As for the suggestions I have asked for, I've gotten two and they have been very insightful. One has been to be more descriptive, particularly sensory, particularly olfactory. This suggestion has opened up a whole new world to me to look at the story because I know how smells have brought memories back to me. Good stuff.
The other suggestion was that the narrative is fine, but there needs to be more conversation. So far the only speaking has been A&W reaming out Our Hero in Chapter Five and Our Hero ordering drinks in Chapter One. This one is going to be a little harder. I tend to work in my head so I need to find voice for these characters as well as narrative. But let's face it, great suggestion, eh?
So a million thanks to my readers and to those who share, a million more thanks to each of the people who read from their share. I love you all and please keep reading and commenting and helping me make this better.
And now on with the show...
Chapter Six
The speedy trial came more quickly
than I imagined. The court even speeded up the process, something about the
witnesses leaving after graduation. Everybody wanted to get rid of me as
quickly as they could. The evidence that I might have been drugged was
disallowed, but that was the only way I could have made it back to her place
without knowing it. Or at least I guess that’s what happened. My lawyer proved
that I couldn’t have committed a sexual assault without transferring hair to
her, and since none of my hair was on her I couldn’t have done what they
accused me of doing. Of course seeking the evidence was a humiliating
experience. As for the DNA transfer, I don’t know how that was done. I can
imagine a couple of ways. I don’t want to imagine any of them, but I can.
In the end, the sexual assault
charge against me was dropped but I was found guilty of some lesser assault
charges. How I ended up in the hospital and with assault charges is beyond my
imagination, but that’s what happened. The judge decided to try an interesting
deferred sentence. She decided to conscript me to a Military Academy Seminary
Program where I would have no contact with women and have significant contact
with “study, prayer, and discipline.” There was a way the judge said
“discipline” that made me believe I was on the express train to hell.
Welcome to the land of no choice.
I had a criminal record. I had judgment against me. I would get three years in
seminary and five in the service, more if my term ended and I couldn’t get home
or was “involuntarily reenlisted.” All for an assault I didn’t commit.
What happened? These were all
people from church these people sat near me, beside me. We played basketball
together. We played touch football, they had all heard about how I played tackle.
They knew I was tough and could play in pain, that’s probably why they used
four guys and drugs to beat me to a pulp.
We took care of kids, the kids;
I’ll probably never get to look at another kid with this hanging over me. These
were my friends, but one of them did look at me differently. There was a gleam
in his eyes that was different from any other look I had ever seen before.
Friends. Friends who are on fire
for the Lord. Burning. Burning. That’s it, burning. One of those four guys was
sitting a couple of pews behind me the first time I went to University Reformed
Church. I remembered a burning sensation on the back of my neck that day. Maybe
that was the reason I felt someone staring a hole in the back of my head. Is
that what this is? Jealousy? On the day of my sentencing he was with Ashley.
I’m conscripted and he’s “picking up the pieces.” A&W DeMoss looks glad
there’s someone to care for his baby girl.
I wish I could take the prison
cell rather than seminary. Instead after sentencing I’m moved to what they call
a “monk’s cell” to begin my study. This doesn’t even come off of my seminary or
service time. It’s pre-prison. It’s a time of preparation for seminary. They
give me a syllabus and a schedule. Study, prayer, and discipline are getting
off to an early start. Everybody just thinks it’s better to keep me away, get
me off the streets. This way I’m not a constant reminder to anybody. I’m not
even a member of anybody anymore.
As they take me away, my lawyer
gives me her final bill. Really, a final bill for this? Eight years for being
railroaded? My cash is gone. It’s either been used to settle my parent’s bills,
pay for their funerals, pay for my education or my defense. I have one thing
left.
I give my lawyer the engagement
ring. It’s not even Ashley’s engagement ring any more, it’s just the engagement
ring. “Keep the change” and I’m led off.
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