Deception

Chapter 31

Deception

 

I was then escorted to the bathroom while Dad stood against the door watching me do my business and making sure I cleaned my self up afterwards. Before he walked me back to my room and locking the door once more; I was frightened more than any boy my age could be, as I fell against my pillow and cried and Jeff comforted me. I begged him to find Ma and Pa so they could free me from this nightmare. But life is cruel and cold, I would beg him over and over, but he wouldn’t leave my side. Saying if they found me they would be just sent away and I would be punished for it. I knew he was right, but it hurt knowing they couldn’t help me. I also knew that if I left now that another child would take my place, even worse my brother Aaron.

I also knew I could never forgive myself if that ever happened. My only hope was their Bishop, somebody had to listen; somebody had to know what was really going on here. I couldn’t believe that I was alone in the fight against child abuse. I needed friends and I had to find them so the nightmares would never happen to some other kid that didn’t deserve them. I had to be strong, I had to learn to be broken and but still fight. I needed proof. I needed hard proof, and right now I had none except for few bruises which could be easily explained away. Jeff said he would do his best in helping me expose their dark secrets. So we put our plan in motion.

The first thing I had to learn was to appear broken, by getting them to trust me and when their guard was down then strike hard and fast. I knew it was going to be hard, but I would start with their Bishop, then somehow provide enough proof by the time my social worker came to check on me. So I laid there and waited to watch the clock on the dresser. The faint ticks seemed to soothe me and I knew if the pattern held, I would be summand for dinner; at six o’clock. And if the routine held I would be returned until family prayer at nine o’clock. Two hours later I would be given a bathroom break my last one for the night. It didn’t take long to learn the daily routine and like clockwork the door opened.

I was told since I had worked hard for my dinner I would be given a bigger portion, but it could be easily be taken away just as easily. It didn’t seem any bigger except Arthur I was given something nasty to drink and some pills in a little measuring cup that tasted an even worse than the drink itself. Arthur didn’t hesitate and quickly swallowed them. I tried to swallow them but ended out spitting them out. Earning me a slap from Dad as he stood up from the table by grabbing my hair, placing his fingers into my mouth and forced them down my throat.

Nobody said a word as they watched as I was dragged to the floor from my seat as he dumped the food on my plate onto the floor. Forcing me to eat it like an animal as he held my head down close to the floor and my hands behind my back, when I was done he took me by my arm and dragged me back to my room and taking the long leather whip-like coiled rope with loose strands like strings tied with knots down each braded strand. That same Shane had used on me and Arthur in the garden, now hung next to my door. Mr. Rothwell threw me hard against the bed. Slamming the door closed and ordered me to stand as he ripped open the back of my shirt with his bare hands and threw me against the wall, began whipping me.

I screamed with each stroke, I could feel my skin blistering and the warm blood trickle down my back. I lost track of time to when he had stopped and had left the room leaving me kneeling screaming begging him to stop.  I sat there crying with each rasp of my breath pleading no more, falling on my stomach as I laid there on the floor; it was hours before Mrs. Rothwell came in with cool towels and lotion. Telling me I should learn to obey without being told.

She even used my name, but it wasn’t sweet like Jody’s and neither was her touch as she cleaned the wounds as I shudder from each touch. I was left there lying on the floor all night long until almost two in the morning. When Jody helped me undress for bed, it was too painful to wear a shirt as I laid there crying from the pain until I fell into fit full sleep. Dreaming of my father as his face turned into Mr. Rothwell. That’s when the night terrors increased and gained momentum and from that point on the boiler-room and the Rothwell’s became my worst nightmare, the monster became real.

For once I was grateful for still being alive after such a beating. It reminded me of the beating I had gotten from my parents before I jumped out the window. Yet I was saddened too because there was no one to save me either as I thought of the Downing’s taken me into their home. Oh, how I missed them. I miss being in Ma’s arms as she comforted me and nursed me back to health. I prayed to God that they would find me and take me away from here. But like now, God had always been silent. Even Jeff had left me, as I looked around the room and trying to feel his presence; but all I could feel was the dark coldness of the room.

Mrs. Rothwell came and got me when it was nearly five thirty. She was late according to the daily routine, as she quietly led me to the bathroom giving me time to do my business as the water ran for my bath. Asking me if I was finished before opening the door; she wasn’t like her husband letting me have some privacy. Leaving the door open just a crack only opening it to turn off the water and returned to her post outside the bathroom door. Checking on me from time to time, yet I still wasn’t allowed to bathe on my own. Today she was gentle, well mostly avoiding scrubbing my back with the coarse brush. Using a soft washcloth as she dabbed my wounds clean, being careful not to remove the soft scabs; saying sorry every time I jerked back because of the pain.

When she was done she allowed me to dress in clean clothes throwing the ruined shirt in the wastebasket tsking about what waste of good money it was. I was soon led to back to my room finding Arthur scrubbing the blood out of the carpet and watched him strip and make my bed with clean sheets and blankets. His eyes seemed to say he was sorry having experienced it himself as he quickly returned to his task. As I waited to stand for her to give the next order, she told me to sit using my name as she rubbed disinfect and lotion on my back. And had me kneel on the floor for my morning prayers, giving me cue’s what I should say if I was a small child that had never prayed before, as I repeated back the same words.

She didn’t want me dirtying another shirt, saying it’s easier on the laundry if I didn’t wear one considering it was Sunday a day of rest. Stating no tasks would be done except for meal preparation which I and Arthur will help with. Saying that was her understanding that I have some training, I said: “yes, ma’am.” She smiled when I said it. As she looked into my eyes, it was a brief moment as if she was sizing me up. She told me breakfast would be an hour or so handing me my scriptures. Saying she would be back when she was done giving Arthur’s his bath. I nodded and watched her closes the door hearing the door lock. I didn’t dare skim the pages even though I had read them many times before. I in no means had them memorized and it had been a long while since I had picked them up.

The Downing never forced me to pray and never required me to read them even though I was raised LDS most my entire life. It was my choice and no one else’s. They had asked if I would like to go to church; and I had declined, being that Santaquin at the time had one LDS church. And it was the very church my father worked at. They offered to drive me or have someone from another ward take me, but in no means did they force me to go. Not saying I it didn’t go every so often with my grandmother or even Aunty M when the occasion arose, but it was either my grandmother's ward or an LDS church in Goshen UT; ten miles out of Santaquin and sometimes they went with me. I didn’t step another foot into that church until my dad and mother kidnapped me, and still have nightmares from it.

Sometimes they would have family home evening as ward members would be assigned to give a lesson and the Downing’s would sit and listen and participate and would provide refreshments afterwards. And that was fine by me, not once did they impose their doctrines on them or force them to become members in the church.  I had no doubt that if I wanted them to, they would have joined the church for me. But I had been taught that early on that a true conversion was something that had to be chosen for, not for other people. Jeff had taught me that, and I figured he was a lot closer to God than most people would be, while they were alive.  Jeff seldom preached to me, but when he did I listened.

Jody was sent to come to get me as I led to the breakfast table and I took my seat. I wasn’t the only one without a shirt except for Arthur wearing his humility vest, his hair was still damp as he eyes lingered on me for a brief moment, Shawn and Shane smiled seeing me wince as I sat down scooting just enough forward so my back didn’t touch the back of the chair. I noticed the hard lines of perfect flesh untouched. As they leaned forward enough to see parts of their bare shoulders and as they turned as their mother placed a clean iron shirt behind each of their chairs.

I knew if my parents saw this they would scream immodest and immoral behavior. Yet it seemed that they are the only ones that consider that it was. Hearing them cuss every time they saw a boy or a man without a shirt or girl in a bathing suit, was indecent in their eyes. Telling us that they should be ashamed of the sins they committing against God. To me and everyone else, I found this thinking ridicules and overbearing, and somehow I didn’t think God if existed didn’t think it was sin nor did I think he was embarrassed by it in the least.

Jared and Jason were loosely dressed in a clean button-down matching shirts slacks and colored socks. And all the women were dressed in their Sunday best. No one said a word out loud regarding last night, but there were enough whispers between Shane and Shawn. I caught words like betting on how long it would take to break me; and how they looked forward in doing it.

I knew the routine as I waited for my meal and once again the pills were placed in front of me with something that looked a like a dark green drink. I also noticed everyone had the same smelling vile drink and pills. I watched as each one quickly swallowed them without hesitation. I soon learned that these were homegrown vitamin pills and herbs and vegetable proteins; like fish oil, garlic, and wheat germ and other herbs I never heard of.

I didn’t waste time and quick as possible swallowed them down like everyone else with a glass of orange juice. Finding it cut the taste as I alternated between the two drinks. It was always wheat toast or wheat of some verity. Mrs. Rothwell rarely used white flour instead would grind her own with a special machine made for the home. She firmly believed in having a seven-year supply like the LDS church has preached a number of times and still do.

I followed Arthur’s example of staying quite unless some asked me a question. I answered as polite as I could muster. Only once did Mr. Rothwell give me a warning lifting my chin when some asked me a question. I repeated it my answer looking them in their eyes, other than that I kept my head bowed staying out of the limelight as possible. Jeff still hadn’t returned and I was concerned considering he seldom left my side. I feared he was being punished for something I did or some rule he had broken in my defense. I feared that he would leave me forever, even though he said he would always be there when I needed him. I felt abandon as I sat there waiting for Mr. Rothwell to strike me, my hands shook with fear. I wanted to cry because I was so scared, but forced myself to be strong.

I was soon led back to my room once more. I hated these cold white walls. I hated being here most of all. Mrs. Rothwell came in soon after to help me get ready for church; but so did Mr. Rothwell. I stood the moment the door opened and waited for permission to sit. My back was killing me every time I moved I’d wince. Mr. Rothwell roughly turned me so he could see my back and smiled seeing the pain on my face. Then laid down the law telling me how he expected to obey or I would get another beating like one previously. I had no doubts as waited for me to answer. I said, “yes sir I understood.” He nodded telling me things will go better when I learn to obey without any fuse and I can be trusted to do so. Again I said, “yes sir I will do better in the future.”

He nodded said. “All will be well when you do.” I was told how they expected me to act in public and that for now until I could be trusted to be on my own. I will never be left alone except in my room here at home. I will remain quiet unless spoken to unless given permission to do so. Again I said yes sir and waited for him to continue on. Trying to get my hands from shaking; I was really glad I had been to the bathroom or I would have peed my pants because of how freighted I was with him being so near me. Jeff still hadn’t returned.

I was told that I would be seeing the Bishop and I was to tell him everything so I could repent fully of my sins. As he went over them having me repeat them back to him until he was satisfied. I didn’t give him any reason to strike me.  I just repeated them even though they were lies; well most of them were lies. I figured that was between me and God to judge me. Jeff and I had decided for now to go along with it to avoid further punishment. Saying they will atone for what they have done, either in this life or the next or both, but I needed to keep myself alive. That was before Jeff left me, and the longer he was gone it scared me too face these things alone. Mr. Rothwell knew I was scared, more scared then I should have been. I became less scared of my own father in caparison.

I was soon dressed in a clean white shirt and tie and a good pair of slacks. It had been a while since I wore a tie and soon was taught as I repeated the process. Mrs. Rothwell had carefully covered my wounds with cotton bandages to keep my blood from staining or leaking through my shirt. But some blood drops could still be seen so she made me wear a sweater vest to hide it. Tsking on how hard blood is to get out. My shoes were a little tight because they were new and the polish was to a bright sheen.

When I was dressed and ready; I was lead out of my room and seated in the living room while everyone gathered for morning prayer. It amazed me how someone like Mr. Rothwell and his family could be cruel and foul-mouthed and degrading, but able to pray if they were innocent in God’s presence. Sometimes Mrs. Rothwell cried saying how strong the spirit was when we prayed together as a family and how blessed we were to have the priesthood in our home. Personally, I didn’t feel anything as my mind focused on the advents that had taken place in the last four days.

I had learned from Jody that Dad had taken time off just for me as he guides me through my “training period.” I remember her sad face when she told me that. I asked if it was always this bad, but she refused to answer me and would change the subject. Like her, I got a sense that she too was afraid of her parents more so of her father than her mother. But she said she could be just as cruel if not worse from time to time. I told her what my family was like and how they treated me and my brother Aaron and warned me to keep those advents private and even more so what happens here. Unless I wanted to end up like the last foster boy, I needed to be careful and intoned very careful who I trusted. I asked what happened, but she didn’t answer me. Saying it was best I didn’t know.

I was given a new note pad and pen to write with my scriptures. I was told they expected me to write what I had learned from each of my meetings and later be called on to give an oral report that night. During the family devotional, something I was familiar with had done with the Frys.  Asking if I knew how to write as well as I can read; I was also told in not so many words, if I didn’t I would suffer the consequences for not being prepared. Again I said, “yes sir I can and I will”. I waited for him to strike me, but he nodded that was the correct response.

He checked the time and sat me next to Mrs. Rothwell in the front seat so they could keep an eye on me while everyone else got into the car. It took two cars for us all to fit in as Shane drove the second car with Shawn, Jared, and Jason. We drove up to the church house; which wasn’t far maybe a half a mile. It wasn’t as big as the one in Santaquin. Everything was on one level, except two of the rooms. One room in the basement was used for scouting and other meetings that required the use of the classroom. Apparently, it uses too be the boiler-room but had been updated unlike the one in Santaquin. It still gave me the willies just being underground like it was.

The Bishop office was down the hall from the chapel. Mr. and Mrs. Rothwell motioned me to sit in the middle as we waited for my appointment. I was surprised they had not once called me Mule Boy instead called me Earick. I don’t know why he couldn’t say it correctly and less he was trying to insult me by doing so. When I sat I flinched when he put his arm around me; thinking I had done something wrong was about to be punished for it.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear to remind me of the rules we had discussed and as I repeated them softly praying he wouldn’t hit me if I missed a single one. He nodded that I had done what he had asked and removed his arm from my shoulders. Mrs. Rothwell calmly took my hand and placed it in my lap squeezing it softly and smiled and whispered I was doing fine. To everyone else that passed us we looked like an ordinary family. I was even introduced as their new foster son. Not some sinful boy or Mule boy, but a person.

I was unsure how to act as I remained silent and very timid. As they explained that I was shy around strangers. Saying hoping that it would wear off once I have settled in.  When they had moved on, Mr. Rothwell reached up and patted my cheek.  I flinched because I was scared because he was so unpredictable. He quickly leaned over and whispered in my ear as he took me by the arm squeezing it tightly as I winced from the pain. He said, “stop being such a scared little rabbit.” Telling me he would give me something to be scared about if I didn’t stop flinching every time he touched me. Then let me go turning my head so he could see my eyes and nodded. Affirming that he meant what he said.

It was soon after the door opened and he brought me to my feet and quickly shook the Bishop’s hand and introduced me as he had done with the others. I had hoped that I would be left alone, but to my dismay and discomfort, Mr. and Mrs. Rothwell went inside with me. The Bishop said it would be best that they waited outside. But Mr. Rothwell said I was shy, saying I would feel better if they were present.

Bishop Henry Lanwall. Seemed liked a kind man as he stood under 6 feet tall. Brown hair which was graying on the side; his head shaped like a round melon. He had brown eyes that reminded me of chocolate almonds not quite round with dark centers under his bushy eyebrows and long straight button nose. When he smiled it seemed to light the room. He reminded me of young Alfred Hitchcock with hair with broad shoulders and pudgy, but no means fat. His day time occupation was a local bank president at First Security Bank in American Fork, Utah before they all became Wells Fargo.

Bishop Lanwall didn’t give it much thought or he would have noticed the fear in my eyes, but instead agreed that it if made me more comfortable then it would be fine. I didn’t dare say anything remembering what Jody had said the night before. I succumbed and tried not to show it. Taking a seat as they once more sat me in the middle as if they were both comforting a frightened boy. Jeff still hadn’t made an appearance and I needed him with me more than ever, but somewhere I mustered up the courage. Going through the list in my mind as I was introduced with complete background regarding parts of my life they felt was important. Stating that I felt and they felt that I needed to confess the things I had done wrong in the sight of God. Waiting for me to answer as his eyes narrowed in on me as if he could kill me where I stood.

So I sighed stating verbatim the list of sins they had thought I committed. Then waited to be struck down either by God or Mr. Rothwell, but neither happened, as I sat and waited for someone in the room to say something. Ten minutes went by as Bishop sat back in his chair looking at the ceiling then nodded his head and looked each of us in his eyes. Lingering on mine the longest and then studied Mr. Rothwell. Giving a heavy sigh asking me the last time I had taken the sacrament and if I had been ordained to a deacon or teacher. I said I had been ordained as a teacher but had been a while since I had taken the sacrament.

Mr. Rothwell stated in a very displeased voice that my last foster home was not of the LDS faith. That due to my sins that I should have no right to hold the priesthood period; but hoping the church could reconsider and strip me of the title until at such time I am worthy to be re-baptized and be re-ordained as deacon once I am worthy enough to hold the priesthood. What he was asking was for me to be excommunicated. I was appalled for it was my understating that it was only done for more serious crimes against the church. Like prostitution or drugs or other criminal behavior, but any case I didn’t deserve such an offense.

It was almost an hour before a decision was made. For once it was in my favor when he said; “there had never been a case that a 14-year boy has done something so bad to warrant such an action. But tell me, son, how did you murder this Jeff Fry? Did you hold the gun and pulled the trigger. No. you stated you opened the door as the gun went off. You may think you killed him and blame yourself for his death thinking you were too late to stop him, but it was his decision. If you were there or not makes little difference most likely he would have done it anyway. Your not a harden criminal or would be in prison this very moment. So you sinned. What 14-year boy hasn’t?” He looked at the clock and looked back at me and Mr. Rothwell.

“The church states that being ordained cannot be re-ordained to a lesser calling unless they find it truly necessary, but I don’t find it to be necessary at all on the contrary of your belief. So this is what I will do. I will meet with him once a week for a month “alone” and determine if he’s worthy to uphold his calling and see how he progress in class and in scouting; seeing that he has almost achieved his Eagle according to the records that I have in front of me. And will go on from there.” I was shocked that the church already had them in the first place. As I watched him stand and reached over to shake my hand; something in his eyes said he didn’t believe a single word of all the sins I been told I had committed and just for a brief moment I thought I saw and felt a bright light and strange sense of peace when I shook his hand. Something was different about him compared to other bishops I had met.

As we were leaving he told me that he had met with my friend Jeff last night that he hasn’t abandoned me. Mr. Rothwell was caught off guard but quickly composed his self. I was hoping that it worried him that Jeff had witnessed everything they had done. Hoping that Jeff somehow told him the danger I was in. But what I knew for sure I was going to be punished when I got home.