Chapter 17
Turn-Table
Nothing would ever be the same again; I had already lost my best friend. It didn't help much knowing my true enemy would be coming home soon. Even with Arthur home, Mom and Dad had not forgiven him for what he had done, and no amount of punishment was going to change it. Arthur's days were spent doing chores or locked inside his room like a prisoner. Only allowed out to eat, pee, and do chores. He was no longer welcome during family outings when the family went up to the canyon for some family time. Instead, he would be chained like an animal to a tree out of sight when it came to our family skinny dipping. Mom and Dad did try to include him at first, hoping with Shawn out of the way that they could reverse the damage that had been done.
Yet, no matter how hard they tried, Arthur would get aggressive and throw into uncontrollable fits. Sometimes he would sit there in front of us or worse masturbate at the table. It didn't matter how many times Mom and Dad punished him he would do it everywhere when he thought we weren't looking and laugh uncontrollably when we caught him. The worst was when he went to a sacrament meeting one Sunday and did it right there in the chapel during sacrament services. Having Dad escort, him home and never again was he allowed to come back.
Instead, he was locked inside his room. It would have been better if he would have stayed in the mental institution. He struggled to comprehend the nature of the problem and its underlying reasons. Despite receiving counseling, his progress remained stagnant. He persistently shifted blame onto me and my younger siblings, attempting to convince Mom and Dad that we were involved in his actions. Dad would interject, reminding him of the surveillance cameras that revealed my absence from the basement, except when accompanied by Dad for exercise.
Dad hadn't made good on his promises regarding the statements that we had given to my caseworker, and I had as well as my two younger brothers Jared and Jason hoped that day would never come. In truth, I had become their older brother, Mom and Dad didn't need to tell me about the responsibility that had fallen onto my shoulders, considering Shane was not here or the fact that Shawn had given up that right a long time ago because he was their abuser.
Yet, they did hold me up to a higher standard, always reminding me that my two brothers looked up to me, and it was up to me to set an example. In some ways, I was proud of the fact that they thought of me as their son, and I truly believed that they were my brothers as much as Aaron was. We did everything together whether if it was chores or sports like swimming and gymnastics. Yet nothing could have prepared us for what came next.
It all started the week before Shawn was due to come home, about that same time Dad received the transcripts from the court, and unknown to us he was the one who requested them to go over them with a fine-tooth comb before Shawn came home. Not even Mom was aware of it when Dad brought it up during the family home evening.
Stating he was concerned regarding our statements to the caseworker and why the Judge felt he and Mom had gone too far when it came to punishments and wanted us to tell him everything we had said. Little did I know that Dad had already put Jared into the Turn-table and had already confessed everything he had said. I had first thought Jared had been sick the following weekend and was down in his room resting, for the only time I saw him was at mealtime. Yet when I had found out that it was a lie to cover up what Dad had done it was too late.
It was the very next morning when I had woken strapped inside the very device that Shane had told me about. I screamed as I struggled against the bonds that held me firmly to my seat. Dad quickly removed my blindfold and turned on the light above me. A single 60-watt bulb hung above me. I remembered it being one of the very lightbulbs I had sold for my Eagle Services project. The irony, I thought. Dad opened the door, glaring at me, his face and eyes cold but changed to warm and sorrowful. He at first apologized to me for what he was going to do to me. Telling me it was the only way he believed that he could get the truth about what had taken place during this meeting with my caseworker.
He was kind, but rough as he told me how the device works. Telling me over and over how sorry he was, how I and my brothers had left him no choice and he wanted the truth and all the truth before his son Shawn came home. My word was not good enough even though I had never lied to him. He didn't want to find out that we had later, that it would jeopardize his family; that he had enough to worry about with Shawn and Arthur. I tried to struggle against my bonds, but it was no use. It took everything I had in me not to cause an episode. I growled angrily, I tried telling him that this wasn't necessary and begged him not to do it.
Being naked was the least of my concerns. It would have been if he had done this to me three years ago. Or the fact I wasn't comfortable living or have been taught to live here in their carefree lifestyle … but now it was being used as a convenience to torture me. It angered me that he had already put my brother Jared in here. I had no doubt that if Jason was a little older, he would have put him in here as well, but Jared was twelve and Jason was about to reach his eighth birthday.
Shane had said that Dad would never put anyone in here if it was his last resort when it came to finding the truth he wanted to hear. Never have a son or foster kid under the age of twelve. I told Dad I was close to having an episode; he didn't seem to care. Simply said he was prepared for that. Showing me additional tranquilizers and telling me if that happened, I would be in there longer.
He was rough but gentle, something I would never expect a father would do or be when he was about to torture his own son. Well, except my father, knowing he would enjoy it. He would wipe a tear every so often as he carefully hooked up the wires with some sort of clear like jelly and covered the wires with cut gauze strips and duct tape. He would promise that even though it would be quite painful, he would never truly harm me. I wanted to laugh, wondering if he really understood that he was harming me by torture, but instead, I chose to remain calm, fighting the demons in my mind that were close to overtaking me.
The fact that the room was small and smelled worse than old sweaty shoes reminded me of the church basement. Several times, I would beg him to release me. Telling him if wants to know what I told her I would do so willingly, making this unnecessary. It was like he didn't hear me. He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek saying he was sorry and how much he and Mom truly loved me and told me if I lied the pain would be increased until I had told him everything true-fully. He reminded me he had already heard and read each of our statements and would know if we were lying.
He told me the room was soundproof like my old room and that I could scream as loud as I wanted so that no one would hear me inside the box. Like Jared, everyone would be told I was home… sick in bed. Nobody will know or believe anything regarding this. Nor would they be able to prove that he had done this to me or my brothers, and would encourage that we to say nothing or we would be returned to this device every time he had found out that we had said anything. Then he said. "Let us begin," placing the last wires on my chest.
I watched as he filled the bucket above me with cold water that had been specially plumbed for this device and dropped two chunks of dry ice from a large ice chest nearby, noticing the shower head that had seen better days with large holes in it. On the right side was a knob with numbers on it that lit up the second Dad flipped it on. He didn't ask me a question, instead he turned the knob two numbers. That ranged from one to sixty, like small ticks of a stopwatch. At first, I didn't feel anything other than being zapped or the low buzz tickling my skin. It was when he cranked it up to ten that I screamed as my legs, arms, and chest felt the strong electrical charge. Causing my body to spasm so hard I peed all over myself and Dad. He acted as he expected and continued turning up the dial to fifteen clicks.
When he stopped at twenty clicks, I was in a lather and breathing hard and he had yet to ask me a single question. He opened my eyes, flashing a pin light waiting for my breathing to return to a calm state. When he was satisfied, I was still me he placed the tranquilizers on top of the small table where the supplies he had used to hook up the wires. He smiled, patting my cheeks telling me he was proud of me, proud of me for not slipping into an episode. He cranked it up to twenty-five clicks, and that's where I lost it. I was back inside the church boiler room, feeling my father beating the crap out of me as my mother used the cattle prod against my rib cage.
Unlike before, when I had learned that my parents could no longer harm me during an episode, and simply became a bystander watching a movie, the same movie I had seen hundreds of times over. This time I could feel the pain so horrific I was wondering if this wasn't a dream, but actually happening all over again. My screams echoed and died in the room as I felt every volt as my mother kept doing it repeatedly. I kept begging them to stop, but the beatings kept coming. I felt something freezing cold against my skin, so cold I thought I had been dropped into a freezing lake during wintertime.
I couldn't breathe as my father wrapped his hands around my neck, forcing my head underwater in a large metal tub, while my mother held the rest of me under, laughing as I fought for air. I could feel my life slipping through my fingers. Right before I was about to give up, the bulb above me in the boiler room went completely out. I was cold and surrounded by darkness. I panicked screaming, terrified that I couldn't see; I felt trapped. I felt numb all over my body. It seemed like hours before the light came back on. When it did, the door opened, and Dad was standing before me. He had stripped down to his skin, and he smelled of fresh soap and shampoo. He smiled, placing a soft chair where he could see me the same chair he usually sits in when he was reading his newspaper in the kitchen or watching me ride up and down the field from the large kitchen window.
I wasn't concerned about seeing Dad naked, for in truth I really never saw the nakedness as people would if they hadn't been raised in our carefree lifestyle. To any of us at home, it wasn't a big deal on a hot day finding even Mom choosing to go topless like us boys or sunbathing in the yard like my sisters used to do to get that perfect tan. Dad or any of us simply found the idea comfortable and relaxing. Even my closest friends and their parents would simply pass it off as nothing.
It didn't matter what home we were in; it was more common than not to find them and us living this carefree lifestyle. No, being naked or seeing nakedness was something my mind didn't see any more than comfort and bring us closer to each other and God on a spiritual level as family and friends. I was good with that. Yet today, it bothered me because today it wasn't for comfort or love … it was for practicality and torture.
He asked Jason to set down the pail of water and the bar of soap near my feet. Placing another chair near him and me, and asked him to take a seat. I could see the scared look on his face, even more so as Dad slowly and carefully hooked him up to the same wires as me. Like me, he took his time and stripped the rest of his clothing, placing a bucket under the seat and strapping him down with soft leather straps to keep him from moving. He explained exactly what he was going to do and why. Jason cried as Dad hugged him and kissed him, telling him that he loved him, but he needed to know the truth.
Then he asked me one simple question, warning me that I now know the pain I would feel if I lied. Told me I had been in there for five hours already. Four of the five hours I have wasted having to tranquilize me for an episode. I hadn't realized that it had been that long, thinking it had been minutes not hours. The question was, have I sexually abused Shane or my brothers in any way? I answered no and found the question revolting. He cranked up the dial twenty-five clicks, asking me again as I screamed in so much pain, I thought I would die. When it stopped as I was able to control my breathing. I said, "No. I would never even consider doing such a thing."
I could see he didn't believe me watching him crank it up to thirty, repeating the same question. I screamed as if the pain was even worse, but I answered it said. "No sir, I would never do that to my brothers."
He sighed and asked Jason if I had lied. I heard him scream. "No, Dad, he did nothing like that to me or Jared." The lights shone on the box cranked up to ten. Like me, Jason was in a lather. Dad seemed satisfied with the answer, telling us both that Shane and Jared had all said the same thing. Instead of dousing us each with ice-cold water, he bathed us both in warm water. Carefully washed us like he had done many times before when he had bathed us in the tub. Either because we were sick or he just wanted to show he loved us as much as Mom does, telling us when we tell the truth we are rewarded.
Jason and I were sobbing, begging Dad to let us go. Dad shook his head, telling us when we have answered and told him everything, then he will. I felt that Shane had lied to me and that Dad would never hook me or Jason up to this cruel device. It bothered me that Dad could be so cruel and gentle as he tortured us to get his answers. I was thankful that Aaron wasn't here; knowing now that if he was cruel enough to do the same to Jason at his age, that if Aaron was here, he would do the same to him.
When Dad was done with cleaning us up, he looked at the clock on the wall. Told us if we answered the next question true-fully he would let Mom feed us, but if we didn't, we would go without.
My mind was screaming inside, knowing that Mom would allow this to happen, even more, so that her two of her young sons would. It tore me up inside, feeling that the trust we had and the love I thought we had meant nothing. Dad didn't ask his question, taking a seat in his chair as he straddled a box with two knobs with an outlet for three in his lap. Each wire was attached individually with a small separation, leaving a gap just enough to indicate which knob was separate from the other.
Dad leaned back, looking at each of us then realized he had forgotten something. Opening a small drawer that holds several size cups, the kind we boys would use for sports. Accept these had been altered enough to allow us to pee into our provided toilets. Dad told us. "He had forgotten that last time being covered in piss," gently placing the cup between our legs, telling us if we have to pee just do so, and it won't get on the floor. Not that it would matter much. Considering he had placed Jason's chair inside a wooden floor box that had been tiled with a drain. With a hose that he had hooked to flow the water or bodily fluids down the same drain as mine.
Right away I felt I was watching my own brother sitting in front of me. I could only feel what Shane had felt watching his own brother endure the same torture as him. I tried to be strong for Jason as he sat there facing me. I wanted to tell him it was going to be alright. Yet I knew it would never be alright as I felt the voltage go through my body. I screamed, and he screamed at me.
I opened my eyes and saw Aaron next to me, screaming in pain as my parents started in on him. Then my mother turned back to me, beating me and using the cattle prod on both of us. The pain never seemed to stop until the darkness trapped me inside my mind. I screamed again as the cold water rushed down my skin. Dad slapped me across the face asking me over and over where I was; when I answered correctly, he stopped hitting me; asking me if I had ever been in the basement anytime he or Shane weren't here.
I listened as and watched as he swung the shower head over Jason repeating the same question. Adding if Jared or Shane had ever had sexually abused him. His screams filled the room; Mom yelled at the top of the stairs, begging him not to hurt her sons. Dad screaming back "Karen, shut the fuckup! You know I would never hurt them on purpose!"
My mind reeled wondering if Dad had gone insane, and what did he think he was doing to us down here. He waited for either of us to answer the question. We both said "No!" Having Dad cranked it up to five more clicks almost half compared to Jason's fifteen and mine up to thirty-five.
When we answered no again, he stopped the pain. He slowly waited for us to calm down our breathing and once again slowly bathed us with warm water, well warmer than the water he showered us with, yet this time he slowly and carefully removed the wires and said. "We will continue this in the morning after you have rested."
Telling us that he was just trying to get the truth out of us. Warning both of us that if this was a punishment he would leave us tied up all night, and only be given sips of water every few hours. I knew he meant every word.
Mom had always set the boundaries when it came to eating dinner at the table, like all her boys wearing clean shirts at supper, and we all ate together. The fact that Dad, me, and Jason did not have a stitch on, or the fact we had been tortured for long hours, said today wasn't an exception. By the time we had reached the top of the stairs, Mom had placed a towel around each of our waists while she searched for us for any marks.
She growled angrily at Dad when she found three burns where my skin had blistered from the high current. Quickly rubbing some ointment that smelled like mint; Dad telling her that I would be good as new in a few days. I knew when he said it that it was going to be a long few day.
Dad quickly slipped on a shirt and a pair of boxers that she had placed on his seat. She told us just to put on a shirt for dinner and she would bathe us after supper, to make sure we were both alright. The way she said it, I knew she didn't approve of Dad's methods of using his turntable, but neither did she stop him from doing it. I also knew if my father was here, he would have gone too far, not that it was bad enough already. I also knew my father would be quite angry if he knew I would share a bath with my brother Jason.
Yet, he didn't know that I had shared numerous baths with both Jared and Jason. Mostly, it was because Mom didn't have Jody or Kerry here to help her anymore, and was just easier for me to climb in with either of my brothers. And it saved on the water bill and electric bill as well. Mom believed in pinching pennies, beside it's not that I have never shared a bath with any of my brothers. The fact that I was sixteen didn't mean I was too old to do either.
Unlike Dad, she never believed for one second that I would do anything to harm my two brothers physically or sexually. I wasn't a pedophile like Shawn and some of his friends, like me. She was unsure how many of Shawn's or Danny's friends were. Shawn or the boys that had raped Jody had not told them who they were.
It creeps us out knowing that these same boys were passing the sacrament in church. It wasn't for the fact that Bishop Sakes was now in charge of our ward. Mom and Dad would have changed wards or gone as far as quitting the LDS faith altogether, but with Shane in the mission field that wasn't going to happen.