The Secret: Part III

Its scary how one small decision can change the entire rest of your life. I made a poor choice getting into that guy’s truck, but hell, it wasn’t my fault. He looked familiar. I didn’t know where, but I saw that guy before. It only took me a short while to discover just who he was.

His picture was all over town. He was running for council at the time. Honest politician, ya right!

He took me to his house, not mine. Duct tape over an eleven year old’s mouth didn’t take  long to put the fear of God in me, that’s for sure. My hands and feet were bound with the stuff as well. I felt like a hog tied cow. At first he wasn’t violent, but the violence got worse when I cried to go home. As bad as home  was, it was better than this.

He didn’t allow  me to descend the stairs. Rather, he threw me down into the hole. I can still feel the pain in my legs as I hit the hard concrete floor. My legs were never the same.

He made me do things. Terrible things. The old  bastard had a camera rolling the entire  time. I recognized some of the men in the room, but the drugs he fed me took away any chances I had of running away. He made me do things with them too. I still remember their laughs and taunts. Hell I was eleven!

I did escape though. He got sloppy and left the door open one day. I ran out and for home. Of course nobody would believe me when I tried to tell them where I was. My mom didn’t care anyway. As long as she got to spend time with her new man, she didn’t give a damn where I was.

How many times did I try to go back to his place? The first time I got caught, the cops nearly beat me to death. Trouble, that’s what they called me. My first stint in the Correctional Center for Delinquent Boys was even worst than the torture I suffered in the first place. I felt like I must have had a sign somewhere on my back that read “Feel free to abuse at will”. I wish I didn’t.

The second  time I got hauled in, I had followed him home. I approached him on  his front step. The cops must have been watching. Second term at the center was even worst than the first.

Two stints in the Fed Pen and now I have a criminal record. But I don’t  care.  I have it all here in my hand…

The tape.

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