Now the next part of the story is long and somewhat complicated, I will try to elaborate to the best of my ability and as well as my memory serves. You see quite a bit happened in the next few months that would affect my life for years to come. The end of that summer break is a good a place as any to start. . .
As we had agreed my parents had me enrolled in the local high school as a sophomore. My brother Orin was enrolled along with me as he had grown tired of being home schooled and wanted a more varied social experience than was being provided to him. I'm sure his raging pubescent libido had no part to play in this decision at all. Right, now my father, being the overbearing alpha male type that he was, wouldn't allow his sons to go through high school not join some form of uber male team sport. Likely this was an attempt to bond more with his sons, or it might have been as he insisted that he was just trying to widen our perspectives to try new things. Regardless of the reason, I remember very little about the time spent on that field. My brother and I both being rather large of stature for our age were put as linemen, but we were destined to bench sit the entire season. Now I know this entire tangent might seem irrelevant but It is important for one simple reason. During the first few weeks of school the football season was already started so my brother and I had practice every day after school and double practices (or two-a-days) on Saturdays. Now in a normal persons life this would cause no problems besides a little soreness and at worst some inconveniences. As destiny would have it things would not be so easy for me. Late in August on a Saturday my brother and I attended the second football practice of the day. It was entirely unremarkable until the last half hour of practice. The coach decided that it would help our team cohesion to play a legitimate game, the defensive team versus the offensive team. My brother and I were the defensive side and tearing up the opposition. Nearing the end of practice there was a play that ended in a dog pile. Whoever it was had fumbled the football near where I was at the time and so I dove and managed to hug the ball tight to my body. Before any other thought could register I was buried in a teeming mound of humanity. I received several blows to my head of such violence that I heard several audible cracks and saw stars along with an instant headache that blossomed from the back of my head. After a few more minutes of abuse the pile was broken up and play continued. I was taken out because I could barely stand and as soon as I reached the sideline I vomited briefly. After practice that night I spent trying to care for myself but to little avail. The next day I did something rare for me, and skipped out of going to church in hopes of trying to catch some elusive sleep that had evaded me the night before because of the headache and pain. Staying home though had availed me no amount of relief and by the time my family had come home and was ready to make the trip down to my grandmothers house for the weekly dinner my pain had escalated to that of migraine level. It was my second migraine ever, migraines being a common recurrence in my family. Regardless I was convinced to join my family on the trip, mostly because I was rapidly getting worse and if I needed help no one would have been around to help. I remember the trip down being agony and experiencing motion sickness for the first time. When we had arrived my mom sent me to a bedroom in the basement to try to rest and get away from the noise and the kids playing upstairs. This plan didn't work as well as she had hoped because I was the favorite cousin of the younger children, I had always been good with little kids. As soon as mark and Kirsten arrived with their little girls they asked my mom where I was, they had new toys and wanted to show them to me to play with. My mom told them I wasn't feeling good and that I was down stairs trying to rest, she said that they could go downstairs and watch a movie but that they had to be good and quiet so I could rest. The girls agreed and proceeded to go downstairs with one of their favorite Disney movies. Everything was fine for the first half hour, but that's usually the limit of the girls attention span at that age. Porsche, the older more soiled and outspoken of the two, got bored easily and started jumping up and down on the bed apparently forgetting or ignoring both my moms reprimand to be quiet, and my grandmothers hatred of jumping on beds. Paige was always trying to impress and be like her older sister so she joined in short order. Now if you've ever had a migraine you know just how painful loud sounds and movement are. like the kind produced by two young girls jumping and laughing and screaming on a bed with you trying to rest in it. Usually I was very firm with the younger children about the rules and they would listen to me because they liked being able to play with me and because they knew they were wrong. In my condition I was in no position to be firm and a feeble reprimand was all I could muster, that was not even acknowledged by the girls. They were very headstrong and used to getting their way, well I should say Porsche was, Paige was just trying to be like her bigger sister to be accepted by her. As they continued to jump on the bed they dumped out the small amount of toys they had brought down trying to make a mess. To them it was all good fun, how could they know the pain I was in? Now its worth mentioning again that these girls were very wild and apt to do just whatever pleased them at the time. Anyone who has ever raised a child can attest to them having at least two things in common; this rebellious streak, and a certain hatred for clothing. These two were no exception and had on numerous occasions undressed themselves at home as well as public places and getting them dressed again was like pulling teeth. In an effort to further add to the mess they had thus far created this is exactly what they did now throwing the articles of clothing allover the room as they continued to bounce and sing songs. Some part of my mind that was not in excruciating pain realized that things were getting out of control. Overcoming my vertigo I got off the bed and tried to wrangle the two girls back into their clothes and clean up the mess they made. I cleaned up most of the mess and managed a semi stern voice to get the girls to behave and start to get dressed again. As I laid back on the bed I heard a call from upstairs announcing dinner was ready. I told the girls to finish getting dressed and go upstairs to dinner as soon as they were. I was mustering what little focus I had left to get up and escort them upstairs when I heard their mother come downstairs to find them for dinner. She called their names as she opened the door. My brain was in too much pain to realize this but what she saw when she walked in was this. Both of her girls were partially naked in the effort of trying to get dressed again, with me sitting on a bed that had been made when I came downstairs but that was now thoroughly thrashed. I'm sure I looked pretty haggard as the first words out her mouth were "what happened?" I just looked at here trying to muster enough willpower to answer. My response was feeble as the pain was getting worse, I told her the girls had been jumping on the bed and making a mess and that they had undressed themselves in the process. Kirsten as I have previously said was almost entirely incapable of seeing evil or wrongdoing especially in her own daughters. Before I had even finished my explanation a look of disbelief colored her face. There was no way that "her precious angels" had disobeyed both their grandmothers rules about jumping on beds and making a mess, as well as their own mother and aunt telling them to be quiet behave if they were going to go downstairs with me. She obviously didn't believe the truth but in my pain induced stupor I was about as receptive to such things as a tank is to a sneeze from a 5 year old. I stumbled past her as she went to help them get dressed, and I went to mother to see if she had any painkillers. I spent the rest of dinner sitting hunched next to y mom with my eyes closed willing the painkillers to work. We didn't linger that night and left shortly after dinner was cleaned up. I dropped in and out of consciousness on the drive home and as soon as we arrived I instantly dropped into my bed with the hope that I would feel better when I woke the next morning or risk missing school. My reprieve was short lived as my father entered my room asked me to come to the front room to talk to him and my mom. I was confused as things like this only happened when I was in trouble of some type and my sluggish brain worked slowly around the pain trying to come up with anything I had done recently that they would want to talk to me about. As I stepped into the front room with my mother I saw that there were tears in here eyes and she looked worried. My father looked stern as was normal for him in these situations. Seeing my mother cry had brought my mind into a somewhat sharper focus. My dad sat me down in a chair across from where they were sitting. I asked what was wrong. He looked at me and asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell him. A routine parenting practice to offer a chance at some measure of mercy for an admission of guilt as well as an attempt to work on a child's guilt to try to get them to admit to something the parents might not already know. I had become immune to this tactic years before and instead repeated my question trying to figure out what was wrong. My dad stared at me and asked me again, to which I answered that I had no idea what he was talking about, I honestly had no clue what was going on. He looked me in the eye for a moment and then asked me what had happened that night at grandmother's house. With my brain wrapped in what felt like a lightning bolt, barbed wire, and pure acid, I was barely able to focus enough to talk and answer coherently. I was still lost so after a second of gathering my thoughts I recounted what I had done from the time we left to the time we got back home. When I finished I asked my question again still trying to put together why they looked so grave. My father looked at straight in the eye and told me in a quiet voice that when we had gotten home there had been a message on the phone from mark the girls father, as well as one from Kirsten, my grandmother and her local police department. With a bewildered expression I asked if someone had gotten hurt. My father shook his head and told me what the messages had contained.
My uncle mark had threatened to kill me and I was being accused of two counts of rape of a minor.
While my dad was talking my tears started streaming down my mothers face. Even at my handicapped intelligence level, I realized that I was in serious trouble and things were about to get bad.
I spent the next hour or so up with my parents as they tried to call and talk some sense into my relatives. Listening to just one side of a conversation can be difficult but one of the last things I remember my mom saying is that they should take the girls immediately to the hospital to get them tested for signs, this was met with a vehement and resounding opposition which started an argument therefore at ended the conversation as she hung up the phone she said that she would see them in court.
After some reassurance that fell on deaf ears my parents sent me to bed. As I lay in bed and wondered if the police would come to arrest me, I could see the sky through my window littered with stars. There was no moon out that night, and I felt hopeless as the blackness swallowed me and I dropped into unconsciousness. . .