Been Busy... Explain Next
On our drive back to my house was the usually 'tell anyone and they won't believe you and I'll beat you up everyday' riff. I told Ringleader that I understood and that I wouldn't tell anyone. Ringleader dropped me off and I went inside. My mother was waiting for me in an ambush, “What's been going on!?” she cried. PANIC! FEAR! I asked my mother what she meant, and she told me that Swimmer had called her this morning early to tell her that some things were going on in that house that I had no business being a part of and that she should probably get me home as soon as possible.
I reassured her that it was nothing that was a big deal and that I wasn't going to go into it because I didn't want to get anyone else in trouble but that I was alright and she didn't need to worry. I went to my room because I told my mother we had been up until 3:00AM and that I was tired. I took a quick shower first and she noticed the new bruise when I came out of the bathroom and headed for my room. She was right on me. I assured her that it was just from an elbow brought back swiftly to mock-punch someone else. I just happened to be standing too close and got sucker-hit. I was fine. She looked worried but said, “Okay. If you say so,” with that mother look of 'you're not telling me the truth but I can't call you on it because I have no proof.'
I sneaked off to the kitchen and got the corn starch and reapplied in secret, in my bedroom. I pushed the extra white powder that hit the floor into the carpet. I kept the corn starch box in my room until the rest of the family had left for church and then put it back. I went to bed, sleeping on my right side, as that was the only way I was going to be comfortable as I could be given, the bum rib and bruises and the corn starch on the back of my thighs and on my ass.
That was Spring Break. I was raped 58 times and had sex 5 times or you can look at it as I was raped 63 times in a period of 10 days. Really it was 8 days because 2 of those days no one raped me at all. An average of about 8 rapes a day. Really it is 7 7/8 times per day but for all intents and purposes it was 8. Spring Break always brings up feelings of anxiety in me. I know I'm safe and that nothing will happen to me but I'm forever looking over my shoulder for one of them to come to the door and say that they're having a 'reunion and I was invited, so get in the car.' Logically, I know I'm safe. Emotionally I'm still that 14 year old boy who was hurt repeatedly and tortured.
I was free from being under Ringleader's thumb. I felt like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had almost a whole day to recover before school started the next day and I had to face Ringleader, again. Swimmer had done me a great service by getting me out of there early. I just wish it had been sooner rather than later. I'm sure it saved me from being raped 6 more times. I would have been up to about 70 over a 10 say stretch. Thank God for small miracles or a Divine Grace, depending on how you look at it.
I was mortally tired of the whole arrangement but wanted to belong. Maybe I could get Swimmer to take me under his wing instead of Ringleader's. After all mom knew 'something bad' had been going on over Spring Break. My mother probably thought it was something like drinking or smoking pot and she doesn't know to this day what really happened. This is the first time the whole story has been told.
I spent a good portion of the day sleeping. I didn't roll out of bed until probably close to 2:00-2:30 PM. I ate a healthy sized snack, because I was famished, having a ravaged body trying to heal itself from multiple injuries, and I knew it would be 6:30 PM before I got to eat again. I went back to my room to watch some TV. Being that it was a Sunday there was nothing really worth watching so I turned on some cartoons and left it to be noise in the background while I hurriedly did homework that I should have done well before now, during my Spring Break.
The phone rang, and being that I was a teenage was, as always magically the one to the phone first. Parents stop answering the phone when they have a teenager. The call is never for them unless it's a telemarketer so let the teen tells the telemarketer that they're not interested or just hang up on them. Easy on the parent and the call is for the teenager anyway 9 times out of 10. I had a phone with a long line leading from the phone into the wall and I always took the phone with me anywhere I went in my room so it would be close by.
It was Band Friend. He hadn't heard from me all Spring Break and demanded to know why I wasn't spending as much time with them as I should, in a joking manner. I apologized and went on about how I had spent the weekend at Ringleader's and the pool and beach and tournaments and all such things. I didn't dare talk about the rape or sex. I wasn't out and Swimmer wasn't out so I couldn't well go and talk about that, but I wanted to. I couldn't talk about the rape. My friends would abandon me, or worse, look at me with pity for the rest of eternity. Then there would be the, true, rumors that I was really gay and that I had enticed them and that I liked being used by a lot of guys at once. I would be beat up not only as a faggot but as a slut.
So the conversation was kept to the normal superficial friend stuff. What had he done for Spring Break. Where did he go? Where had other friends gone? What had they done? Who broke up with whom over the course of the week off? Who had hooked-up with whom over the course of the week? Speculating on if it would last and for how long. Who finally got some!? Well good for him! I wondered if it would ever happen again or was he a bad lay. No one's good on their first time out. I mean, the guy cums in less than 30 seconds and it's painful for the girl. Then there's the whole pregnancy scare thing. It's not like our school passed out condoms or had them in a big bowl in the counselor's office.
That went on for about 30 minutes and we ran out of stuff to say so we said we'd see each other in first period band tomorrow and then said goodbye. It was a pleasant conversation. It was a normal conversation and one where I knew I wasn't going to be raped at the end of it or raped by the person on the other end of the phone. It was just your normal teenage conversation and I was beginning to miss that more and more. The attention from the older boys was nice but we didn't have much in common. No common friends outside the group of them. They were worried about if they would be accepted to a certain college and would they get a scholarship? These were things that were years away for me. I just didn't have that common thread of things to worry about. All except for that one thing. That thing which name we dare not speak about to anyone. The big pink elephant in the room.
I reassured her that it was nothing that was a big deal and that I wasn't going to go into it because I didn't want to get anyone else in trouble but that I was alright and she didn't need to worry. I went to my room because I told my mother we had been up until 3:00AM and that I was tired. I took a quick shower first and she noticed the new bruise when I came out of the bathroom and headed for my room. She was right on me. I assured her that it was just from an elbow brought back swiftly to mock-punch someone else. I just happened to be standing too close and got sucker-hit. I was fine. She looked worried but said, “Okay. If you say so,” with that mother look of 'you're not telling me the truth but I can't call you on it because I have no proof.'
I sneaked off to the kitchen and got the corn starch and reapplied in secret, in my bedroom. I pushed the extra white powder that hit the floor into the carpet. I kept the corn starch box in my room until the rest of the family had left for church and then put it back. I went to bed, sleeping on my right side, as that was the only way I was going to be comfortable as I could be given, the bum rib and bruises and the corn starch on the back of my thighs and on my ass.
That was Spring Break. I was raped 58 times and had sex 5 times or you can look at it as I was raped 63 times in a period of 10 days. Really it was 8 days because 2 of those days no one raped me at all. An average of about 8 rapes a day. Really it is 7 7/8 times per day but for all intents and purposes it was 8. Spring Break always brings up feelings of anxiety in me. I know I'm safe and that nothing will happen to me but I'm forever looking over my shoulder for one of them to come to the door and say that they're having a 'reunion and I was invited, so get in the car.' Logically, I know I'm safe. Emotionally I'm still that 14 year old boy who was hurt repeatedly and tortured.
I was free from being under Ringleader's thumb. I felt like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had almost a whole day to recover before school started the next day and I had to face Ringleader, again. Swimmer had done me a great service by getting me out of there early. I just wish it had been sooner rather than later. I'm sure it saved me from being raped 6 more times. I would have been up to about 70 over a 10 say stretch. Thank God for small miracles or a Divine Grace, depending on how you look at it.
I was mortally tired of the whole arrangement but wanted to belong. Maybe I could get Swimmer to take me under his wing instead of Ringleader's. After all mom knew 'something bad' had been going on over Spring Break. My mother probably thought it was something like drinking or smoking pot and she doesn't know to this day what really happened. This is the first time the whole story has been told.
I spent a good portion of the day sleeping. I didn't roll out of bed until probably close to 2:00-2:30 PM. I ate a healthy sized snack, because I was famished, having a ravaged body trying to heal itself from multiple injuries, and I knew it would be 6:30 PM before I got to eat again. I went back to my room to watch some TV. Being that it was a Sunday there was nothing really worth watching so I turned on some cartoons and left it to be noise in the background while I hurriedly did homework that I should have done well before now, during my Spring Break.
The phone rang, and being that I was a teenage was, as always magically the one to the phone first. Parents stop answering the phone when they have a teenager. The call is never for them unless it's a telemarketer so let the teen tells the telemarketer that they're not interested or just hang up on them. Easy on the parent and the call is for the teenager anyway 9 times out of 10. I had a phone with a long line leading from the phone into the wall and I always took the phone with me anywhere I went in my room so it would be close by.
It was Band Friend. He hadn't heard from me all Spring Break and demanded to know why I wasn't spending as much time with them as I should, in a joking manner. I apologized and went on about how I had spent the weekend at Ringleader's and the pool and beach and tournaments and all such things. I didn't dare talk about the rape or sex. I wasn't out and Swimmer wasn't out so I couldn't well go and talk about that, but I wanted to. I couldn't talk about the rape. My friends would abandon me, or worse, look at me with pity for the rest of eternity. Then there would be the, true, rumors that I was really gay and that I had enticed them and that I liked being used by a lot of guys at once. I would be beat up not only as a faggot but as a slut.
So the conversation was kept to the normal superficial friend stuff. What had he done for Spring Break. Where did he go? Where had other friends gone? What had they done? Who broke up with whom over the course of the week off? Who had hooked-up with whom over the course of the week? Speculating on if it would last and for how long. Who finally got some!? Well good for him! I wondered if it would ever happen again or was he a bad lay. No one's good on their first time out. I mean, the guy cums in less than 30 seconds and it's painful for the girl. Then there's the whole pregnancy scare thing. It's not like our school passed out condoms or had them in a big bowl in the counselor's office.
That went on for about 30 minutes and we ran out of stuff to say so we said we'd see each other in first period band tomorrow and then said goodbye. It was a pleasant conversation. It was a normal conversation and one where I knew I wasn't going to be raped at the end of it or raped by the person on the other end of the phone. It was just your normal teenage conversation and I was beginning to miss that more and more. The attention from the older boys was nice but we didn't have much in common. No common friends outside the group of them. They were worried about if they would be accepted to a certain college and would they get a scholarship? These were things that were years away for me. I just didn't have that common thread of things to worry about. All except for that one thing. That thing which name we dare not speak about to anyone. The big pink elephant in the room.