By GWHARGIS
The black and white cruiser was on its routine patrol along Rt. 17 in lower Patterson County. Every day at 11 a.m. or there abouts, Deputy Dan Haislip and his partner Tim Reardon rode the same stretch of road. Both knew that this would be their daily routine for the next 15 years or more.
"Do anything exciting this weekend?" Dan asked, looking once in his rear view mirror before returning his eyes back to the road in front of them. He lived vicariously through his younger partner. Tim was good looking, still single, and according to those who were in the know, quite the player.
"Went to a cookout at the Morrisons."
"Um, road kill on the grill."
Tim smiled. "Could have been, but that high dollar beer Morrison serves sure does wash it down."
"And besides a belly full of beer, did you take anything else home with you?"
"Didn't take anyone home, but I did get a date with that new pharmacist at Correll's."
Dan winced. He'd seen her. He had been hoping to catch a cold or something just so he could go into the drugstore. He hadn't quite reached the creepy peepers stage yet, but he was damn close.
Tim studied the passing scenery, hoping to catch sight of a deer or black bear to break up the boring ride. Other than the explosion of red and yellow leaves in autumn, the landscape hardly varied ten months out of the year. Change, both landscape and social, came slow to Patterson, North Carolina. Some said that was a blessing, while others said it was a curse. Tim figured it was a bit of both. But as Tim looked for something to relieve the tedious trek, he spied something moving off in the woods.
"Whoa," he said, tapping Dan on the arm. "Pull over."
"You can't wait til we get back to town?"
Tim shook his head, his green eyes searching the woods. "Back up."
"What is it?"
"I saw something. Just back there."
Dan maneuvered the car onto the shoulder of the road and leaned around to look past his partner. "I don't see anything."
"There."
Dan squinted, wondering if his partner was fucking with him. "Are you messing around?"
Tim unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door handle. "Stop the car. It's a person."
"A person or a body?"
Tim threw open the door and started running down the hill, clearing the muddy ditch in one fluid leap.
"Damn it," Dan muttered, throwing it in park and jumping out to follow his partner. He was a good fifty feet behind Tim when he saw him stop and hold up his hand, halting Dan in his tracks.
"Mister, you okay?" Tim asked.
The man was slight of build, dressed in a madras button down shirt and crisp khakis. When he looked up Tim realized how young the guy was. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. The boy's eyes were glassy. His delayed response to Reardon's greeting made Tim wonder if he was under the influence or maybe just dim witted.
"What are you doing sitting out here in the woods?" Dan asked as he eased up next to his partner. He was winded, breathing loudly as studied the boy. He leaned over to whisper to Tim. "He said anything to you?"
Tim shook his head. "Son, you need to come with us. It ain't safe out here. Black bears are all through these woods."
The boy looked up at them, an unsteady smile came to his face. "God will protect me." He tapped something beside him on the fallen tree where he was sitting. Only then did both deputies notice the small leather bound Bible beside him.
"Well, God looks out for us all, but he don't reward stupid," Dan said.
The smile faded from the boy's face as he looked at Dan. "You don't believe in your heart, do you?"
Dan nudged Tim, hoping the man would notice how the boy's words were slurred. "Are you on something?"
The boy's vacant smile returned. "I'm full of God's love."
Dan rolled his eyes in disgust. "What's your name, kid?"
"John."
"Got a last name, John?"
"She gave me the name John, that is all."
Confused, both deputies looked at each other. Dan was the first to respond to the boy's odd answer, "Who is she?"
John sat there quietly, and at first both Dan and Tim thought maybe he hadn't heard the question.
"Hello? Who gave you the name John?"
"Miss Lila. She saved me. I was going to hell but she saved me." He stood up and brushed his pants off before reaching to gather his Bible. He took several steps towards them and lost his balance.
Tim lunged, grabbing a hold of him before he fell. "Whoa, John. Here let me help you," he said, slipping his arm under John's and steadying him. "How long you been out here?"
"I recited the Beatitudes two hundred repetitions. I missed none."
"Miss Lila, is she your mother?"
"John was born anew. He has no mother, only the heavenly Father."
Both Dan and Tim helped him back to the patrol car and into the backseat. When they shut the door Dan turned to look at his partner. "Looks like he's either high as a kite or brainwashed."
"I wonder if we should skip the station and just take him directly to Patterson General. The docs there should be able to get a fix on him."
"Let's see what else we can get from him. It's a long ride back, maybe he'll sober up between here and there."
"Dr. Hodges owes us a favor. We could probably get him to come a look at the kid."
Dan slipped behind the wheel and watched the boy in his rear view mirror. He was rocking back and forth, mouthing something, which Dan could only assume was a prayer or the Beatitudes thing, with his eyes closed.
"John, you like country music?"
"I only like Christian music. Everything else is the Devil's whisper."
"What'd you like before Miss Lila saved you?"
John stared into the mirror. "The past belonged to the Devil. I will not speak of it."
Dan shrugged then reached for the handset to report to the station. "Okay, no county music."
| Author Notes | The is a book I wrote several years ago. I liked the story but am up for suggestions. Thank you in advance for feed back. Unfortunately, Formerly known as Turtle has come to a screeching halt. This one is done. |
By GWHARGIS
John sat in a small cell alone. Haislip and Reardon decided he would be safer in isolation. Besides being intoxicated in the woods, John had committed no crime. He was on the edge of the urine stained cot, engrossed in the small Bible that he'd been found with. Doctor Hodges leaned against the wall in the cell, asking random questions and listening patiently as John told him about his personal relationship with God. After fifteen minutes, Dr. Hodges excused himself and joined the deputies in the main room.
"So, Doc, what's his deal?" Tim asked, looking up from the paperwork he was trying to finish.
"He's cooperative, polite, well spoken. I wish all the patients I dealt with were like him. He's in good health considering."
"Considering what?"
"All he's been through. Look, Dan, he's been brainwashed. Because there are no outward marks, doesn't mean he didn't go through hell. He's had IV's. I saw the needle marks on his hands and arm." Doctor Hodges crossed the small station to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Any clue as to who he is?"
"Nope," Tim said, glancing at the papers before him as if maybe the answer was there. "All we get out of him is that his name is John. He loves his heavenly Father, and Miss Lila saved him."
"He's been programmed."
"Come again." Dan said.
"It's the only information he feels safe telling you. Whatever has made him this way, you can bet he went through hell."
Tim and Dan exchanged glances. Things like this didn't happen here in Patterson.
"Cults are famous for brainwashing. There is physical intimidation, sleep deprivation, stripping one of their individuality."
Reardon raked his fingers through his hair. "Just seems to me that someone would be missing a kid like him."
Dr. Hodges smiled. "Suppose he wasn't a nice kid before. He's had multiple piercings. His eyebrow, several on his ears, even his eyebrow. He has a tattoo on the back of his neck ... barbed wire wrapped around a Marijuana leaf."
"You're kidding?"
Dr. Hodges shook his head. "No sir, when I asked about it, he said that the Devil no longer lived in him. Perhaps you should run his prints. Could be he's been in here before."
Dan smacked his forehead and pulled the print pad out of his top drawer. "Back in a flash," he said.
John was intent on the open book in his lap, not bothering to look up when Dan unlocked the cell and entered.
"John, my friend, I need to borrow your fingers for a few minutes."
John looked up, blue eyes void of fear or deception. "Am I under arrest or something?"
"Relax. Nothing wrong. It's procedure. Every God fearing teenager who rides in our black and white gets printed."
John closed his Bible and extended his right hand. He watched Dan closely. "You aren't a Christian, are you"
Dan pretended to be busy setting up the temporary print station there in the cell. He wouldn't make eye contact with the kid. He'd never been comfortable talking about religion or his faith or lack of it. Stuff like that was personal. It was no body's business.
" I believe in God, if that's what you're asking." He motioned for John to come over. He rolled the boy's thumb on the ink pad, then carefully pressed it on the paper. Each finger was printed and then pressed down.
John waited until Dan was finished, and was cleaning each of his fingertips with an alcohol wipe before he continued. "You don't really believe."
Dan shrugged. "That's a nice tat."
John's eyes flickered for a second, and he walked back over to his cot. He lifted the Bible and opened it. "Is that all?"
"You get that done locally? How much did something like that set you back?"
"I don't remember."
"Get it done recently? You can't get one without parental permission if you're under eighteen. My dad would have lost his mind if I had done that to myself."
"My Father forgave me."
"What about Miss Lila? Did she forgive you?"
John shifted on the cot. "She understood the power the Devil had over me. She gave me the courage to fight him. Without her, I would be dead."
The boy's demeanor was changing. He was becoming more guarded. Dan knew better than to push any further.
"John , you hungry?"
"A little."
"How about I get you a turkey sandwich and a coke?"
"Yes. Thank you." John said. He leaned back on the cot and turned away from Dan.
For a second or two Dan watched John. The clean cut young man holding the Bible was at odds with the tattooed guy with the Phantom piercings. This mystery kid was hidden under the khaki and religious rhetoric. The only way to find out was to dig deeper.
| Author Notes | Feedback welcome. |
By GWHARGIS
If it hadn't been for the pains in his own stomach reminding him it was well past lunchtime, Dan never would have thought about the possibility that their guest might be too. The kid seemed so, what was the word, at peace, unnaturally at peace. Who knows when the last time he ate or had something to drink. Dan thought about what the doctor had said. Could he have been brainwashed? He was polite, though a tad too Bible junkie for Dan's taste. But the tattoo on his neck painted an entirely different persona.
Dan walked back down the corridor to the holding cell. Once again the boy was reading the Bible.
"Knock, knock. Is there anybody you need to call? Maybe you want to let your parents know you're okay."
John looked up. "It's fine."
Aggravation was starting to set in. What could this mild mannered Jesus freak be hiding from? All Dan wanted was a couple of solid answers to his questions. He was growing tired of dancing around the altar with the kid.
"So, what's your last name?"
"I am called John."
"Look, everybody has a last name. Even Jesus of Nazereth."
John frowned, his blue eyes glowed under his furrowed brows. "Nazareth was where he was from."
"Christ, John. His name was Jesus Christ."
"Who told you that?"
Dan growled under his breath, "The Pope."
"Ah. Well I'm not Catholic."
Dan sat down on the chair that was bolted to the floor. He crossed his leg over and sat back, hoping John would see that he wasn't leaving until he got some real answers. "So, this Miss Lila, what was she like?"
"She never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself."
"Did they give you drugs, John?"
"You mean pot?"
"I mean anything. You have needle marks on you. Was that from something they gave you?"
John sighed. He tried not to think about that stuff. The devil's playground was what Miss Lila called the world. He had been deep in the devil's playground when Miss Lila had gotten her hands on him. "She had to make me see the world for myself. She didn't give me anything just to get me high. She did it to open my eyes. It was a tool to teach me."
Dan cleaned his thumbnail, refusing to make eye contact. This was the most information he'd gotten so far. "So, how old are you?"
"Why do you keep asking me about before. The past is history. Ask me about now. Ask about this John."
Dan caught himself before he let go a laugh. He shrugged. "Honestly, you're kind of boring."
The young man shifted on the cot, and picked up his Bible. The sound of the pages as he turned them was the only noise.
"I'll bet you were interesting before."
"I was lost. Now I am found."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, I'm just saying I bet I would have liked you better before."
John looked up sharply. There was an undercurrent of anger that radiated in his eyes. "No one liked me before. Why do you think they gave me to her?"
Carefully, Dan studied his nails, trying not to let John know he was giving valuable information. "So, Miss Lila took you against your will?"
"I was stupid. I couldn't see that she wanted to help me."
"She helped you by giving you drugs. She smoke dope with you?"
"It was aversion therapy."
Dan nodded. "It seems to have worked."
John was quiet for a moment then he spoke. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why don't you believe in God?"
Dan cut his eyes, hoping to quiet the boy. He could be pretty intimidating when he tried. But John's gaze never wavered. "What makes you think I don't?"
"I can see it in your eyes. When you ask a person about God, whether they believe or not, they answer with their eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul."
Dan chewed his lip as he listened. Now that John was wanting some of his own answers maybe they could come to an understanding. "Here's the deal. I'll let you talk to me about God, Jesus, Peter, Paul and Mary. Heck, you can talk to me about Gilligan and the Professor, if you're so inclined, but only if we cut to the chase and answer one question."
"And that question is?"
"What was your name before? None of this just John crap. Just tell me your name, the name you went by before Miss Lila saved you."
Dan knew he was being evaluated. John could just as easily refuse to answer any more questions.
"You seem to be a man of your word so I'll answer you." He looked down at the Bible almost shamefully.
"My name was John Damon Lancaster." His voice was low, filled with pain. "Everyone called me Damon."
Jackpot. Dan smiled, at least until he remembered his own promise.
| Author Notes | Feed back. |
By GWHARGIS
He'd been an easy child when he was young. He'd been raised to respect people, property and be courteous of others. John Damon, or Damon as everyone referred to him was the epitome of the perfect child, at least until he hit puberty. Then it seemed to his parents as if their sweet little boy went to bed one night and a belligarent, foul mouthed teenager woke up in his bed the next morning.
He started to let his hair grow out, not happy until it hung lifeless in his eyes. Then he proceeded to dye it black. His bright blue eyes went from startling to scary.
Both his mother, Donna, and his father, Blake, had been okay with the hair. After all, they had grown up in the eighties when hair was used as a statement. It was when Damon had starting poking holes in his body and face that both parents started to lose patience. Blake used to jokingly refer to his son as the pin cushion.
Still, all of that was simple self-expression. Each week a new mode of expression reared its ugly head. The music was the worst. Straight up crap is how Blake described it. Donna thought it bordered on Devil worshipping music.
The more they showed signs of concern, the more Damon showed signs of rebellion. Blake found a roach clip in the family car. He knew damn well it didn't belong to Donna or himself. In a fit of rage he tore Damon's room apart. It wasn't too hard to find the baggy of pot.
Blake smoked back in the day. He stopped when Donna and he had gotten married. And now as he waited for Damon to get home from school, he went over the impending scene in his head. He could do this. He would handle this situation like a good dad. Damon would expect yelling, but Blake was going to remind his son that he had been young once. He would keep it from Donna, tell Damon to be careful, use his head.
It had been so easy in his imagination.
"Damon, leave this in the car?" Blake asked, holding the brass roach clip out for Damon to see.
There wasn't the slightest hint of fear in the boy's eyes. "Not mine. Guess one of my friends left it in there."
Blake nodded, not at all shocked his son had passed the buck. He wondered how Damon would explain the baggy of pot. "Did the same friend hide this in your room?"
"You fuckin' went through my stuff?" Damon snapped. He grabbed for the bag. "My room is off limits."
Blake blinked. Hadn't seen this coming. "This is my house, Damon. When you're out on your own smoke all the damned weed you want, but when you live under my roof-."
"Oh, whatever." Damon laughed.
Blake had never wanted to punch his son, at least not until now. "Damon, you better watch yourself."
"Give me the bag."
"No."
"Goddammit. It's not mine."
Blake really had to give it to the boy. He was sticking with the story that he was holding it for a friend. Now was his chance to diffuse the situation. "We need to talk."
There was something in Damon's smile that Blake didn't recognize. Someone else was looking out through his son's eyes.
Blake and Donna prayed on it. Maybe God would intercede. They needed all the help they could get. The child they loved was disappearing.
Almost two weeks to the day Blake had confronted Damon, a note appeared in their mailbox. There was a name, a phone number and one sentence written. 'LAST CHANCE TO SAVE YOUR CHILD FROM ETERNAL DAMNATION.'
Blake had showed the note to his wife. Neither would call the number, but neither threw it away. Damon wasn't headed for eternal damnation. Surely, this was just a phase. They prayed some more. Praying together for the soul of their son should have been enough.
But one of them did call or maybe they both had. It was on a Monday afternoon when they met Miss Lila Savoy.
She stood just shy of six feet, with hair the color of a rusting fire truck. She was harsh looking, yet she spoke in such a quiet and refined manner it took both Blake and Donna by surprise. "You must be Damon's parents." She extended a hand and her grip was every bit as firm as Blake's own.
Miss Lila didn't wait for an invitation. She eased past the couple and took in the surroundings. "You have a lovely home."
Without waiting for either of them to acknowledge her compliment, she looked towards the stairs and looked at Donna. "I'd like to see the boy's room now."
As Donna led Miss Lila towards the stairs, Blake reached to close the front door. Three teenagers were waiting on the porch.
"Miss Savoy, are they with you?"
Lila Savoy nodded as she mounted the first step. "They can wait."
Blake and Donna exchanged looks. This Miss Lila was something else. Maybe she was exactly what they needed. Perhaps Lila Savoy was the answer to their prayers.
| Author Notes | Feed back. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
Donna led Miss Lila Savoy up the staircase and paused in front of Damon's bedroom door. It had been so long since she had been inside the boy's room that she was suddenly afraid of what waited on the other side. Several years ago she would have thrown open the door with pride, eager to show off the Pottery Barn inspired theme, but now... She could already smell the unpleasant odors despite it being closed.
Miss Lila moved past her, quickly throwing the door open. The room smelled of old sweat, mildew and other odors that Donna dared not put a name to. Miss Lila didn't bother to hide her disgust.
"He smokes pot, I'm assuming."
Donna smiled weakly. "I'm not sure."
Miss Lila merely walked across the bedroom, carefully stepping over the piles of clothes that dotted the dirty carpet like land mines. She lifted a coke can that had been crudely cut and a straw protruding out of the metal. "You're not sure?" she asked.
Donna looked down at the floor. She felt stupid, and though she had never felt like it before, she was starting to feel like a bad parent.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lancaster, but you called me. If you want to pretend that this will all work itself out, by all means, continue to think that. My time is very valuable. There are other families out there that are willing to admit they have lost control."
Donna wiped at her brimming, tear filled eyes.
"Perhaps if you talk to some of the people I brought with me, you'll see there is no other way. I want to help you and your husband. Your son is worth saving. This will probably be one of the hardest decisions you will ever have to make," she said, then with a gesture to the filthy bedroom she continued. "But feeling like a bad mother for a few days is nothing to the feeling of losing your child forever."
Donna nodded. She wondered what time it was. He would be home soon, they needed to be out of his room. Donna felt bad enough, she didn't need her son going off on her in front of a total stranger.
"Let me call the others in. " Miss Lila led Donna out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind them.
Once downstairs, Miss Lila motioned for the couple to sit on the couch then she went to the front door. "Zachary," she said softly, ushering a young man into the living room.
He had a pleasant smile. His green eyes shined under dark brows. There was a splattering of tiny brown freckles across the bridge of his nose. His hair was cut short, bordering on military style. He reached for Blake's hand as Lila introduced him.
"This is Zachary Teller. He's my joy," she said, her voice was filled with fierce pride as she looked at the boy. "He was quite different when he came to us."
Zachary smiled as he looked at Miss Lila, as if she were the sun itself. After a few seconds, he turned to look at the Lancasters. "I was addicted to heroin," he said. "I got kicked out of my house and was living on the streets. I slept with whoever could get me my next fix."
Blake stared at him. The kid looked like a young Republican not a streetwise junkie. "Can I ask you something, Zachary?"
Zachary nodded his head quickly, leaned forward to give Blake all of his attention. "Yes, sir."
"Did you want to change?"
To Blake's surprise, Zachary laughed. "I wanted to die. But I wanted to go out high. I gave myself what I thought was a hotshot."
Donna looked at her husband in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that is."
Zachary looked up at Miss Lila before he answered. "It's a dose so strong that it's meant to kill. I almost did it but someone found me. I got rushed to the hospital and when I finally came to, there was this red haired lady praying over me. She was yelling at Satan, telling him that he couldn't have me." He paused for a moment and drew in a breath. His smile disappeared and he locked eyes with Donna. "She said something that no one had ever said about me. She said 'you can't have him. God has plans for this young man. I will fight you, Satan. This young man is going to live'."
Miss Lila reached out and cupped the side of his face. "I meant it, too." Without looking at the Lancasters, she whispered, "I love all of my children. Oh, they hate me at first, but every last one comes to love me in the end."
For Donna, that was the clincher. Any doubts she had about Miss Lila in the beginning were gone when she heard how she spoke of her 'children'. Seeing and listening to Zachary convinced her that Miss Lila was Damon's last chance.
Blake, on the other hand , waited patiently as the others told their stories. Varied, but still as desperate as Zachary was, Blake was left wondering if his son was as far gone as they. Now, he prepared to feel the unspoken wrath of his wife as he broached the subject of money. "How much will all of this cost?"
"Blake!" Donna said.
"It's quite alright, Mrs. Lancaster. I would wonder about you if you didn't ask. I won't lie, it isn't cheap. Ten thousand for the three months at my facility. It's a hefty amount, but you will go to bed each night knowing that your child is in a safe environment, getting three nutritious meals a day, getting the counseling he needs. We have a well rounded curriculum as well as group activities. There is one thing that you may not like, but I assure you that it is for the best. You will not have contact with him, until he is at the point where he can handle it. That could be as few as two weeks or as long as two months. It all depends on him. In reality, this whole thing depends on him."
Ten thousand would wipe out all of the savings they had put aside for Damon's college, plus a large portion of his own 401K. But at this rate, Damon was about as much college material as he was fun to be around. He looked at Donna, saw the last bit of hope reflected back. He sighed and nodded.
"I can write a check for seven thousand, but I can't get the rest until next week."
Miss Lila excused the others and sat back down on the chair. "Do you have a recent picture of your son?"
Blake rose and went out of the living room. When he was out of earshot, Miss Lila reached across the coffee table and covered Donna's hand with her own. "Don't cry, my child. The only tears you need shed will be the tears of joy when your precious son returns to you."
| Author Notes | Feed back. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
Blake returned with three pictures of Damon. The first two were school pictures of him. One was his sixth grade class picture, when his hair was still sun kissed from spending time on the beach. The next was his eighth grade picture. There was no smile. It was the start of the lie they told themselves over and over. It's just a phase. The final picture was from Christmas last year. Odd that the flash had turned his eyes red and glowing. He looked down right sinister in the picture. "Last Christmas," Blake mumbled as she looked at the pictures, taking longer on the last one.
She handed them back to Blake. "This one," she said, tapping the eighth grade picture. "This is when you started noticing the change in him, am I right?"
"Yes," Donna said. "It's like he stopped smiling. He lost interest in everything he used to enjoy."
"Adolescents are very susceptible to the influences of the Devil."
Blake frowned and nudged his wife. "I think it was more because he got cut from the middle school soccer team, Miss Savoy."
"Satan waits and watches for any opportunity. You may be right, Mr. Lancaster, but don't you think it's taking him an awfully long time to get over it?" She smiled without looking up at him.
Donna slipped her hand into her husband's and squeezed it. "When should we bring him to your facility?"
Miss Lila smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand. "We will get him at the end of school on Friday."
"What should I pack for him? I can do that now, if you'd like." Donna said, quickly.
"Mrs. Lancaster, we will provide your son with everything he needs."
Miss Lila stood abruptly, embraced Donna then Blake. "You're doing the right thing. Praise be to God! You will have your son back."
The van pulled away and Blake looked over at his wife. She was fluffing the pillows on the couch. Nerves, he thought as he watched her walk over to the piano in the corner. She lifted the edge of her shirt and wiped away some imaginary speck of dust. "Who knows, maybe he'll start playing the piano again." Her too bright smile just about broke his heart.
Blake had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something about Miss Lila that didn't seem right. Maybe he was being cynical, or maybe he didn't want to think someone else could get through to his son when he had failed.
Donna nervously glanced up when the sound of Damon's skateboard got closer to the house. "Do you think the Devil could...," she whispered, letting her words trail off.
Damon opened the door and stopped when he found both of his parents staring at him. "What'd I do?"
Donna forced a cheery smile on her face. "I have an idea. Let's go out to dinner."
"Sure." Blake nodded.
Damon cocked his eyebrow. "Why are ya'll acting so weird?"
"Come on, it's been a long time since we've all been out to dinner."
The boy shook his head, letting a rare laugh escape. "Wait while I take care of some things."
He took off up the stairs, clearing three at a time.
Donna glanced nervously at the ceiling, hoping he wouldn't see any tell tale signs that she and Miss Lila had trespassed. After ten minutes, she went to peek up the steps. "What do you think he's doing?"
"My guess, he's hiding his stash."
Miss Lila gathered her children around her. She extended both hands. "Let us pray for the lost. Pray for the Lancaster boy." She tossed her head back, eyes closed. "Jesus, thank you for sending them to us. Give us the strength to fight the demon that resides in him. Know, sweet Jesus, that we will not give up on him. No matter what it takes, we will bring him back to your fold." She paused and drew in a deep breath. "In your glorious name, amen."
The others murmured amen.
Zachary sat on the end of his bed, eyes clamped together tightly, lost in his own prayer. It was the same prayer, his secret prayer. Not even Miss Lila knew of this prayer. He asked for strength to resist the urges that bubbled under the surface.
He'd always felt different, attracted to other boys. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. But Miss Lila said it was a sin. It was the gravest of sins. He didn't know if she still saw it in him or not.
She had taken him into her office one night after he'd lingered too long with one of the new boys. He remembered the light of the candle as it flickered around the room.
"We all have a dark side, Zachary, even I do. But there are some things that are so wrong. Homosexuality is an abomination. Any man who lays with another man is going to hell," she whispered.
The whisper tore at his ears. The heat of the candle burned his skin. Zachary dared not breathe.
"Fight it, Zachary. Fight this demon."
He laid back on the bed and curled up. With Miss Lila's help he would continue to fight.
| Author Notes | Feed back. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
Damon was starting to notice that his parents were acting pretty strange, even stranger than they normally did. It was bordering on creepy.
"How was school?" his mother asked.
He cocked his eyebrow, idly fingering the little silver stud below his bottom lip. Was she for real? "Enlightening."
Blake tapped his fingers on the table. He didn't want to be here. Honestly, he wanted to throw up. Before Miss Lila Savoy had left, with his seven thousand dollar check in her hand, she had pushed several papers in front of them. Most had been standard things about being able to seek medical attention for Damon should he need it, and speaking to him about God and Christianity. But the last one, that had left a sour taste in his mouth. It had been a paper relinquishing their parental rights. Temporarily, Lila had assured them.
"Hey, Rita," Damon called to the old waitress who's personality was as faded as her uniform.
She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.
"Can I get some more coke?" He shook his plastic cup letting the ice rattle loudly. Odd that he called her by her name, seeing as how he assured his parents that he'd never been there before. But of course, Damon wasn't above lying.
Rita came over, lugging a pitcher of sweet tea. She poured some into Donna's glass then took Damon's glass and walked back behind the counter. When she returned she looked at Damon a second longer she did at Blake and Donna. She started to walk away but stopped and turned around. "This your kid?"
Donna nodded, smiling as she waited for a rare compliment she thought might be coming.
"Got quite a mouth on him," Rita said. Her tone was flat and it was apparent she had dealt with him on a number of occasions.
Blake waited until Rita walked away. "What the hell did she mean?"
A smart-ass smile covered Damon's face. "How should I know?" He picked up the salt shaker and turned it over letting a small pile collect on the table top.
"Stop it, Damon," Donna said, snatching it from his hand.
"Christ, I'm not hurting anything."
Blake shook his head. "She's going to have to clean it up."
"It's her job."
"She gets three dollars an hour. Her job is to serve food, it is not her job to have to clean up after you."
Damon shrugged, casually reaching over to where his mother had set the salt shaker down. He picked it up, twirling it gently in his hand. While his parents talked he unscrewed the cap and let the white crystals pour out on the table. "Oops."
"Dammit, Damon, why did you do that?"
"Maybe I'm just not challenged enough." He smiled, reminding them of the time in ninth grade when a teacher had called them in for a conference. She had a list of infractions and rules he had broken. He knew this time he was going to get grounded at the very least. His father had looked the teacher in the eye and said those very words.
It was the first in many outs his parents had bestowed on him. It was like a get out of jail free card, and he used it as often as possible.
"Honestly, Damon, we don't know what to do with you anymore," his mother whispered. She was either going to start crying and boo hooing about how much she worried about him or she was about to go full pms on him. Either way, it would be entertaining.
"Two more years and I'm out of here," Damon said.
Blake's jaw squared with tension. He watched with disgust as his son liked the end of his finger and dabbed it in the pile of salt. He sucked the salt off and locked eyes with Blake. "Want some?"
"What are you going to do when you move out in two years?" Blake said. It was the same question he asked weekly. Day after day, father and son picked at the same wound, never letting it heal. "You think it's easy to live on your own. Nobody around to clean up after you. No pocketbooks to swipe a twenty from."
"Beats listening to this crap all the time."
They were starting to piss him off now. Why he thought they could have a regular dinner he didn't know. It was always the same.
"No one will hire you. I wouldn't. "
"I wouldn't work for you. "
Blake pushed his plate away and turned to his wife. "Honey, will you pay while I go to the restroom?" He handed Donna a fifty. As he slid out of the booth, he motioned to the waitress. "Tell her to keep the change."
In his head, Damon did the math. Rita would be getting a twenty dollar tip. Guess it was Blake's way of easing his conscience. Damon blew at the pile of salt sending to scattering across the table. "I'll wait outside," he said and left his mother. As he passed the counter he nodded at the waitress. "Later, Rita."
Without missing a beat, the old woman smirked. "Can't hardly wait."
| Author Notes | Feedback. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
Donna slept very little that night. After an hour or two of tossing and turning, she pushed off the covers and made her way quietly down the stairs. She went over to the piano, her fingertips grazing across the perfect ivory keys.
Pulling out the dark wood bench she was flooded with memories of Damon when he was younger. They had been so close back then. She tried to pinpoint the moment things changed. It was silly to blame one moment in time on a chasm that came between them. Donna couldn't help but think that if she could figure out when and where things had changed maybe she would feel better.
She opened the top of the bench and sifted through the dozen or so pieces of sheet music and found something to play. She picked up sheet music for The Way We Were. Somber and regretful, it was fitting for her mood.
Not seeing Damon for God knows how long was going to be unbearable. Despite his frequent outbursts and bizarre fashion choices, he was still her little baby. Underneath it all, Donna could picture the little blue eyed boy who used to run to her when she appeared at day care to pick him up. His smiling face peering up at her as he handed her a picture he had drawn. And somewhere in the steamer trunk at the foot of her bed the pictures were still there.
It was for his own good. He needed this. It was tough love, something that had to work because their normal love just wasn't cutting it.
She opened up the sheet music and placed her fingers on the keys. It took only a few notes before she escaped into the melody. Once again, she was amazed that the beautiful tune was controlled by her mere touch.
Blake listened in the darkness of the bedroom. At first, he thought it was Damon. He slid his hand across the bed and realized it was his wife. He rolled over and kicked the blanket off. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. There would be no sleeping tonight. All he could do was shower, get dressed and join his wife in what would be the longest night of their lives.
Damon smoked a joint, huddled in the back of his closet. His parents didn't even know about the safe place in his closet. He had only found it on accident. He'd thrown something at the back wall of the closet, a basketball or something like that. Immediately, he knew he'd gone through. Panicking, he shined a flashlight to see the damage. But when he looked closer, he saw that there was a small room behind the wall. It was a very cool find. A secret little hideaway just for Damon. It became his safe place. He'd brought a girl home one day when both of his parents had been gone. They shared a joint in his little room and then shared a little bit of each other. His first time and her, how did she put it? She had lost count. He didn't care one way or another. He hadn't been in love so it was no skin off his nose how many guys she had been with.
Tonight he lay on the quilt in his secret room, staring up at the American Flag that he'd stolen from the VFW building last summer. The thought of those old dudes demanding justice for whoever stole their stupid flag had given him something to smile about for several weeks.
His parents had been so damn weird tonight, like they were hiding something. Maybe one of them found out they were dying. That would suck, but it would explain the Norman Rockwell attempt at family dinner earlier.
By the time his high had worn off, he crawled out of the closet and flopped down on his bed. His sheets smelled so bad it almost made him gag. If he actually took them off and asked her to wash them she'd probably start weeping because she thought he was getting out of this phase. His mother blamed everything she didn't like on a phase. Damon rolled over on his back and sighed. He closed his eyes wondering when she would get out of her nagging phase.
| Author Notes | Feed back. This is short but I had to stop it here. |
By GWHARGIS
John lay on the cot in his cell. He knew they would be calling the Lancasters. It was their duty and he respected that, still John had little desire to see them. They represented the past. True they had brought him into this world, but they had forsaken him as well. He wasn't thinking about how they handed him over to Miss Lila, that had turned out to be a good thing. They had forsaken their duty as parents, letting him make mistake after mistake. They should have stopped him.
It was Miss Lila who had stepped up. In her fierce but loving way, she had shown him God's plan for him. He had been forced to see that every choice he had made in his life had been in defiance in the face of God.
"Do you think God looks at you and likes what he sees?" Miss Lila had said.
She held him before a floor to ceiling mirror. He'd been stripped naked. He stood there humiliated, shame and embarrassment coursing through his body. Anger, helplessness and a dozen other emotions pulsed through his veins. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he was forced to look at the holes in his face and ears. The mottled tattoo like an ugly birthmark on the back of his neck, stood out bruised blue against his pale skin.
"You have vandalized the temple, John."
He tried to cover himself with his hands. Now he cried openly. Why wouldn't she stop saying these things to him?
Miss Lila had left him to face himself in the mirror. When she returned she was holding his belt, the one he had been wearing when he first came. She ran her fingers along the wide strap of leather. "This is for your own good."
Then she had proceeded to whip him. With each blow to his thighs she commanded the Devil to leave his soul.
"God, please stop," he cried.
He crumpled to the ground, his flesh stinging and burning from the whipping. He could think of nothing but the pain that consumed him. Miss Lila stood over him, called for Zac and brother Chris to come help him to his feet. Foolishly, he thought the assault was over. He stood between them as she began to whip him again.
With each strike of the belt he felt the presence of God get stronger and stronger. She let the belt fall to the floor and she sat on the floor, waiting as Zac and Chris let him sink to the ground. "There, there, John. My sweet John, come to me," she said.
John crawled to her, curling up in her arms. And she rocked him. He shook and sobbed with pain still racking his legs. They stayed that way for hours, or at least it seemed like it to him. John thanked her, his words coming out in stuttered sequences.
"I love you, John. I would do anything to save you. The Devil will never have you back."
John instinctively touched the back of his thigh. The skin tingled underneath. He knelt down beside the cot in the cell and bowed his head. "God, please let me help Deputy Dan see the value of his life. Give me the strength to forgive the Lancasters for their weaknesses. Bless Miss Lila and the others. Grant them the ability to continue their work in your name."
Dan was just coming down the hall to check on the boy. He licked something off his fingers then cursed as he noticed a grease spot on his uniform. He rubbed at it with his sticky fingers. "Ah, dammit."
"Put soap and water on it," John said.
"Your mother teach you that?"
"Miss Lila."
Dan pointed to the door of the cell. "You do realize the cell is unlocked. You can come and go as you please."
"Don't have any place to go."
"Your parents will be here soon enough."
There was no look of joy or even anger on his face, instead he watched Dan with the mild curiosity of a child.
"Are you excited to see them?"
John shrugged. "The Lancasters?"
"Yep, that'd be the ones I'm talking about."
He sighed heavily. "I'm prepared to forgive them."
Dan motioned for him to come join him in the break room. "Coffee?"
"Just water."
"That all you drink?"
John nodded. I tasted the sour wine they gave Jesus Christ our Lord."
Skeptically, Dan looked at the boy. "Well, if it's the same stuff they gave him then my guess is its out of date."
To his surprise, John smiled. "It was vinegar, Deputy Dan."
"Ah."
"It made me sick."
Dan poured coffee in to his cup, doctoring it with lots of sugar and powdered creamer. He gulped it and sighed happily. "You don't know what you're missing."
John took a mug out of the drainer and turned the cold tap on.
"We have bottled water, John."
"This is fine."
Dan went back to his desk, John followed.
"Tell me, Deputy Dan, did you ever go to church?"
"I was a regular choir boy. Growing up went to Sunday school, youth group, even Bible study when I was a teenager. By the way, it was in youth group that I got my first kiss. Wendy Hamilton, stunning girl with big blue eyes and long silky blond hair. Mmmm, mmmmm."
"Why'd you stop going?"
"Realized that praying is a lot like talking to an answering machine. Frankly, I think God hit skip every time he heard my voice."
Quickly, John shook his head. "No, he listens. He listens to us all. Maybe you haven't been listening to his answers."
Dan nodded. "Never have been too good at listening. Least that's what the wife says," he added.
"You're married?"
Dan looked at the silver framed picture on his desk. "She's currently on loan to another."
"I, I don't understand."
"We're separated."
"Sorry,"John said. "Did she have an affair?"
"She sure did," Dan said, doing his best to sound nonchalant. He looked away so the boy wouldn't see the hurt in his eyes.
"Thou shall not commit adultery. "
Dan sat his coffee down on the desk and picked up a stack of papers. "Guess she was absent the Sunday they went over that one."
| Author Notes | Feedback. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
It was after 10 in the morning when Tim Reardon got back to the Sheriff's station. He was red faced and jittery. Both Dan and John could see something had upset him. Tim was usually the calm one. It took a lot to get to him.
"What happened to you this morning? Go to bed with Bo Derek and rise this morning to find Bo Diddley?" Dan asked, chuckling as he lifted the coffee mug to his lips.
When Tim didn't acknowledge the joke, Dan placed his cup on the edge of the desk. "What's up, Tim?"
"Excuse us, John," Tim said, reaching to grab Dan's arm and usher him to the farthest corner of the station.
He waited until he saw John walking back to his cell before he started talking. "Got a call early this morning from a friend in Taylain. Said they'd found something interesting over there." He paused and looked past Dan before continuing. "They found a dead body where he and I go hunting."
"And this has to do with you how?" Dan asked, ready to make a Dick Cheney joke. One look at Tim and he knew it wasn't the right time. "Tim, you need to spit it out."
"I was talking to him about John. He interrupts me and says, 'sounds like that dead body we found the other day'."
"We found a living body. What are you leaving out?"
"The body was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. A small Bible was found nearby."
Dan frowned and started to walk away. "Let's go ask our young friend if he knows anything."
"I'm not done, Dan. There were parts of the body missing."
"Decomposition?"
"Surgically removed." Tim swallowed painfully and let his eyes drift down to his own hips.
"It was male. Castration?"
Tim grunted.
"How long did the coroner say the body had been dead?"
"Couple of weeks."
Dan rubbed the back of his neck. "So, we can assume they knew each other."
Tim nodded. "We can also assume they both had to deal with Miss Lila and her Old Testament punishments."
"Let's go talk to him. Don't mention anything about this. Let's see if he'll help us get a better picture of the delightful Miss Lila."
John sat up and closed his Bible when Tim and Dan appeared at his door.
"John, can you tell us a little bit more about Miss Lila?" Tim said.
John's eyebrows knitted together suspiciously. "What do you want to know about her?"
"Well, what's she like? Was she pretty? Did she have nice legs? Maybe she snorted when she laughed." Dan said.
"Her beauty came from within."
"But she was nice to you, right?"
"She loves me. She loves me more deeply than they ever did."
Dan thought about the comment John had made about drinking the sour wine. "Did she make you drink the vinegar? "
"To truly know what our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ went through, I had to experience it."
John looked down at his hands and tried to remember. Had she made him or had it been his own choice? In the beginning, he'd been forced to do many things against his will. But as time had gone on, he'd made his own choices. All willingly, all to prove to Miss Lila that he was committed to his new found faith.
"I don't remember," he whispered.
"But she let you drink it, knowing it would make you sick," Dan said.
John nodded. He didn't want to remember that part. The jet stream of vomit that had doubled him over. It had soiled his clothes and oozed up between his fingers as he had crawled through it.
He could still hear her soft voice as she had stood over him. "Finish the wine, John. Finish it and then pick up your cross."
With hands slick with his own vomit he lifted the heavy wooden cross and dragged it across the dirt to the hill. When he reached the top of the hill he let the heavy cross fall. His throat burned with thirst. Miss Lila offered him the vinegar again. He lay back on the ragged wood and stretched out his arms. The others tied the rope around his wrists, binding them to the crossbars. The rope cut into his ankles as they knotted it. They righted the cross and slivers of wood tore into his flesh as they dropped it into the hole that had been dug.
Miss Lila reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt. "He died for you, John." She threw it at his face. "Will you do the same for him?"
John felt the fear return at the memory of it. Was she going to kill him? Would she sacrifice him like she'd done with her own son?
"Will you take his place on the cross, John?" Miss Lila's gaze was unwavering as she crept up closer to him. Her eyes bore into his. "Answer me. Would you lay down your life for him, as he has done for you?"
Every movement caused him pain. Sobs wracked his body. "I, I can't. I don't want to die. I'm sorry," he cried. "Please, Miss Lila, forgive me. "
Miss Lila had turned away. She paused and turned back to look at him before leaving him there on the cross alone. "You failed. You're too weak. I had great plans for you, but you failed."
When John looked up at the deputies he saw the concern on their faces.
Dan stepped closer. "Are you alright, kid?"
John shrugged, looked away as he wiped the trail of tears that streaked his face. "Fine."
"Why are you crying, John? "
"Because, I made the wrong choice."
| Author Notes | Feedback. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
It was Dan who made the call to the Lancasters. Neither he nor Tim had bothered telling John that they were calling his parents. It occurred to them that John just might bolt out of there if he knew. It was still tough to read the kid. In any case, Dan reluctantly agreed to place the call. He'd done some investigating on his own. Checking the local missing children's files and then the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, he'd come to realize no report had been filed for John Damon Lancaster.
He tapped his ink pen on the chewed up looking blotter on the desk as the phone rang on the other end. For all he knew, this kid's parents had just accepted that their kid had run off to join a cult. Maybe not knowing where their child was or what he was doing was a fair trade off for peace and quiet. And did they have other children? Dan had never thought to ask John if he had other siblings.
But after speaking with Donna Lancaster, Dan knew that the Lancasters had not been living in peace.
"Is this about Damon?" she asked. There was more than a hint of excitement in her voice.
"Ma'am, is there any way you and your husband can come down to the Patterson Sheriff's office?"
"Please, is he all right?"
Something in her voice sounded so frail. It tugged on his heart. The regular guy in him wanted to blurt out that John was alive and okay, but the police officer in him kept his voice even and gave little information.
"I can send a car over to pick you up, if you'd like."
She sighed raggedly, trying not to loose control over the phone.
There was no time to shower. Blake had come running when Donna had run out into the yard almost falling face first into the lawn mower. He turned off the machine and caught her.
"What is it, Donna?"
"They called from the Sheriff's office? I know it's about Damon. I know it's about him."
Blake felt his stomach lurch. This couldn't be good. Damon could not be dead. The lingering thought of the decomposed body that had been discovered just across the county line taunted him. He'd purposely tossed the newspaper when he'd read the story. All they had said was a young white male. It couldn't be Damon.
He put his arm around Donna's shoulders and ushered her back into the house. "What exactly did they say?"
"For us to come to the Sheriff's station."
"If it was Damon, they would have brought him home. Maybe you forgot to pay a parking ticket or something."
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling chilled in the middle of her kitchen. "He can't be dead. I would feel it if he were. Remember the time he hit his head at the pool. All day I was out of sorts. I just knew something had happened. I felt like something was wrong. Then he comes in the door with his head wrapped up. "
Blake nodded. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was bad. God only knew how Donna would react to bad news. She'd probably blame him. Parents were always to blame. Either they did too much or not enough. They had always stood together when it came to Damon and the challenges that seemed to surround him. Since Damon had been deposited into Miss Lila Savoy's care, the Lancasters had drifted apart.
Blake shook his head involuntarily, trying to cast the dark thoughts out of his head. He needed to think about Donna. If something had happened to Damon, it would kill Donna. There was no doubt in his mind about that. Why hadn't that stupid cop told her anything? Heartless prick couldn't have cared any less for the torment he was putting them through.
After grabbing a clean shirt and splashing cold water on his face, Blake and Donna rushed out to their car and backed it out of the driveway. Blake looked over at his wife. The faint lines that fanned out from the corner of her eye seemed deeper, more pronounced. Had the last few weeks aged her that much?
He reached out, laying his hand on her knee. "It's going to be all right. You'll see, Donna." He forced a smile, knowing how hollow his statement sounded.
| Author Notes | I know it's short, but the next chapter has nothing to do with this part of the story. Feedback. Please and thank you. |
By GWHARGIS
"Mrs. Hardy, would you please send Damon Lancaster to the office." The loudspeaker crackled to life and managed to garble the words enough to make the history teacher put her hand to her ear. She waited a moment before turning to stare sympathetically at Damon.
"Go ahead and grab your knapsack. It's close enough to the end of the day."
Damon didn't wait to be told twice. Thank God, he thought. No more listening to the old bat tell us what a freaking genius Benjamin Franklin was.
"See ya," Damon said, smiling as he rushed to the door of the classroom.
She looked at him without surprise. It was always something. Damon Lancaster was a usual suspect. No matter what it was, his name was in the hat of those perceived as guilty. "Straight to the office," she said .
Damon slowed down long enough to peer down Monica Dunstan's low cut blouse. "See ya, Monica."
The girl self-consciously made a grab for her plunging neckline. "Creep."
"Take care of the girls for me."
Monica scowled as he winked.
"Straight to the office, Damon." Mrs. Hardy reminded him.
He nodded, grabbing for the door handle. "I heard you the first time."
The empty hallway used to be his oasis. No nosy teachers watching his every move. No jocks bumping him into the lockers as he tried to get from one room to the other. There were corners and vacant classrooms that provided sanctuaries. He could breathe in the openness of the empty corridor. Strange as it sounded, he felt less alone in the vacant hallway.
The thought of walking right past the office and heading out the front door passed through his mind as he turned the corner. He walked slow and deliberate, determined to follow orders at his own convenience. He could see Principal Hamby and the guidance counselor, Mrs. Hudson, standing next to the secretary's desk. Someone else was standing there. A woman, at least it was dressed like a woman. She towered over Mrs. Hudson, and as if suddenly aware he was watching them, she turned to glare at him through the glass.
She strode to the door and yanked it open effortlessly. "You must be Damon." She offered her hand but he merely stared at it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, letting her hand fall gracefully back to her side.
Damon tossed his black hair out of his eyes.
"I'm Lila Savoy." She met his blue eyes with a look that almost made him take a step back.
"What's up?"
"We are here to accompany you to my camp."
Damon laughed. "Um, no. Not going to any camp with you."
Miss Lila sighed and clasped her big hands together. "I was afraid you'd say that. I have some friends of mine who will help you get out to the van."
Two burly men stood up from the chairs in the lobby and walked closer.
Mr. Hamby cleared his throat nervously. "What camp, exactly, is this you are taking Damon to?"
Miss Lila looked up sharply. "My camp."
"You are out of your mind, Lady." Damon backed up, eyeing the door to see if he could run. The burly patrol were one step ahead of him. They blocked the door. This crazy woman was tangling with the wrong guy. Once his parents found out, this bitch would be hating life.
"Don't make this any harder on yourself. Just accompany me to the van and I'll explain everything."
"You are fucking crazy."
"Language!"
He summoned as much hate in his eyes as he could before he spat out his response. "Fuck you." He balled up his fist and drew back his arm. He turned to look at Principal Hamby. "Call my mom."
Miss Lila smiled, nodded her head slightly, then dug into her large leather shoulder bag. She swiftly handed the Principal a sheath of papers. She looked down at Damon as she released the papers. "Your parents are the reason I'm here, Damon." Not waiting for Mr. Hamby to finish checking out the paperwork, she handed one document to Damon.
It was all legal crap, full of twelve syllable words that made no sense to him. He scanned the paper until one section caught his eye.
JOHN DAMON LANCASTER, 17, IS HEREBY GIVEN INTO CUSTODY OF LILA. M. SAVOY, UNTIL UNDETERMINED LATER DATE. ALL DECISIONS INCLUDING MEDICAL, EDUCATIONAL AND LEGAL, ARE THE SOLE RESPONSIBILITY OF LILA M. SAVOY.
Damon flung the paper away. His parents had given him away.
"Call my parents," he yelled. He was losing it. He could feel his Fuck the world facade starting to crumble. He was scared right now. He would beg. Hell, he would promise them anything.
Mr. Hamby snatched the phone up, staring at the computer screen the secretary had pulled up with Damon's information on it. He looked just as freaked out as Damon.
"Mrs. Lancaster, this Burton Hamby, from Patterson High School. Yes, I'm fine, thank you. We have a bit of a situation here. There are some people here-," he said, stopping mid-sentence to listen. "Yes, Ma'am. I will inform him." Mr. Hamby, replaced the receiver and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He turned to look at the boy. "It seems Ms. Savoy has the legal right to take you."
Damon shook involuntarily. Someone had to help him. Every one had lost their damned minds. "No, I am not going with her." He swung his fists frantically. He didn't care who he hit. They were all against him now. One damned piece of paper signed by parents who were wiping their hands of him, and a bureaucrat who didn't have the balls to stop this. He shoved the secretary's desk and watched as the computer screen teetered before falling over.
Miss Savoy, dug into her purse again and pulled out a canvas wrap. "It didn't have to be like this. This is all because of you, Damon." She shook out the canvas and held up the straight jacket for him to see. "Is this how you want to walk out of here? Is this how you want your peers to see you?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you." His voice came out a low snarl, causing Mrs. Hudson to look away.
Miss Lila motioned for the two men to help her. "If you will," she said quietly.
It didn't take the two men long to restrain the 150 pound boy. Miss Savoy fastened the arms tightly. Her eyes bore into his in a test of wills. "You hate me now, but God has a plan for you."
"Fuck you, bitch." He said, then spit at her.
She turned without bothering to wipe the spittle off of her cheek. "Gentlemen, escort Mr. Lancaster to the van." She reached down to gather the papers together and return them to the leather purse. She finished loading her bag then looked at Mr. Hamby. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Principal Hamby."
"Miss Savoy, what sort of camp are you taking him to?"
"It is a camp to save him."
"Save his life?" Hamby said, his voice full of doubt.
"Our lives are trivial, Mr. Hamby. I am going to save his immortal soul."
She turned away from the man and walked purposefully out of the office.
| Author Notes | Feed back. Please and thank you. |
|
You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author! |
| © Copyright 2015 GWHARGIS All rights reserved. GWHARGIS has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement