had done 1000 times in the past.. perhaps he would find my deceased,  iced over face, driving him into years of therapy.
I went crazy again, perhaps even a greater level of crazy when my head was tightly held under a shallow stream, gasping for air and accepting death as my lungs filled up with the foul water. Being whipped like a savage animal, dragged by the hair, and continuously called a worthless fagot over and over by people, who as far as I know, had no idea who I was.  In fact throughout this ordeal I had heard no names mentioned and they didn’t ask mine.
That quantity of crazy in a short time brought me to the edge of insanity... more like the LEDGE of insanity where if you were tumble over you would fall for an eternity...there were three people behind me waiting to give me a shove.... so I would fall into a dark weightless endless fall...
I might have only been 11 but I was well aware that what was about to happen to me would push me over the edge... I was about to fall into this deep chasm that for 32 years would control my life.  I think my subconscious was trying to numb all emotions, perhaps to help me survive what was about to happen... I'm not saying I was comfortably numb... but I was numb.
It was like I stepped out of my body and was watching all this happen to some other little boy...I was an observer and there was nothing I could do...NOTHING... FUCK NOTHING.... it was like a nightmare that I could not wake up from........a nightmare I still can't wake up from ... 32 years later. 
The problem was I wasn’t an observer - I was a participant, the star participant.  I was overpowered by three older, stronger, and well organized boys...3 savage, inhumane assailants.
The sense of being overpowered and controlled was a horrific, dark, frightening, and horrendous feeling.  It’s a dread and a life time of anxiety, and it burrows deep into your soul.
I have constant anxiety attacks in crowds, ones that lead to near panic.  I have to always sit on aisle seats at any public events.  I look for escape routes constantly in new places.  If I am sounded by people I go into a panic attack that can turn into a rage.  I have to be in control of virtually every situation which allows me to at least temporarily wear the mask of sanity.
A mask I have got used to wearing most of my life.  I can smile when I should, look happy, amazed, interested .........but underneath I know they are out there... looking for me....
Help me Please!

Chapter 13 - Devastation


"Time has run out for me, Everything’s distant and I don't know what to believe, It's so hard lost in the world of confusion and I need to leave for a while, Life is so meaningless there is nothing worth a smile so Goodbye, I'll miss you..
And I'm sorry, but this is my fate, everything is worthless. No one who wants me to stay...
So here's my Goodbye. No one will cry over me... I'm not worth any tears." - Jamestown Story

“A girl would have been better."  The leader quickly handled this statement, "Today he is our little girl, and he better be a good little girl or else."
I was 11 and old enough to know what these sick bastards were talking about.  I had been at friend’s houses when they snuck their father’s videos or magazines; I was going into grade six so I knew stuff man.  I kind of had an idea what they had planned for me next..... kinda.
Again giggling turning to laughter off to my right... then loud enough for me to hear... on purpose of course, “Hope the little fagot know how to give a good blow job", then the leader, “Well if he doesn’t - today he gets to learn"............ this was met by fits of laughter... They were enjoying the psychological torture as much as any physical torture they had brought on..... I think even more.... there were at least two minds of a psychopath and perhaps the third was too weak or too scared to know or do anything different.
I, However had my own plan in place the moment I heard the word blow job...The first up at the plate was gonna get a surprise.  I had good teeth and a solid bite and I planned to bite that fucking thing right off and spit it into the little stream for one of the fish to dine on.
After that I'm sure number two and three would not exactly line up.  Also, the other two would be so busy trying to help their friend I would make my escape.  I would have to hobble up the hill and to the first house naked, a little embarrassed but alive.  It would be the Nelsons... they are a nice couple on my paper route.  Mrs. Nelson would cover me with a blanket, and get me a drink of coke and start washing any of my wounds while Mr. Nelson would be on the phone, first the police then my parents...I would be a little in shock and having issues remembering my phone number, but he would grab the phone book and within seconds would be on the line with my mom or dad, either one who would be there in seconds and place me on their lap and just rub my head and rock me while we waited for the police... yup this is gonna work, I’m sure of it.

 Of course it would be beyond smutty putting a penis in my mouth, but either way these obvious closet homosexuals were goin


Submitted: December 22, 2014

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