Chapter 30-1
Dark Secrets
Part 2
It was the fourth day and the day before I would see their Bishop. We had finished my morning prayers for guidance and forgiveness. Also, the day I had learned another dark secret. Shane and Dad ordered me to strip in front of them. Oh, how I hated calling him that, and for a very long time it left a bad taste in my mouth. They would humiliate me as his Dad ordered Shane to search me for any weapons, such as knives or drugs, or anything that didn't belong on a person's body.
Dad would instruct him as he walked around me as I stood there naked to the world. I was only glad the doors were closed, preventing Jody; the only one that had seemed kind to me, and sometimes Kerry when she was in the mood, which was rare during those first few days. In fact, I couldn't believe that kindness existed inside of them, but for now, all I saw and felt was a cruelty that matched or sometimes made my parent's cruelty look like it was love in comparison.
Dad handed Shane a baton, or cudgel, as they use in prisons. He would then show how to use it during a strip search. Saying "Mule Boy, legs spread, or I'll shove this up your ass." Then place the baton between my legs, screaming "wider." Then, taking his hands and roughly slid them up and down my legs and feet. Spending extra time between my crotch area to get a rise out of me. Or see if I would turn hard by the mere touch, then laughing at how small and girlish I looked with a firm and tight ass.
He laughed, taking the baton under my chin and forcing me to lift my head. Seeing the tears streaming down my cheeks with his thumb, he would trace my tears, pushing hard against my face. Calling me a worthless crybaby, slapping me hard on the butt; commenting again on how firm and soft it was. That the prison boys would love to get a hold of it. Knowing how much they like a nice piece of ass as fine and smooth as this one.
Dad would once more proceed handing the baton over to Shane, having him repeat the process. Then Dad would order me against the wall with my legs spread and repeat running his hands up and down my legs slowly and down my back and chest, squeezing my nipples hard before stepping back and then said. "Mule Boy touch the ground." Hitting me across the back with the baton while he bent me over; he would then put on gloves for a cavity search again, taking his time exploring and whistle say how nice and tight I was. Stating the boys in prison would surely like a piece of this very fine ass once again. Then proceed to check my hair.
It was Shane's turn, handing him a pair of gloves, but he refused, which earned him a slap across the face. Dad forced him on his knees and put Shane's hands on my body without gloves, ordering him to do the search until he got it right, and then order me to stand in the middle of the room, saying. "Mule Boy touch the sky." He roughly examined my chest and under my arms, forcing my arms into the air. With a firm grip, he squeezed my nipples, repeatedly commenting on their tautness, his offensive humming filling the room as he critically assessed my appearance.
I noticed Mr. Rothwell stealing a quick glance at my adolescent crotch, his eyes pausing for a moment, before he smirked at me. The uncertain look on his face made it difficult to determine if embarrassment or ulterior motives motivated his grin. The thoughts lingered in my mind, but I left them be, at least for now. Then I remembered that Mrs. Rothwell wore the same silly grin when she bathed me that same morning, though it could have meant something entirely different. Unaware of the mysteries concealed behind closed doors, I questioned whether I should delve into the unknown, or if it was all just figments of my imagination.
(How wrong I was…. Sorry, you will have to wait and see what I learned in the other chapters of these books of my life.)
Shane repeated the process without lingering or squeezing my nipples, which was a slight relief, but the embarrassment remained unbearable. Dad's response was brief, yet it left a lasting impact - a single phrase of praise accompanied by a rundown of the day's responsibilities.
I hadn't finished the humility vest, so I had to go without. I received a pair of boxers and shorts that had seen better days, along with a small rope for a belt to keep my pants up. We had to go barefoot before, as they didn't allow shoes for both me and Arthur. Again, I wasn't about to say anything about how I was already custom to not wearing any, and I knew it would not stop me. They placed iron shackles around my ankles and connected them to a chain to prevent me from running away before assigning me to work in the blistering sun.
I couldn't help but smile as I thought of my Downing home and the fields where a lone horse grazed, grateful that I was shirtless. The image of my brothers Robert, Will, Sam, and Ted riding completely naked on our horse in the Downing fields flooded my mind, bringing a silly, wonderful grin to my face. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks that those days were a thing of the past, and I couldn't help but cry as the feeling of loss overwhelmed me.
Shane, my task master, commanded authority with a whip that looked like it belonged on a movie set. Along with a braided whip, known as a cattail for its long leather strands with hard knots, occasionally known to be adorned with nails or metal burs to inflict greater harm on the flesh. Luckily, they weren't. As he watched, his father's whip hung at his side, a constant reminder of his presence. He then hooked my right ankle to a long chain, which was in turn connected to a metal ring attached to a massive cement block buried deep underground.
Shane gave me a bucket and inside the bucket was a small planting six-inch shovel and rake, in order to help pull weeds along the rows of the garden. Arthur was working in the row next to where I was. I could see clearly the scars on his legs and arms. I didn't have to wonder where he got them as the whip came down on his back. The sound reminded me of my father's belt, as he would beat me with it. Arthur only winced without making a sound. His hands moved more quickly and deftly, pulling the weeds and placing them in his bucket and taking the rake carefully around the plants.
My orders were to watch as Shane pointed to me and said. "Mule Boys dig" as the whip came down across my shoulders I screamed, giving another one on the other side. We worked the garden for three hours under the scorching sun until they finally gave us water that tasted stale out of the horse trough. I wanted to spit it out, but my mouth and throat were so parched I gagged it down. Jeff watched the horror taking place. Sometimes I could feel as if he was crying, then I felt teardrops falling on the back of my hands, leaving clean streaks.
Several times our eyes met, but neither of us said anything. I watched Shane and his brother Shawn toss a football back and forth. If he saw me looking, he would stop and yell at us to keep our sinful eyes on the ground or he would take us to the task. We worked in the garden for three more hours before they made us stop. Apparently, Arthur no longer needed the shackles, as they only put them on me before they led us back into the house.
Shane led Arthur and me back into the house and shoved me inside my room after undoing my shackles, then closed the door. I could hear the door lock and turned to find a bar of soap and pail of water and towel that had seen better days on top of the dresser. Next to the dresser, they placed my clothes on the bed alongside my Bible, which had a bookmark marking the page where I had stopped reading the day before. As I was washing up, Jody came in with a small First Aid Kit and some lotion. She wasn't cruel like the others as she calmly closed the door, and carefully administered the lotion and cleaned my cuts on my shoulders and back. She never called me "Mule Boy" like the others, instead called me Eric. Not Earick like her father.
She showed kindness by turning her head, allowing me to dress semi-privately. As I quickly put on the clothes that she had set out for me, she said. "Things would get easier when I learned to stop fighting and they know you are broken." Patted the floor next to her and placed the book in my hands and calmly asked me to read. Her voice was sweet and her manner showed no signs of cruelty. Jeff said she had a good heart compared to the rest of them. He too was on the fence about her mother and Shane. Yet sensed darkness and yet some good, but either side tried to control her. She was also with child, so it was hard to tell if the light was coming from the child or her. I was told to say nothing about it because there would be a question about how I knew when nobody told me. And I agreed. I had my own secrets to hide.
After the reading, she told me she didn't feel it necessary to pray unless I wanted to. I shook my head no, and she took my hands softly and said someday soon she was going to find a way to leave this house and go far, far away. She didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask. We talked for a while as she listened to my unbelievable story. She promised she would keep what I said to herself. Stating everyone needed secrets.
Then it was time for her to go. Hearing the lock on the door click and open as she quickly leaned against the wall yelled. "Mule Boy stand." With a quick wink as she waited for her father to enter the room with his son Shawn at his side. I stood there as I watched Shawn set down the bone needle and my humility vest on the floor near my feet, and helped her sister carry out my dirty clothes and washing items; leaving the room while Dad closed the door.
I took my place on the floor, but he struck me hard, saying he did not give me permission to sit. I stood there until Dad had given permission and waited for the next order. "Mule boy sit." But as soon as I sat on the floor he smiled, giving me the order "Mule boy stand." He repeated the order for nearly thirty minutes before he set me to my task, kicking me as I sat and began sewing my vest. The social worker had given them a copy of my file, which Dad would read.
Every so often he would pause and ask me a question about things I felt he had no business knowing. Like, how often did I masturbate? To him, it wasn't a question if I did even though I stated I didn't. Calling me a liar, he would strike me. He even asked if I liked to watch boys my age shower in the locker room or if watched my sisters bathe. He asked those questions to humiliate me and provoke a reaction from me. I had the desire to hit him; I felt appalled and humiliated.
If it wasn't for Jeff, sitting near me calming me the best he could, but it wasn't enough. Instead, I just lost it. I took a swing at him after he degraded my Ma and Pa saying the most disgusting things that no one should ever say. He was strong as he quickly pinned me to the floor on my stomach. Twisting my arms behind my back as he lay on top of me; leaning his head down close to my face, he spits letting his saliva run down my cheeks; then laughed, watching me struggle and scream as he punched me repeatedly, growling in my ear how puny and weak I was.
Telling me how ashamed people were of me; the Steeds didn't want a sniveling baby so worthless and sinful that they left me behind like the garbage I am. I was too much for the Downings to handle with my lies and sins, so they felt unsuited to raise me. Saying my Ma was a tramp and harlot, and my Pa was a two-bit loser; never worked a day in his life. They had so many sins and were members of the devil's house of lies that no church would ever take them in. He kept at it before letting me up, daring me to take another swing at him. I was far from being broken and he knew it.
I believed I had already endured child abuse from my parents and a few foster homes. I had concluded that I wasn't even close; for there was pure evil here, and it manifested self behind these doors. I was living in a nightmare that would never end. But I had barely investigated. In fact, I couldn't believe that in time I would love them almost as much as the Downings, but for now, I hated everything about them. Yet the world needs to know that there are people out there that think they can get away with such cruelty when hidden behind closed doors.