Chapter 17

Matt let us out a couple of doors down from the front of my house and drove away. As we neared my house they hinted that they might come in to keep us company for a while. I told them my parents are home. They saw my dad's car in the driveway and assumed I was telling the truth.

I led Marsha up to my parent's bathroom. After turning on the water to fill their Jacuzzi tub I helped her undress. She's scaring me. She's almost catatonic.

I helped her into the tub. She has that dazed look on her face again. I'm a little worried because she hasn't said a word since we left the farm. Granted there was a cock in her mouth all the way back to town. But I can't help being more than a little concerned about her mental status.

I gathered some candles and put on some soft music. I don't want this to look too much like a seduction. But I'm worried about her sanity and I figured we could both use a relaxing bath. I finally joined her in the tub. There's easily room for the two of us and several others as well if we're good friends.

I turned the jets on low and sat across from her. She slid down and rested her head against the side of the tub. Tears began to stream down her cheeks again. After a few minutes I sat her up and moved around behind her. I sat with my legs on either side of her and pulled her back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and held her in my arms.

She relaxed against me and rested her head on my shoulder. It took her several minutes to come around, but finally she spoke.

She cleared her throat and in a voice so quiet I almost couldn't hear her she asked, "Why is she so cruel?"

Then, a little louder now she asked, "And why do so many of the kids who were our friends find the horrible things she's making us do amusing?"

I didn't say anything. I had to bite my tongue to ask her why she found it so entertaining when she was watching it happen to me.

But it was only a moment later that she said in a sad voice, "That was a stupid question. Sorry, Brenda. I still don't understand it, though. Why did it excite me so much when I saw it happening to you? I'm not a bad person."

I don't have any answers for her. I'm still handling this by thinking about it as little as possible and crying a lot.

When the water started to cool I added more hot water and then I washed Marsha's tired, sore body with a soapy wash cloth. I washed her hair and then I washed myself. When the water began to get uncomfortably cool again I drained the tub and we dried off. I hadn't thought to bring anything for us to put on so we went to my room in the nude.

Marsha is slowly calming down and starting to behave a little more like normal. We talked quietly for a while, long enough that I'm reasonably certain she isn't going to commit suicide.

While we were talking I washed our dresses. The insides of both of them are nasty. She finally got dressed and went home in time for supper. I sat at the kitchen table in my quiet house, sipping a glass of ice water, staring sightlessly out the window and trying desperately not to think about what the next two years of my life are going to be like.

I never saw Marsha again after that.

The next day was so quiet it was creepy. Reggie neglected to tell us to report to her house on Sunday. So I sat around praying the phone wouldn't ring. It only rang once in the early afternoon when my mother called to check on me and let me know they're on the way home.

I forced myself to watch the second DVD, just in case Reggie decided to quiz me on it. I did laundry and cleaned house. I even studied a little. My parents got home at a little after eight and I listened in silence while they talked about their trip. They were still talking about it an hour later when a police detective came to our front door.

That's when I learned Marsha went home from my house Saturday, still trying to decide between suicide and running away. But this morning she finally couldn't take it any longer. She broke down and told her parents everything. She spent most of the day at the police station. They brought in dozens of detectives and took statements. Then they started rounding people up.

She tried to leave me out of it. But of course that wasn't possible. A lot of people lied about their involvement at first. But Reggie provided such a clear and constant video record of nearly every rape which took place that there was enough evidence to convict nearly half the boys in our school of rape.

They stood this little town on end. Mr. Curry and Mr. Perez were arrested. Marshal's operation got raided. I finally found out that the building we went to so that Reggie could sell him our DVDs was a strip club. It came out later in court that Marsha and I were going to be working there over the summer vacation, stripping and hooking. We just didn't know it yet.

They arrested Tara and Steph, Tank, Ben and Rosey, Mr. Kunkle and Reggie. They picked up nearly half the boys in our high school and several from the intermediate school who were friends of Ben and had taken part in the rapes. They arrested Donny and a dozen or more of his friends, most of whom are recent high school graduates.

For the next three months I only left the house to go to the courthouse for depositions and hearings. Except for that I didn't have the nerve to leave my house. I couldn't face anyone and no one wanted anything to do with me.

I began to spend all my time in my room when my parents were home. As far as I know my parents never saw any of the videos. But they heard far too many of the statements describing all the horrible acts I'd been forced to commit. They didn't see the pictures or the DVDs. But they heard the details. They know what I've done.

I think in the beginning my mother honestly tried to overlook it, to get past it, to be supportive. But I guess there's only so much a mother can take. She can't stand to look at me now and try as she might she can't hide it. She understands that it wasn't my fault, that I was raped, that they forced me to do those horrible things. But I see the disgust in her face whenever she looks at me.

It's worse with my father, though. He hasn't been able to speak to me since the third day after it all started to come out. But then, neither has anyone else. And for some reason they keep Marsha and I apart. Or maybe that's what Marsha wants. I don't know. I thought at first it would be easier to go through this if I could go through it with someone else; if we could support each other. She apparently didn't agree. When I tried to call her I got a recording that said her number is no longer in service. As far as I know she made no effort to contact me.