Roman has lost yet another little brother and the giant rift of pain is too much for him to carry... lost in a world of despair he does the only thing he knows... to run.
Roman has lost yet another little brother and the giant rift of pain is too much for him to carry... lost in a world of despair he does the only thing he knows... to run.
Down a bottomless pit
..... Like I mentioned before, the few things that kept Roman from becoming a statistic was the fact he was almost seventeen and his street cred, his rap sheet… being charged with armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon, that he had pistol-whipped a grown man to the ground during a holdup… flamed the fires of gossip all around the IBS and as far as Roman was concerned, let them believe whatever they wanted as long as it gave him an additional layer of security he was fine with that.
But Ari had no security… except for Roman. Ari had a string of shoplifting charges, school truancy and minor infractions as far as Roman had heard… basically a good kid from a broken home and no one had taken him under their wing as a mentor to keep him out of trouble. Hundreds, if not thousands of kids just like Ari end up at Boy’s school all over the country just like IBS that come in naïve and innocent and leave cold and hardened criminals… the gangster factory Roman once told Ari is all it was.
Over the course of several months, they had become inseparable… and had established a routine of some sorts… meet up before chow times and eat together… read comics, play pool and ping pong together in the community room before lights out and their beds weren’t far apart in the same dorm… Roman had pulled whatever strings he could to look out after Ari’s safekeeping with the help of a couple of the house managers who were there for the right reasons, and Roman took full advantage of that.
But a pack of jackals will continue to circle the herd, patiently waiting for their chance, sooner or later the old, sick or young ones will be vulnerable… and they’ll pounce.
So one day when Roman couldn’t find Ari and thought it was odd he didn’t show up for dinner he knew something was terribly wrong.
He was ‘not in his bunk… no one had seen him in the play room, baseball field or walking on the quad.
Roman started to feel something was going on in the dorm, to many averted eyes when asked if they’d seen Ari, or vague answers to his questions about his whereabouts… Roman sensed a charged atmosphere, could feel the crackle of electricity, an underlying hum that often accompanied when something was up with the dorm. Breaking in a new arrival… a fight was getting ready to pop off… some newbie getting his cherry popped… all of it not good and this evening Roman had the sinking feeling in his gut it was Ari.
He ran down to the basement where the showers were but he was too late… half a dozen of the Simon City Royals were hanging out smoking cigarettes and laughing about something as Roman approached them…
He saw the small figure of Ari on his knees with older boys surrounded him and what Roman could only imagine was some gang sexual initiation act, pleasuring the older boys and God only knows what else.
Roman pushed the circle of boys outta his path…
“Hey, wait yer turn… one kid hollered.
“No jumpin in front…” another one said.
Roman threw the first punch, connecting with the jaw of the mouth that had just spoken… then another to the throat of one kid standing directly in front of him.
When Roman recognized Ari he went berserk and began pummeling anyone close by… punching… kicking… yelling for Ari to get up and run. But Ari didn’t move.
One of the older kids, a gang leader, had his hand on Ari’s head and pressed it to his body.
“He’s one of us now… we’re his family… we’ll protect him. Like you never could.” Said the gang leader.
Roman held his hand out to Ari, “Come on, fuck them… let’s go… this isn’t what you want… come on!” Roman begged him to come with him.
But Ari turned his head away ashamed, embarrassed… not moving.
Roman never saw the flickering eye movement and gesture from the gang leader, but all at once all the other boys were on top of Roman in a flash…
The punches came fast and furious, Roman dropped to the ground trying to shield himself from the onslaught of blows… but they were too many.
Roman came to in the medical first aid clinic on campus, the admin didn’t think his injuries were severe enough to warrant a trip to the hospital in Indianapolis even though he had lost consciousness… or more importantly, that might spark an investigation by the hospital into the goings on at IBS, which had a history of shoddy medical treatment and mysterious deaths leading to unmarked graves and unreported runaways.
He was given some aspirin and a cup of water, cuts on his face were cleaned and treated and he was sent back to his dorm… expected to be at work the following day.
As winter rolled in with it’s icy cold blast of artic air Roman stood in formation with the other boys in front of their dorms shivering as his feet turned into blocks of ice, the sharp winds slicing through the thin, state uniforms, his pea coat offering little protection, as his eyes watered from the bitter cold he stood like the rest staring at Mr. Clack, the worst of all the house managers, he was a sadistic bastard that bathed in the suffering of his charges, known by all the boys to be a class I predator with a voracious appetite for shorties, the youngest of the boys incarcerated. Clack would tolerate nothing short of total domination, and he had it in for Roman, and a few others, that wouldn’t bend to his will.
Roman glanced up and stared at the window on the second floor where he could see Ari looking down at him. His eyes dark and hollow, no longer the same kid who had climbed up into Roman’s barber chair a year ago…
Ari had been handpicked by Clack to become his personal pet, and he had used the Royal gang leader to make it happen. That’s how things worked in there. Ari was excluded from drills and marches doled out as punishment… no more standing in the frigid cold or pelting rain for little Ari Roman thought… he could only imagine the kind of hell the little guy was suffering through now.
“I’d kill myself…” Roman said silently before he’d suffer the same.
But another thought kept percolating up inside his head these last few weeks… escape.
Clack barked at the formation to turn right and start marching around the quad as the snow began to blow through the lines of boys… they would march as long as Clack got satisfaction from their torment… no matter what old man winter threw their way, the worse the conditions the harder Clack grew.
As their formation began its turn and the snow falling became a blizzard Roman’s mind screamed run.
Without a seconds hesitation, Roman stepped out of formation and disappeared in the snowy, blizzard storm.
He dipped behind the large evergreens and stopped to listen for any alarm called out, but there was none.
Almost impossible to see the fading formation of black pea coats and blue pants marching back to the dorm building, Roman guessed anyone that cared enough to look up would find it equally as difficult to see him.
Most of the time all the boys just stared down at the ground to keep pace with the boots in front of them not looking anywhere else. And that’s what Roman had counted on.
He took off like a jack rabbit skirting the dorms and headed to the large barn by the farm… he thought that was a pretty safe place to hide to get his bearings and catch his breath.
The cows would be corralled inside and all the boys that worked the farm would be either at the chow hall… or in their dorms… especially on a night like this.
It was warm inside the barn, the collective heat from all the cows worked better than their radiator did in the dorm.
Roman cautiously looked around making sure no one was in there as well… after deciding nothing but the cows were his company he relaxed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. What had he done.
Should he run back to his dorm and act like he was not feeling well, try and pull off some good excuse for dropping out of formation, without permission? Yeah, right. Roman knew the consequences for that offense. Clack would offer the wooden paddle treatment or allow Roman to forgo his punishment if he would instead be a good boy and do as he was told. No doubt, requiring Roman to spend the night with Clack attending to his twisted needs.
Screw that, Roman said aloud… causing a few of the cows to eyeball their intruder suspiciously for talking outloud.
He made a plan to take off at first light and run through the plowed fields towards the tree line and heavily wooded acreage that surrounded the campus.
Roman wasn’t positive that there wasn’t a fence of some sort in the woods but no one had ever seen one or mentioned there being one, unlike three-fourths of the property that had a high twelve foot razor-wire fence to discourage little punks like himself from jack rabbiting off the premises.
He’s just have to roll the dice and see… then once out in the world he need to get to a phone… call his old friend Jeff and try to secure a ride or since he was a outlaw fugitive maybe he’d just “borrow” a car and head south… Florida was absolutely balmy this time of the year. Maybe look up Ang and see what the deal was.
He pulled his peacoat tight against his face and tried to get some sleep with his back literally up against the wall.
Before dawn broke over the grey skies, the storm had tapered off to reveal a winter wonderland covered in a foot of fresh, pristine snow.
Roman hadn’t got much sleep worried that any minute the doors of the barn would bust open and the red-vests would tear the place apart looking for him.
The red-vests were a group of the oldest boys, supposedly the “honor-unit” that due to their best behavior they were allowed to prowl the entire school grounds un-accompanied by any adult supervision like the house managers. Roman knew that was all bullshit.
They were the exact opposite of “honor”… more apt to say “goon-squad” as far as Roman had noticed over the past year… imagine your high school football team varisity starting players wearing red vest over their street clothes that rode around in old pickup trucks enforcing the iron fist of IBS in a way that kept the Admin from getting directly involved in any violent interactions.
When the red-vest captured a boy trying to make a run for it, they could beat the shit outta him and it was classified as boys just getting into a tussle… whereas, if Admin were to do the same they would face severe scrutiny and blowback from the board. So the red-vest acted as the wolves that kept the sheep in line. In reality, they were just a bunch of mean-ass punks that thoroughly enjoyed beating the crap out of kids, whenever possible.
Roman took one last look around peeking out the rear of the barn but didn’t see a soul… he thought he could make the tree line in an all out run before anyone saw him, then he’d disappear into the woods.
Ain’t nothing do it, but to do it, he said under his breath and took off.
The new snow made it more difficult than he had thought, and his speed was suffering greatly. As Roman worked his legs furiously trying to go as fast as he could the plowed field was frozen and the dirt clods were like sharp edged rocks, making it almost impossible for him to keep his balance.
Every time he fell the frozen clods of earth cut his hands and tore at his clothes… only another hundred yards and he’d be in the woods. Safe.
The growl of a powerful engine split the cold crisp morning air and Roman didn’t even have to look back to know it was them. The red-vest boys.
His lungs were burning from the freezing air pumping through his chest as he willed his body to stay upright and move faster… another fifty yards the cover of the woods, he’d take off like a deer pursued by a pack of dogs, for that’s all they were.
The pickup truck was gaining rapidly, there were boys leaning out of the windows yelling and taunting Roman to run as fast as he could… he couldn’t resist and turned to look back and saw there were even red-vest in the back of the truck as well… maybe five or six all together… their eyes wild with excitement at the prospect of what’s to come.
The yelling and jeering heightened as they drew closer, closing the gap between predator and prey.
Roman had fallen once more and as he struggled to regain his footing the pickup truck was now alongside and the passenger door flew open as the truck was still moving knocking Roman to the frozen ground.
He rolled over ready to kick out at the first red-vest that jumped him… but that was all he could do before the trucks occupants fell on top of Roman like wolves tearing into a stray calf. He was so cold he could barely feel the blows…
He was so exhausted from struggling to run over the frozen field of jagged ice and dirt clods that he almost welcomed the abuse. He remembered biting a fist and clenching down on it for all he’s worth, tasting the blood in his mouth and thinking at least he had drawn blood before a boot to his head made the world go black.
Once again, he regained consciousness as his body shivered uncontrollably, looking down at his pale figure only wearing his underwear laying on top of a grey woolen blanket that felt as rough as sandpaper, Roman tried pulling the blanket over his body for warmth then a loud voice crackled over an intercom.
“Don’t even think about it…” the voice bellowed in the bare eight by six foot cell of concrete and steel.
“No getting under the blanket until lights out…” the voice informed Roman.
His head still ringing from the beating and not sure who was speaking he thought he might be hallucinating and continued to crawl under the bristle liken blanket.
Then a sharp beep followed by a clicking sound and his steel door opened and two real life prison guard looking goons appeared inside.
“Didn’t you hear us?” One of the goons barked.
He reached down and plucked Roman off the bunk like a rag doll and deposited him on the cold, concrete floor. In less than a minute they had remade his bed and once again told him he wasn’t allowed under the blanket until lights out.
Roman curled up on the steel chair bolted to the steel desk that was bolted to the concrete wall… and held his pounding head in his hands desperately willing the pain to go away.
One of the guards returned with a small white cup with two pills and a plastic glass of water.
“Here ya go… for your head… we we’re just waiting for you to wake up.” The guard commented as he handed Roman the cup.
His throat was so dry he could barely swallow.
You can lay on your bunk… just not under the …..
Covers, Roman injected… yeah I got it he added.
“Just play by the rules kid and you’ll be out of here in no time.” The guard added and closed the door with a loud click.
Roman limped over to the bed and curled up in a fetal position pulling his sore knees to his chest. No doubt this was the notorious House of Detention everyone was always goin on about… lock up… solitary confinement… the hole. He had only heard the rumors, tales from a few of the boys that didn’t follow the rules. Fucks sake, they never mentioned how fuckin cold it was in here he thought as he shivered.
Eventually the minutes and hours passed… and the voice on the intercom blared “lights out” and the overhead fluorescent lights went black… Roman’s cue that it was now allowed to get under the covers.
He pulled a stale smelling white sheet and wool blanket over his head and rolled up as tight as he could trying to generate some warmth.
As he began to recall the events that had lead up to this point his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t stop crying… what had he done? Was this all he had now, he wondered. Alone in a small concrete box, naked except for his underwear? He recalled one of the guards had said thirty days… the last few hours felt like an eternity… how was he going to last thirty days? Lost in the darkness of complete despair he curled tighter and tighter into the smallest of space… praying to a God he didn’t believe existed to disappear from this world.