Aftermath Confessions Chapter 1 of 7 The Prelude
- 4 years ago
- 28
- 0
Aftermath ('The Slut') free porn video
AFTERMATH ('THE SLUT')
By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2020
WARNING: CONTAINS REFERENCES TO SUICIDE & RAPE.
Author's Note: One of the saddest stories on FM is Janice's 'The Slut':
"Three teenage girls exact revenge on the older brother of one of them,
who is obnoxious to them, with dire results." It's a short but powerful
story, cutting 'close to the bone' of reality. Many of its reviewers
demanded a sequel. 'Aftermath' is an unauthorized tribute to Janice's
gut-wrenching realism. Please do not associate any shortcomings in my
work with her thoughtful gem. Any overlaps in copyright I cede to her.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
RT
HOME SWEET HOME --- SUNDAY
It was a beautiful, late Sunday summer afternoon: warm, clear skies,
brilliant sun.
Janet and Jim drove back home. They had been together since college and
married for 24 years. She was 45 years old, a successful industrial
machinery sales rep. He was 46, a mid-level manager in government. They
were happily married and had two children.
Until this weekend, they had never taken any vacations without their
kids. Nancy, the eldest, was 17 years old and a bright student, well
liked by her friends and peers. Paul, their son, was 15 and, well, he was
a rambunctious teenage boy. Not evil, not criminal, but undeniably a
hellion, especially toward his older sister. She considered him a pest,
and he considered her a soft target.
Janet and Jim had finally concluded, after much discussion, that they
could leave their two children alone for a weekend. They wanted quiet
intimacy (impossible with youngsters). They made a reservation at an
adult resort in the countryside. They instructed their children to
contact them if anything went wrong and left Nancy in charge.
Janet and Jim drove back home happy.
-----000-----
As they approached their home, they saw a large police van in the
driveway and a police car on the street. They grew nervous. They parked
and hurried to the front door. A uniformed officer sat on an Adirondack
chair on the stoop and stood up as they approached.
"Excuse me. Please go back," the officer said officiously.
"This is our house!" They were worried now.
"Oh! Sorry. Please wait a minute," the officer said, and then muttered
something into her patrol mic. The front door opened. A man and a woman
in business suits came out.
"What's going on?" Janet asked.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?" the woman asked.
"Yes. What's going on?" Jim replied.
The two detectives exchanged looks. The woman said, "I am Detective
Smith, and this is Detective Jones. Would you please come with us to the
backyard?"
-----000-----
They sat at the patio table. The backyard was shaded and sheltered from
the other houses. The two detectives' faces were flat and expressionless.
They sat formally in the chairs. Janet and Jim were anxious and leaned
forward on the table.
The female detective was painfully aware that these two parents would
remember this moment for the rest of their lives. She solemnly began:
"I have some bad news to tell you. Your son, Paul, committed suicide
early this morning or late last night, in the kitchen." Janet started to
whimper. Jim's jaw dropped. They grabbed each others' hands.
"This is what we know for certain at this time. First, Paul cut his
wrists and bled to death. Second, he was wearing women's clothing at the
time of his death. Third, your daughter and two of her friends were
asleep in the house when it happened." She paused to let that basic
information sink in. "I'm very sorry this happened."
Janet started grasping: "Women's clothing? In the kitchen? He doesn't...
Why? Why? What do you mean? I don't understand." She trembled. The tears
fell.
"Where is he?" Jim whispered, red-eyed.
"His body is at the coroner's office for examination."
Jim and Janet were visibly devastated. Both detectives hated this part of
their job.
"We want to see him. And where's Nancy?"
The two detectives exchanged looks. "Your daughter is safe. We'll take
you to the coroner's office first and then to your daughter."
THE CORONER'S OFFICE --- SUNDAY
The diener drew the sheet off the body.
Paul's naked corpse lay on the autopsy table. It had not yet been
prepared for examination. Janet wept as it was uncovered. Jim held her.
His hair was in a ponytail. It was obvious that he had been wearing
makeup; some had been removed and some more had been added. His lightly
tanned skin was but a deathly pallor; it matched the room's walls. Both
of his wrists were sliced, one plainly more deeply than the other.
Paul's body was dressed in a peignoir. Janet recognized it as one of
hers. She touched it. "Please don't touch anything," the diener
compassionately asked. Janet let it go.
Jim nodded his head at the detectives: the body was Paul's.
Janet leaned over and kissed him. She caressed his cheek. Her tears fell
on the table.
Jim's body shook and shook. He kissed his son farewell and helped his
wife out of the room.
The diener drew the sheet over the body.
-----000-----
That corpse on that table in that room was their last image of him.
And they would never be able to forget it.
THE POLICE STATION --- SUNDAY
The two parents and two detectives sat in a comfortable, decorated
interview room. The latter had informed the former that their
conversation would be recorded to accurately record their "conversation".
Janet had sobbed when she had been told that the investigation was
ongoing and that she was not a suspect. Jim nodded his understanding and
kept his arm around Janet's shoulder.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, your daughter is being detained as a suspect in
your son's death." Detective Jones knew no other way to inform them of
that stark fact.
"Suspect?" Jim asked, astonished.
"Yes, she and two other young women. Do you know a Thelma Albertson and
Shelley Burns?" Detective Jones spoke in a measured, flat voice.
"They're Nancy's friends!" Janet rushed to answer. "They were having a
sleepover this weekend! How are they involved? Are they suspects? What
did they do?" Her voice expressed her agitation.
"I want to talk to my daughter now!" Jim raised his voice.
Detective Smith motioned calm with her hands and flatly answered: "Your
daughter is a minor. In accordance with the law, we have limited our
questioning of her. You are now here. You may speak with her. Once you
have done so, we may be resuming our questioning."
The detective was pragmatic and not insensitive. "It may be advisable for
her to consult a lawyer before we interview her. We will caution her to
do so as well. You are entitled to be present when we caution her."
-----000-----
Jim and Janet sat in a stark, neutral interview room. They had been
informed that they would have exactly 15 minutes alone with their
daughter, that they would be under visual observation all the time for
safety reasons, and that the police would not make any recordings of any
kind. Nor would the police be able to listen to what was said.
Two uniformed female officers brought Nancy into the room. She wore
jailhouse orange overalls and was handcuffed. Janet gasped when she saw
her. Jim and Janet waited, as instructed, for the officers to remove her
handcuffs and leave. They then rushed to her and hugged her.
Nancy sobbed. Janet sobbed. Jim sobbed.
"Are you okay?" Janet asked. Nancy tried to nod in reply and sniffled.
The remaining Sanders family members sat together on the cheap chairs,
bringing the three of them close together. They held hands.
"Nancy, what happened to Paul?" Jim's voice conveyed his shock.
Nancy could not answer him. She had suggested the plan to her friends.
She had left him on the park bench. And she had discovered her brother's
body on the kitchen floor. She silently stared at her father ashamedly,
glanced at her mother guiltily, hyperventilated loudly, and collapsed
suddenly. The police intervened to provide first aid.
Twenty minutes later, an ambulance took her to the mental health unit at
the local hospital, and she was placed under constant observation to
prevent her harming herself.
THE CORONER'S OFFICE --- SUNDAY
As the Sanders were returning home, Dr. Pascale Tremblay sat back in her
chair, put her feet on her desk, and began to review the detailed
photographs and preliminary lab reports. The dictation equipment in the
examination room had thankfully worked; it often didn't.
-----000-----
The external examination revealed the following. There were two medial
forearm lacerations, the left one longer than the right. There was
significant bruising all over the body. It was present around the wrists
and on the back of the neck. After the head was shaved, further bruising
on the scalp was noted. There was additional bruising and minor
lacerations on his knees.
Once the peignoir was removed, several bruises in his abdominal area were
seen. The victim's genitals were significantly bruised. One testicle
appeared disrupted. There was significant trauma around the victim's
anus. There was localised evidence of bleeding and the secretion of other
liquid substances.
The internal examination was remarkable. The oral cavity evidenced
trauma; there were scratches on the insides of the cheeks that were not
inconsistent with fingernails. In the abdomen, there was positive fluid
and solid organ injury. In the rectum, there were numerous lacerations
and abrasions. The anal canal was severely traumatised. The mucosa of the
rectum was atypical. There were several fluids collected from the oral
cavity, gastrointestinal system, and the rectum; the fluids were not
inconsistent with human semen.
The expedient toxicology report indicated the presence of a
benzodiazepine. A more detailed analysis would come later.
-----000-----
The good doctor began drafting her preliminary report. It would be
distributed to the police and the prosecutor's office.
Provisionally, the manner of death was suicide, and the cause of death
was the cutting of the wrists. She was reluctant to move beyond those
impressions at this juncture.
She hypothesized that the victim had been drugged, abused, assaulted.
Where and precisely when were not presently determinable. The suicide
came later; he probably cut his right arm first so that he could make the
deeper, more deadly cut with it, his stronger arm. Some of the bruising
was consistent with falling off a table. Much of the bruising, however,
was consistent with being forcibly held, punched, and kicked.
She hit 'send', and off the preliminary report went.
-----000-----
The good doctor arrived home just before midnight. Her beloved wife
greeted her: "The kids missed you. I told them you'd give them a great
story tomorrow night." She kissed Pascale and went back to bed.
The good doctor sat in the darkened living room in her deathly quiet
home.
She sipped her vodka; it tasted necessary.
She stared at the TV; it wasn't on.
She tried to recall the boy's face; she did.
She tried to recall the boy's name; she did.
His were like the hundreds of other tragic faces and names: she never
forgot them.
She sipped her vodka.
THE POLICE STATION --- MONDAY
Jim and Janet arrived from the hotel. They had not been permitted into
the crime scene. After their brief visit with Nancy, they had spent many
hours on the phone in their hotel suite sadly informing their brothers,
sisters, and other family members that Paul had committed suicide.
The toughest call had been with Jim's dad, after whom Paul had been
named.
Detective Smith and another detective took Janet into one interview room.
Detective Jones and another detective took Jim into a different one. Both
interviews were similar. The police asked them of Paul's life, his
friends, his interests.
"How was Paul around his girlfriends or girls who were his friends?" He
had flirted and dreamt, Jim answered, but no, no girlfriend yet.
"How might he have come to wear women's clothing?" Janet strenuously
replied that he had never expressed any interest in any female clothing
or accessories or makeup.
"How did Paul get along with his sister and her various friends?" Both
Jim and Janet independently offered that he had been a bit of a terror.
His teasing was marked by rank immaturity, partially rooted in male
adolescence and insecurity. Assessed through an adult lens, his teasing
had not been spawned by hatred of his sister.
"Who did you leave in charge this weekend?"
"In what ways had Nancy demonstrated her ability to look after him?"
"How did Nancy feel about Paul?"
And so on, until...
-----000-----
In Janet's room:
"This will be difficult for you to hear. The early results from the
coroner's office have been received. It appears that Paul was sexually
assaulted by at least three different males. There are signs on his body
that these acts were committed against him with force."
Janet shuddered. "He was raped?" she whispered. The detective nodded.
Janet fainted.
-----000-----
In Jim's room:
"Mr. Sanders, can you think of any reason why Paul might have engaged in
homosexual activity?"
Jim instantly sat up. "No. None." He was in shock. He recalled lecturing
his son about internet porn on his computer after having discovered Paul
had been visiting well-known websites. At the time, Jim had not seen any
thing to suggest Paul was interested in anything other than heterosexual
activity; he told the police that now.
"Mr. Sanders, the autopsy discovered semen from three males in Paul's
body. Your son was sexually assaulted before he died."
"Give me a minute, please," Jim asked.
He stared at the far wall. He kept his thoughts to himself.
"Who?" he asked the police.
"We're investigating," they replied.
THE POLICE STATION --- FRIDAY
Thelma Albertson's parents sat next to her. Her lawyer sat across the
table from her.
"In a few minutes," the lawyer began, "the police are going to come in to
question you. Neither of you," he gestured to her parents, "will be
permitted to be here. I will be here."
Thelma's parents nodded.
It had been a long week for Don Albertson. The police had searched his
home and his pharmacy business. They had questioned him. They had
informed him that their investigation of him would be brought to the
attention of the Registered Pharmacists Regulatory and Review Board; it
could review and revoke his licence. He had informed his business lawyer
and his insurer. He also took the initiative to report the foregoing to
the Board.
Since last Sunday, Vickie Albertson had said nothing to her daughter. She
had remembered Thelma's requesting to have a sleepover with Nancy and
Shelley a few weeks ago; she told the police about the request. She had
remembered Thelma's joking about "getting back" at Paul; she told the
police about the joke.
And she had remembered Paul.
She had not known him well. She had known of his reputation for taunting
and pestering the girls. She had thought his actions were those of a
silly teenage jackass. She had never contemplated her daughter's
participating in any crazy scheme to drug him, to cross-dress him, and to
leave him alone in a city park at night.
Mother and daughter looked at each other.
A single look can predict a lifetime: Thelma suddenly realized that her
mother, her best friend, her best supporter in the world had deserted her
forever.
-----000-----
Shelley Burns' interview was about to end. She was terrified.
Yes, she had a lawyer sitting next to her. Yes, he seemed like a nice,
caring guy who really wanted to help her. Yes, he had advised her to say
nothing, much as he had advised for the bail hearing a few days ago. Yes,
he had explained to her how aiding and abetting another's crime
implicates one in that crime. Yes, he had objected every now and then to
the questions the two detectives had asked her.
But they had known so much! It was as though they had investigated
everything and, toying with her, just asked her questions of which they
already knew the answers.
She had tried to equivocate. She had tried to be economical. She had
tried and tried and tried this and that. Yet there had come a moment
during their questioning at which she shuddered and recognized that there
was no path of escape in front of her.
"We did it," she confessed, and proceeded to tell the detectives
everything without reservation. Once she began, her lawyer reminded her
that she did not have to say anything. Yet her detailed confession
continued.
She felt that she had completely expurgated her guilt.
She forgot that actions have consequences.
"Shelley Burns, I am placing you under arrest for the following offences:
1) criminal negligence causing death; 2) assault causing bodily harm; 3)
administering a noxious substance; 4) possession of a controlled
substance; 5) possession of stolen goods; 6) failure to report child
abuse while caring for a minor; 7) kidnapping..." There were over 15
charges when the detective finished. Thelma and Nancy had been similarly
charged.
Shelley looked baffled. "I told you everything! Can't I go home now?" she
begged.
Two uniformed female officers took Shelley away.
THE CEMETARY --- EXACTLY FIVE YEARS TO THE DAY
It was a beautiful, late Sunday summer afternoon: warm, clear skies,
brilliant sun.
Jim parked the car and got out. He went around to the passenger side and
opened the door for Nancy. He bent over and undid her seatbelt for her.
She looked up at him oddly. "Thank you, daddy." He assisted her turning
and getting out of the car. She held his arm. He closed the door.
They walked toward the section called 'Garden of Peace' in which was Lot
24, Space 7.
This was the first time Jim walked with a registered sex offender. He had
never thought that they looked like his daughter.
Nancy had been released from prison a few hours ago. Her time in 'the
system' had not been kind to her. It had a hierarchy; she had been far
from its apex.
Juvenile detention and later prison had aged her; she looked 35, not 21.
She was lifeless. The only colour on her pale skin was that of her few
visible prison tattoos. Her index and middle fingers on her left hand
were unnaturally bent; she had been prey.
Years ago, the judge had ordered her to undergo a pre-trial evaluation.
It had been determined that she: a) had not been suffering any mental
defect; and b) had been capable of appreciating the nature and quality of
her actions and knew that they had been wrong.
Following her conviction, she had been confined in 'the system' that was
inadequately designed to treat offenders like her. She had required
access to mental health personnel and services. Few people who so
calamitously contributed to their brother's doom would not. But there
were almost no resources in 'the system' to treat her.
The enormity of her mistake had crippled her soul for the past five
years, much as it would for the remainder of her ruined life.
Nancy embraced her mother for the first time in years at Paul's grave.
Janet caressed her cheek. Both women were overcome by tears. Both women
sniffled.
"How are you dear?" Janet softly asked.
Nancy mindlessly nodded her head. Jim gently took Janet's arm and slowly
led her away from the grave. Nancy would have the alone time --- here ---
that she had requested of them.
Nancy knelt in front of the headstone. She traced each letter on it. A
lonely dog barked in the distance.
"I'm sorry, little brother." She put her hands on the top of the
headstone and kissed it. "Please forgive me."
Nancy cried for she knew she would never hear his answer.
THE POLICE STATION --- THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
"Fred, I have good news and bad news. The good news," a grey-haired,
lined-face Senior Detective Smith said, "is that your DNA doesn't match
the DNA found on the security guard's body. Therefore, we won't be
pressing any charges against you in respect of the sexual assault at the
warehouse last month. You still have three charges of theft under $10,000
and possession. Maybe that's a good thing for you." Her voice trailed
off.
Fred smirked. He hadn't raped the young female security guard. He had
been too busy stealing stuff from the racks. His cohorts, however, had
raped her. The police knew nothing of his cohorts because he had remained
silent. And the DNA from the sperm in her body could not temporally link
him to the rape.
"So, we can go? You're going to release him under conditions because it
wasn't a violent crime, right?" It was a defence lawyer's textbook
request from the public defender who, a few months ago, had still been
studying those textbooks in law school.
The experienced detective ignored the quaint puppy and smiled back at
Fred.
"I did mention bad news, didn't I?" Her eyes twinkled at Fred. His
narrowed.
"My dear Fred, your DNA matched some other DNA collected 13 years ago,"
she said.
Fred said nothing. His face said nothing.
"Paul Sanders." She said his name. Fred flinched.
She pulled out two pictures from a folder.
"What's this about?" the lawyer asked diffidently.
She placed the two pictures on the desk.
The first picture was of Paul. On the autopsy table. Skin white. Eyes
lifeless. Mouth open. Makeup. Peignoir. Ponytail. Dead.
-----000-----
The second picture was of something that had ceased to exist long ago.
Janet sitting on a chair in the centre of the picture. Jim standing
behind her, his arms around the shoulders of Nancy on his left and Paul
on his right, each of whom had put a hand on their mom's shoulders.
Together. Happy. Family.
Jim's face beamed with pride, Janet's burst with love, and Nancy's with
hope.
And Paul smiled.
END
By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2020
Dottie
- 05.04.2022
- 46
- 0
Aftermath Confessions Chapter 2 of 7 Jeff and Allie
- 2 years ago
- 22
- 0
Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
- 2 years ago
- 195
- 0
