Chapter 32
A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing.
Part 1
The moment the door closed, Mr. Rothwell's forceful grip on the back of my neck intensified, leaving behind a painful mark that would soon turn into a bruise. Simultaneously, Mrs. Rothwell skillfully positioned herself to obstruct anyone's direct line of sight. To give her husband time enough to do what was necessary whispering, "don't mark him." Keeping a pleasant face, and waved to someone she knew as they were going inside the chapel.
Mr. Rothwell whispered in not in a friendly manner as a low growl escaped him. "I know, not in public," knelled down as if he was straightening my tie, almost choking me, said confirming my fears. "We will talk about this later, boy, and it won't be pleasant." Standing and almost dragging me along as if I wasn't moving fast enough. Grumbling how stupid a decision it was; stating it was easier to convince the last Bishop what needed to be done when it comes to committing sins before God.
The rest of the family was inside waiting, taking the entire bench in the middle section. Mr. Rothwell motioned to Arthur to sit on the other side of him as I sat in between his wife and him. Putting on a smile that everything was fine as everyone came by to shake hands while he introduced me by my name correctly. When asked about the other boy, they said they had returned him to live with his parents. Giving the impression we were one big happy family.
Shawn and Shane went to their expected post. Shane quickly sat at the sacrament table with the priest, considering there were very few, and it was his turn to bless the sacrament. Shawn sat with the teachers and the deacons to help pass the sacrament. I was curious why Arthur wasn't permitted to bless the sacrament as well, considering he was at least a teacher like me. I didn't dare ask. Right now, I had my own worries to worry about. Providing I lived long enough considering what transpired with the Bishop.
I felt I at least had one person on my side and was wondering if the Bishop was in tuned with the spirit world. Something told me he was, but I wish he wouldn't have said anything about me and Jeff. Unless he was giving Mrs. and Mr. Rothwell a warning that they were being watched by a higher power. Saying God is watching, and he is not happy.
I kept to myself and did my best to pay attention to each of the speakers. In some ways, I was thanking God for sending Jeff to me, that and it wasn't fast Sunday. Fast Sunday to me was the worst day of the entire month. Having to fast the entire meal or sometimes two depending on the time your ward met. Then having to sit through testimony after testimony where they say over and over the same thing. How they believe in God and how the Book of Mormon is true and thankful for this and thankful for that. Sometimes it was the same people each month and their kids.
It gets to be so overbearing; that I wanted to bang my head against the wall so I wouldn't hear them. I have never in my life seen so many brainwashed kids and parents. I am sorry, but it is true. Not everyone has a happy family. Were their parents beat them physically, mentally, and sometimes sexually? Not everyone experiences such a perfect life where they are loved and feel safe at night.
I am sorry if this is you, but if you had read anything of my life and took the rose-colored glasses off, and really understood the people like me living these atrocities. You understand why we feel excluded and why we become angry when we are left out. As if it was ok in the first place for them to do it and keep on doing it. All I am asking is that you consider it, nothing more, nothing less.
Don't make it worse by apologizing over and over for having us experience it. It gets old real fast. Sometimes all we want is for someone to listen to us and not prejudge us, but actually, listen; sometimes having a shoulder to cry on as the nightmares of our past still seem so real; that we are living it repeatedly. It has been nearly over thirty-five years and I am still reliving the nightmares so often I am afraid to sleep at night. So many times I have tried to kill myself, just so the nightmares would stop. But I find writing and talking about them does help. I am worried about what happens when I have nothing else to say, or there will be nobody to left to listen.
Struggling to make the talks engaging, I handpicked the most interesting parts as I listened, a difficult feat since the majority were as exciting as watching paint dry. Knowing I would have to present it with what I had learned. I was never great at public speaking; even though I came in second place for my speech on How to Become an American when I was living with the Frys, but it had been several years.
My grandmother proudly showcases the trophy I won in her living room, which is a testament to her pride for me. My parents didn't even hesitate to get rid of my school pictures or things that I had won over the years. Whether it was by throwing them away, burning them, or cutting them up into shreds, they eliminated any trace of me or my brother Aaron. Despite my grandmother paying for them, they wanted nothing to do with those pictures or with us. The only pictures that mattered to them were the ones of Susan and Becky, prominently displayed on the family room walls.
It used to be when I lived with the Steeds and the Fry's. That we would spend an hour in sacrament meeting, then go home and come back two hours later for Sunday school and primary or priesthood. But now, because of the rotation schedule, we spend three straight hours attending all three meetings; sometimes backward; having Primary and Sunday school first, then sacrament meeting last.
Unfortunately, they still do it. Personally, I was glad about the change. It seemed we would spend the whole day in church. Giving us no time to play than having to stop, eat and return for two more hours and eat again an hour later, then the day was gone. I cannot say that I was disappointed when they changed to the three-hour block, and I'm sure others were just as glad.
To think for one second, I could join the other kids as they went to Sunday school and priesthood. Think again. In all the meetings, Mr. Rothwell was always by my side. I considered Arthur was lucky as he followed either Shane or Shawn as I watched him follow them head bowed and as if he was on a tight leash. I could clearly see that he had been beaten and broken. But I didn't know his story at the time or how they treated him. Considering I have only worked with him onetime in the garden and never saw him until mealtime or family prayers. We hadn't spoken one word to each other and would be many days before I would. Even now, I shudder when I think about what was taking place down in the basement.
But something was off or different, as I watched his face and eyes as if something was wrong with him. If I wasn't mistaken, I would assume he had a mild cognitive impairment. Again, I had my own worries at the moment, but I was indeed curious. I was hoping Jody would share some light on it, but I did not know when I would speak to her next. So far, I had been pretty isolated, and that too bothered me. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that something worse was going on.
I still shudder as I think about it. Hoping I can write about it without reliving the nightmares. I have already as it is can't sleep as I write this worst chapter of my life, but I need to get it out in the open and come face to face with the terror one last time. My mind is so focused on it at this very moment of time; that I am afraid that if I don't write it and set it aside. I can never write it. Though Jeff is not here in person, his constant encouragement resonates in my mind, motivating me to persevere. A gentle reminder echoed in my mind, urging me to embrace the truth: it's okay to share my story with the world and with myself. There is someone out there who needs to hear that someone has survived the nightmare, inspiring them to believe they can as well.
So far, I have had kept my end of the bargain about being silent and not causing attention to myself. I remained a shy and timid little rabbit. Soon everyone left me to my silence as I moved from one meeting to the next: I stood when I was told; I sat when and where I was told. I refrained from speaking unless given permission or asked a question. Not once did I let on that something was wrong, and not once did he strike me inside the church house? He didn't drag me down the hall, and I tried very hard not to flinch when he put his arm around me; when he introduced me to someone when they came by to say hello shaking our hands.
To everyone else, it looked like we were father and son, but inside I was shaking with terror. It took impressive control not to pee my pants from fear, as he leaned over to whisper in my ear to relax. That so far I was doing fine and that it would get easier as time went by. I knew it was a lie the second he said it. To him and everyone else, this was nothing but a show: I knew the monster inside of him; I knew the darkness that awaited me. I knew the second that we were home, that the sleeping giant would awake. Knowing that there was nowhere to hide, I realized no one would come to my rescue. I had questioned many times during those years on how many times I had faced death and only to elude him or shake his hand. To say I am afraid of death even now after having experienced these hardships. I tell you I would go willingly, as he has become my only friend.
The hour soon approached as the meeting ended. I knew I was in for it; I had hoped after three hours and doing as I was told that he might have forgotten. You might have heard the term. "If wishes were fishes, then everyone would have one." Personally, I hate fish. I hate how they smell, and I hate how they taste. I gag every time I see someone eating them. Regardless of how they cooked it, I couldn't get past the smell. To this day I don't eat fish, but I do like shrimp, crab, and lobster.
I struggled to divert my gaze from the ticking clock, its rhythmic sound filling the air. The looming punishment was a constant presence in my mind, despite my best efforts to push it aside. Jeff had been absent for the better part of the day and worry gnawed at me. I feared that my reckless disregard for the rules had placed him in jeopardy. It may seem absurd to think that ghosts or guardian angels have rules, but they do. Even though no handbook had been provided to me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was to blame for coaxing him into actions beyond his designated role of observer and solace-giver.
Like I have said earlier, we didn't live far from the church house; it was at least a ten-minute drive, if that. I dreaded every single moment, as everyone remained quiet as I sat there between them. Watching the houses go by, and slowly pulled up into the driveway, and waited for the beating I was sure to get. Yet nothing happened as Mr. Rothwell turned off the engine and sat there for a good ten minutes. Nobody made a move to get out of the car. He sighed heavily turned his head towards me and said. "It was rough, but you did good. Will talk after you change your clothes about what happened today. But for now, you did good."
I didn't know I was holding my breath before I remembered to breathe after he said it. I followed everyone inside as he led me back to my room, telling me to change into some play clothes. And his wife would be in to change the bandages on my back. But in the meantime, I should work on my report. I said yes sir and waited for him to lock the door. But he left it open instead, which surprised me. My instincts screamed at me to flee, to escape while there was still a sliver of opportunity, yet I hesitated. Instead, I obediently followed instructions. With meticulous care, I hung my garments on the hook, aligning my shoes beside my worn-out sneakers. As I gingerly placed my shirt and socks into the hamper, a sharp pang coursed through me at the sight of bloodstains seeping through the fabric. I knew that if he were to lash out at me today or even tomorrow, the wounds would easily reopen, unleashing fresh agony. I doubted he would grant me reprieve, but I refused to invite further torment. The weight of my troubles was already burdensome enough.
It was nearly an hour as I sat there on the bed with the door open afraid to venture out. Before Mrs. Rothwell came in with the first aid kit and a humility vest, not the one I was working on, but a completed one. She calmly laid it on the end of the bed, saying I could use this one until I had completed mine, but today was Sunday. As a family, we have already humbled ourselves before God and received cleansing after taking the sacrament. I had also repented all my sins to the Bishop, and through him, I experienced cleansing before God. I thought she was a cracked and religious nut before considering 99.9% of those sins were lies, but I didn't push it. Again, I had enough to worry about.
She sat my work aside and told me after she had cleaned my wounds that her husband would wait for me in the living room. In case I had run. I nodded I understood, and I had nowhere to go. In my mind, doubts consumed me as I struggled to navigate my way back. The unfamiliar surroundings overwhelmed my senses, leaving me disoriented. While I may have known Santaquin like the back of my hand, even parts of Provo and Orem, this place was a labyrinth without a map, which I unfortunately didn't possess. Before venturing towards safer areas in search of the Downings, I added a map to my list of things I would need before leaving this house of nightmares.
My first goal was to embark on the arduous journey to Arizona, where Reggie lived, and then locate my Ma and Pa Downing. Going back home to face my parents held no appeal, but I was determined to find a way to inform my grandmother that I was safe. The absence of my brother Aaron weighed heavily on my heart, but I felt powerless to help him, especially when I couldn't even help myself in this moment.
When she finished, she asked me to check if the humility vest fit, so she could wash it in the morning. Once I had done what I was told, she took it off and handed me a dark red button-down shirt almost the color of blood. Saying it would be easier to clean than the white shirt I had worn earlier, and Shane refused to wear it. It was big almost too big for me, but after I tucked it in she seemed satisfied; asking if I wouldn't mind helping her in the kitchen. I nodded as I watched her pick up my dirty clothes from the closet, but I said I could carry them if she wanted me to. After all, for my plan to work I needed to win them over with kindness and get them to trust me.
She said thank you and I said. "No problem it's the least I could do." I followed her down the hallway as she stopped at each room knocking; telling me to stay by the door while she went to each of the rooms. I discovered that my room was in the far corner, while the master bedroom, which she and her husband used, was located across the hall from mine. The master bathroom had a shower instead of a tub and opened into a three-corner entryway that led out to the backdoor, down to the basement, and into the dining room. The main bedrooms were on the first floor. I hadn't known which room was who's until today; Jared and Jason's rooms were first across the hall from the main bathroom, Kerry's and Jody's were side by side.
My arms were getting tired and heavy, but I didn't let on that they were as I followed her down to the laundry room; which was between the kitchen and the family room. Where everyone was except for Arthur; I looked out the window and didn't see him, and figured he was downstairs in his room. Something bothered me about it, but some secrets were better left alone and I wasn't about to borrow more trouble.
She opened the door instructed me to set them in the large hamper and closed the door. I was on my way back to the living room. She stopped me, placing her hand on my shoulder; then changed her mind, letting me go. I quickly went over to the sink and washed my hands and face; drying them on my pants not wanting to dirty a clean towel. She scowled at me, handing me the towel. I said I was sorry, saying I didn't want to put my dirt on a clean towel. She smiled at me, saying that next time please do so instead of my pants. I said "yes ma'am" and made my way back to the living room as she watched me as if I was about to run away. But I wanted to; I really did, rather than face the sleeping giant.
Still no sign of Jeff. I don't know why it bothered me so; but it did. After all, he said he would always be there for me when I need him the most. Being safe was a distant reality for me, that I was about to be punished for something I didn't do concerned me. When I entered the living room, Mr. Rothwell was there reading the paper. I stood silently waiting in the middle of the room as he read his newspaper.
I refrained from speaking or sitting without permission, my shoulders irritated by the shirt and bandages. The air was suffocatingly hot, the kind of heat that felt like hell on earth. I couldn't stop thinking about getting rid of my shirt and changing into boxers or shorts, as I longed for the comforting sensation of soft fabric or the freedom of being completely nude. And would have if I could have gotten away with it.
Like everyone else, he didn't wear shoes, except for house slippers. Everyone else either went barefoot in the house or wore socks. They didn't allow Arthur and me either, thinking it would prevent us from running off the property. I wanted to laugh inside as I thought about me running around town in only my boxers, even though it was night and very few if any saw me. It didn't stop me from running away, but that was one secret I would not divulge, certainly not here.
I stood for a good fifteen minutes before he set the paper down and pointed to the other brown leather chair that matched the rest of the furniture in the room; so he could see me across the room and still be close to me if he wanted to strike me. I waited for him to call me mule boy, but called me Earick and told me calmly to take a seat. I knew he did it on purpose to see if he could goad me; knowing very well he could pronounce it correctly. I didn't let it bother me and took a seat as directed.
He sighed, folding the paper nearly rolling it in his hands as if he planned to strike me with it. Then noticed it and quietly set it on the floor; placing his hands on the arms of the chair drumming his fingers; as he sat looking outside the window as if he was gathering his thoughts before he returned his eyes to me saying. "Son, you have put me in quite the pickle today. I don't know whether to beat you, strangle you, are worse." Letting that settle in. "Yet you had done exactly what we told you to do. You didn't falter or give the feeling you were being untruthful. I doubt you could have done it any better. Heck, I have known boys to buckle under the stress, but you didn't." He looked away from me as if he was deciding my fate.
Giving a heavy sigh, "I may not like the decision, but neither can I go against one of Gods appointed, if he says you are clean you are clean and if I, we find fault with his decisions then I go against the almighty God himself; and believe me, son, when I say that I am and my family are man of God."
Pausing as he leans forward and lifts my chin as I looked deep into his eyes and feel his hot breath on my face. "But if you give me cause I will strike you down before God and his Almighty Angels. You son will feel my wrath; that I will promise you. So, consider yourself warned. Don't lie to me, do what I tell you to do and when, and things will go much easier for you." Sitting back in his chair with his right leg over his left leg, placing his hands over the arm of the chair, "do I have your word that you will not lie and do your best to obey when asked?"
I said. "Yes, Sir Mr. Rothwell." Then realized I was supposed to say Dad and blurted. "Yes Dad, I completely understand." Watching him nod his head, and returned to the window. I almost got up but remained seated not trusting my good fortune. He told me I could help my mother in the kitchen, but first, he wanted to know about what the Bishop said about Jeff.
My heart sank. If I told the truth, he would think I'd lied to him. I winced as he waited, drumming his fingers as he warned me. There was nothing I could do but tell him. I asked; "what did you want to know?" Hoping I could skim the truth a bit by being vague in my answers. I knew I was going to get struck down if I lied, but wondered if it was still a lie anymore; since I had confessed to it already. I waited as he looked at me as if I was the one that struck him.
His mouth tightened then relaxed said calmly. "You told me you hadn't seen him in a long time. But somehow I think you were lying to me, but then again it's hard to believe that some boy like you; or anyone saying they see dead people must be touched in the head. But either the Bishop was funning with you, saying he had a visitation from a spiritual being, which I guess could happen since he is the Bishop and could communicate with the Almighty. Anything is possible, considering God chose him. It is not uncommon even for the Prophet of God to see Angels and God himself, but a simple boy and a sinful boy seeing a spiritual being gives me pause on what to believe. Yes, sir son you have put me in quite a pickle. So I am curious to hear this tale. So it would be best to start from the beginning."
I wanted to run because I couldn't breathe, as if the air in the room didn't seem to be enough as he waited for me to begin my tale. I was wondering what parts to leave out. Could I skip saying I haven't seen Jeff in a long time? Even though I didn't see Jeff, I knew he had returned, or he was close by, as my eyes quickly glanced around the room, not seeing him. So I began from the time he died, wincing feeling the blame for letting it happen. And end it by saying. "I haven't seen him since I moved in with the Downings, but he always knows when I am in trouble, either by seeing him or feeling him nearby." Leaving out how Ma could see him; and how he was still here, just not where I can see him.
He seemed to be satisfied, skeptic yet a little worried. Well, he should be. I waited for more questions. Mrs. Rothwell saved me by coming in saying it's time for me and Arthur to start dinner if he would please go down and get him. I had a feeling she never went down there unless she had to or she would have done it herself. In some ways, I was curious about why. He nodded he would and released me, saying he couldn't wait to see how I present my first oral report tonight.