Chapter 9

Being caught by The Boss in his office fucking a whore that I thought was The Boss really brings me back to an awkward/horrible moment from my early teenage years. Obviously from my previous flashback you know I was a fucked up kid. I killed my father after my mother killed herself and my brother was killed-in-action overseas. This led me in many different directions emotionally, mentally and physically.

I survived on my own from the age of twelve to fourteen, barely. One night, I think it was July or August but that's not relevant. I finally had grown tired of being trapped in my house with no one to talk to, no television, no nutritious food, nothing. I went out very late at night; I walked to the next town, about two and a half miles. I had never been to this town before, in fact, the name escapes my mental grasp right now.

Anyways, I walked through this town, discreetly of course, and would just explore each yard and peer into each houses windows. There was no rhyme or reason to it but it was very exhilarating to me. As I would explore, of course some cars would drive by with their headlights lighting up everything in the area so I would just hit the deck and lie very still. They always drove by, except for one. I was spotted by some old lady driving by.

She pulled to the side of the road and ran to me. She obviously thought I was injured or dead. When she shook me, I turned and pretended as if I were dazed and confused. She asked me where I lived, she asked me what I was doing out so late. She helped me to my feet and took me to her car. I hadn't spoken a word yet, not even a sound came out of my little frail body.

Once in her car, she buckled my seat belt and stopped talking other than telling me she was taking me to her house to get cleaned up and to rest. I could only imagine what was in this woman's home. Meanwhile, I was checking out all the gadgets and buttons and displays inside of this fancy car. It was like a spaceship but with wheels. She wore nice closes and spoke very proper, I was excited but I had to contain myself because I was supposed to be exhausted and fragile.

We pull up in front of a lavishly outfitted two story home in the rich part of town…ok; I called every part the rich part of town because of the shit shack I grew up in. It was very late at night now and the house seemed to glow, like a safe haven for my mistreated bones.

We enter the arch style doorway and into the foyer. The floor was lined with gold trimming and the tile itself was Chinese hand crafted marble as I was told.

"Do you live here all by yourself Ma'am?" I asked curiously.

She smiled and chuckled back, "Honey, I wish it was just me here, I have guards 24/7 surrounding the house and I am constantly over run with visitors."

Now I was really curious, "You have guards, for what, are you famous or something?"

"Sweetie I am the President's right hand woman. He asks me for advice and I give it to him. I am the presidential advisor on military affairs and foreign policy." I looked around and noticed all the plagues and certificates she had displayed, proving her story correct.

I stood there looking up at her, holding her hand and I could just envision this life but with Judith by my side instead of some brunette dyed hair fifty year old. But I was here now and Judith was gone, I want to make the most of this time.

One of the guards approached from my right, he was dressed very professionally in a black suit, white button up and black tie. "Come with me little one."

I took his hand as he took me downstairs into; I guess it was a basement area that had been converted into a living space. It wasn't nearly as eloquent as the part of the house I had seen but it was still nice than my current living conditions.

I showered for the first time in about eight months, I was shaved by one of the guards, it was very relaxing and very pleasurable, until bed time came around. The guards locked me into this room, there were no windows, and there were no phones of any sort. Only a television which constantly looped a slide show of pictures of the madam of the house in various political poses and slowly increased in severity into pornographic pictures of her performing sexual acts on herself and other small children.

My mind, what was left of it, was bouncing inside of my skull like a fucking pinball. I realize now that I am more of a prisoner or toy for this sexual deviant. I am trapped in the lowest room of her home and there are armed guards everywhere.

At least this time, I won't be molested by a man; I guess that's a positive right? My mind is so fucked up anyways with what I had experienced in my short time span of life that a little more abuse couldn't hurt me.

I was standing in the middle of this room, talking myself down. My brain was fighting my body and my body was losing, badly. I focus on my breathing, trying to level my heart rate. I focus on the happy times I had with my mother. One time she took me to the store and let me pick one thing, anything one thing I wanted in the store. I picked out a small medallion with a rose on it, it reminded me of the love and kindness I felt for my mother. It was on my person all the time.

The lights dim in the room, the television dims too but remains on flashing pictures of lewd acts conducted on other small children much like me. I walk over to the bed, snuggle myself in the fetal position under the covers and close my eyes, very tightly. I am one of those children that believed if I closed my eyes, regardless of the sounds or actions taking place around me, I would be protected by the darkness my eyelids shielded.

The door, the only entrance or exit, opens with a whiff of fresh air. I don't budge; I hold my breath to make sure my body doesn't show any signs of movement. I was pretending to be asleep by pretending to be dead basically.

Never the less, someone enters the room, their feet crushing the carpet below and producing the slightest of sounds. As this person approaches, the sound becomes my warning system and my neck hairs stand on end like antennas. Right now, I'm on edge so bad that I unless the oxygen I was holding in my lungs and blast carbon dioxide all over the room.

"Ah, thank goodness, you're awake." It was the important woman that brought me here, that took all those pictures with those young boys.

"Yes ma'am, but I'm really sleepy." I replied with a stretching of my arms and big realistic fake yawn, in the hopes of buying myself some time.

She was dressed in a see through night gown, black color. She was a very sweet woman but she was old, unattractive and obviously there was something seriously wrong with her mentally.

"Don't be afraid, don't fear me. I'm gentle, loving, caring. I'm no monster, I promise." She explained herself in such a light, soothing voice that I could almost believe her but why have me watch all those pictures on the television?

I was doing everything I could to throw her mind in a different direction, "What's your name? Mines Gregg."

"Gregory, I'll call you Gregory. My name is Susan. What else do you want to know?" Again, soothing words but this time she placed her wrinkly hand on my thigh and protruded her chest against her see through gown.

To a little boy, just hitting puberty, any breast could and should cause an excited reaction but she reminded me of my mother, when she was nude in front of me and killed herself. I felt sick to my stomach. I made that very clear as I threw up all over her bare thighs and gown.

Instead of storming off angrily, she accepted the fact that I threw up and just wrote it off as nervousness. This bitch was clinically insane!

She pulled the covers down right after she slipped off her night gown. I began to cry because seeing her standing in front of me nude, it bothered me. From the neck down this lady was identical to my mother. All I was waiting for now was her to pull a gun up to her head and take a quick bullet to the brain, I've seen it before, I could handle it now.

Instead, she only raised her hand to let her hair down, some sort of tactic to try to seduce me, I assume.

I didn't have any options, some of the children in the pictures were tied down and some were gagged, I didn't want that for myself. Escape was impossible at this point, one was in, one way out. There were guards all around the grounds, I didn't stand a chance.

She molested me, much in the way my father did. There is a myth out there that men cannot control whether they get an erection or not but I can confirm in this situation I was as flaccid as a dead body before rigamortis sets in.

This proceeded every night, in the same manner except eventually the pictures stopped and I was allowed to watch adult pornography. No children, no animals, just sex, rough sex. I would sit and become aroused by the pornography and I would masturbate to it so when the night time came, I would definitely be able to stay flaccid and while she molested me, I could reflect on these films in my mind, that at least helped me not vomit every time.

Night and night, came and went, with the same activities occurring. One exception was made. She began to leave my room door ajar and unguarded. Her theory had to be something along the lines of comfort and trust. You show me I can roam and do as I please and I will eventually gain some sort of trust, maybe even love for her.

That theory didn't work how it was intended. I roamed the house and very subtly removed unnoticeable objects from different areas. A screw loose on a chair, a rubber band the maid missed, anything I could possibly fashion into a weapon or to aide me in my escape.

The days and nights passed, during the day I would gather all the minor objects I could and during the night I would be molested and fondled by a sick maniacal woman.

Finally and not coincidentally on my last night in the home of Ms. Susan, I struck. She came in the room, same as usual, she removed her gown, same as usual and got in the bed with me. Only this time when she turned her head for one second, I jammed a sewing needle I found in an otherwise empty drawer into her left eyeball. I pushed it in so far that it was flush with her actual eyeball.

I grabbed her gown very quickly and shoved as much of it as I could into her mouth so that she couldn't call out to the guards. I used a belt she had given me to strap both of her hands to the head board, not an easy task at all.

Now I could proceed with her torture. Maybe this experience will keep her from harming anymore children in the future but mostly this was therapy for me. I took the screw from the chair in the dining room and I slowly walked it up her lower leg and then her thigh, up her stomach and around her neck.

I picked a soft spot right under her bottom rib and I slow twisted the screw into her skin. It finally caught and began to burrow its way through her leather flesh . Once it was about flush I would take it out without twisting it, leaving a nice fleshy bloody lump.

I did this about six or seven more times until she eventually stopped try to scream under her gag. The screw penetrated her legs, upper arms and abdomen area. Once I had grown tired of this, I grabbed the rubber band from under the mattress. I wrapped it around only one ankle in hopes that it would cut off the blood flow and leave her with an amputation or a debilitating injury of some sort.

Now it was time for my escape.

I ran into the main area, the main doorway to my left and the stair well directly in front of me. There wasn't a guard in sight, I sprinted to the front door as I was pulling my pants up.

The door opened with ease, too much ease.

There was a guard on the other side entering the home.

"What are you doing little boy?" He yelled.

I put on my best panic face and told him, "Ms. Susan is sick, I was trying to find someone; she's lying on the floor clutching her chest!"

All the guards responded to the room as I slid under the radar and out of the front door. Before they even left her side to come chase me down I had escaped and found refuge in a roadside ditch, where I stayed for five or six hours.

Once the light of day hit my face, I crawled my way from the ditch and headed towards the next town. Only this time it was totally different for me.

Alright, back to reality. I'm still in this bathroom. I was literally washing my dick in the sink, scrubbing it. I wasn't a fan of prostitutes; they carry disease and stink that lingers forever. I had never even been to a strip club because of how it made me feel about these women. They were some ones daughter, some ones mother, it was too weird. You couldn't go get a job at McDonald's like everyone else? Why do you have to dance nude for dollar bills, especially if you didn't look good.

I digress, after completely scrubbing my dick and balls raw with hand soap and warm water, I splash some water on my face and some in my hair. I wanted to be presentable for my second first impression with The Boss.

I stood and stared in the mirror, I stared into it as if it had answers for me, as if it could guide me in the right direction, as if it could prove there was a God, even though I KNEW there wasn't. No "God" would let someone have a life like mine, not even a hint of a life like mine was.

I gazed into my own eyes looking for a soul or even a human being that wasn't damaged. As I fixated on my eyes, I realized that life is what it is. I didn't accept the life I had been given, but there was nothing I could do about it. You can't change the past, you can only affect the future.

My hair was a fucking mess. I ran my fingers through it, parting it off center on the left side and I pushed the rest of it behind my ears to at least try to look slightly professional.

I did my best to fix my shirt but it was downright filthy from my dance with the flame. I gave up on my appearance very quickly and I refocused on the mirror and my eyes.

I KNOW there is something there, something I'm missing, an answer that will explain everything to me. Suddenly, a lump appears in my throat as my right hand methodically rubs the rose medallion in my pocket.

I burst into tears, I cried and cried for at least a solid ten minutes. I missed my mother, I didn't need to see her do what she did and take what she took from Andrew. She took care of me the best she could but it just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to keep me from becoming a fucked up human being on a fucked up godless earth.

Now I'm here, kicked to the curb by my dream job. I always wanted to be a cop, even if it was ticketing people, I wanted to make a difference in society and try to protect as many people as I could so they wouldn't have to grow up as I did.

What the hell am I doing here, why did I get picked to come here? What qualified me to even be a part of whatever this shit was?

My mind quickly over powers my body as I begin to suffer a massive panic attack. My breathing was practically non-existent, my heartbeat was so quick I couldn't even tell it was beating, it just felt like a wad of pressure trying to burst from my chest like the alien did to Sigourney Weaver in the "Alien".

Mills returns to the bathroom and sees me practically dying in front of him. He walks to me, no concern on his face, no compassion either. He leans down right beside my ear and whispers, "Don't let your mind control you, you control you mind." That was it, he turned and exited the bathroom.

There was no cackling, no demeaning words spoken that I could here. The prank and that saying, don't let your mind control you, you control you mind, really made me feel safe, protected, part of a team now. I could tell Mills wasn't just a muscle bound moron. He had psychological skills; the other guys probably did too.

I picked myself up off the floor, leveled my heart rate out with a breathing technique I was taught years ago. I was now ready to face The Boss and begin my new assignment, whatever it was.