I showered while 'Master' gathered up his equipment; and with Edmond, they left me alone. He said the Healey wasn’t big enough for all; so, he’d come back with the food. He didn’t; at least in the 3 hours I remained there. Just as I reached for the door he called saying he and Edmond had gone to the fried chicken place, owned by Lester Maddox; to get for a souvenir a signed ax handle. It was further than he thought and in addition got lost driving Edmond home. Let me first unpack my ‘consequences’.
In the mean time, I became unhappy, jealous, and rethought my situation as I rested in bed. I contemplated the events with doubtless permanent effects upon my future. I felt I needed to explain to Rhonda my situation. Pitch the facts at her feet at least. Admit my poor choices but get the facts to her.
I knocked upon the door where Rhonda and Paul had disappeared and yelled that I had to talk to Rhonda. Paul yelled back, ‘’Slither under the door you slug.’’
I heard Rhonda giggle. I made no further effort. It was then I envisioned what had to be done.
A bitter resolve overwhelmed me, but instead of descending into tears or crying out in anger, I gritted my teeth. This must be the real source of the term ‘fucked’ I thought. I sat in silence for another hour. I needed vengeance I concluded. Whatever my failings this treatment of the past few weeks now rested fully with me to resolve.
‘This isn’t okay’ I repeated as a mantra. Complication to my resolve compounded when I returned home though.
I found mother in bed with coach Conley, after rushing to her room to seek her support of my plan. In addition, as salt in my wounds, this idiot was fucking her as he gazed upon my glossy photos.
I went to the bed, grabbed them from under his nose, and ran. He and mother were too shocked to say anything. He burst out the room, chased me down the hall and slipped rounding a corner, though he caught me by my ankle. I grabbed a baseball bat that leaned against my brother’s door jamb and whacked him across his jaw in a fury I’d never experienced. Blood splattered everywhere, with a dental bridge on the floor before I realized I had knocked him unconscious, or dead. Mother came over as I stood above him. I spat upon the heap of blubber. A gaze of anger found mother. I said in bitterness, ‘'you can keep him’'.
Mother screamed and collapsed by his side in tears. It was incredible to me; yet, I restrained taking the bat to her too — she must have known he was looking upon those photographs. I heard her on the phone demanding the police. I was resolute with no intention of staying to explain it to them though.
I got from my room, the collar and the information I'd copied from it, a change of clothes, and retrieved the cash in coaches wallet; fifty dollars. I left the house for the last time focused.
I looked up John from the pool hall, and he invited me to stay with him. After a week with him I thumbed to Columbia, SC. A fatigued driver showed me how to do a stick shift to help him get home. At his home I used his phone to call the local FBI. He invited me to stay the night and we slept together, though I declined sex with him.
That next day I informed the local FBI I had evidence from a case they’d recently been involved in and needed to contact the agent in charge of my case in Atlanta. He was the tall, serious bony tall agent I told them. He wasn’t on hand I was told. I said I’d call them back after giving them my name.
I went to the leather shop that had been printed on the collar, and they gave me the identity and address of this monster who’d wrecked my life.
I found his house, yet he wasn’t there even though his Healy sat in front. The van was gone. I broke in and heard from my room a cry for help. It was pad locked. I pried it open using the Healey’s steel jack handle, and inside was a boy of around 10. At first, I had thought it might have been Edmond—who I was furious with. I intended to kill Edmond, just from his comments … or out of jealousy, though aware of the cognitive dissonance. The boy’s naked presence shocked me and gave me a whole new perspective to needed actions.
'Greyson' wasn’t there. I wonder even today how all might have gone very wrong had he been there and what I would've done. But it really was as I'd hoped; since oddly, my plan was to steal his statue of David. That was it.
I figured, upon this new revalation that he’d be on the phone with the boy’s parents or some other nefarious activity, like developing additional pictures of me and the others.
I found the keys to the Healy in the kitchen. I placed the statue behind the seat, where I saw my blue blazer. Intending to cover the statue, under my jacket sat Lester's ax handle.
''He wasn't lying'' I laughed. I picked it up, and walked around to the hood of the car.
''He said I put a scratch on it here.'' I pointed. I pounded that spot some number of inaccurate blows where the hood was dented beyond repair. I was about to hurl the handle into the woods; but stopped, and I offered it out to the boy. He took the ax handle and as a spear hurled it perfectly through the center of the man's bedroom bay window. I was told later they found it lodged in the wall above the man's bed. The boy and I drove off. We didn’t converse as we went to the FBI office. As an aside, it may seem too unlikely I’d have gear shift lessons just prior to this, but think of all the other odd occurrences that’d befallen me.
We met the Columbia area FBI agent. The local police were called in too, but I stayed with the agent at the office rather than attend the circus that must have developed at the man's house. I recounted my ordeal honestly, my being raped by that Atlanta agent too, and the connection the FBI hadn’t made with the Day’s Inn and Stu’s death -- where a witness to the events could be found named Arfy Goocher.
I gave him the pictures from a murderer, with coaches fingerprints, a pervert coach preacher. The leather shop where I had obtained this Master's address also had his 'dungeon' location; so, the evidence was solid which included pictures and all the dealing he'd had with Stu's family. The Columbia agent also set up a sting later upon the other Atlanta agent, where I nailed him too. I was delighted I was assembling a great parade of people to be seen in court, of whom their lives would have a detour of my making.
I called dad.
