And Chapter 17, what I would refer to as the end of Part 1,
I don't own copyright.
Chapter 17
A month passed quickly, my arm healed slowly but, as predicted, the cast came off after three weeks. It took a further two days to get used to moving both arms once again though.
The half term was only two weeks away. It was Tuesday, March the 15th. The weather was the same, the people were the same, the buildings and sidewalks were deteriorating. Nothing much had changed in the month after The Fanatics makeshift church was raided by the police.
The rumours died down quickly when the headline 'Police Raid on Local Cult Reveals A Shocking Discovery.' Written by none other than 'James Dewitt' AKA Lucas's Thorne. I didn't know what specifics in the piece were true, they had been following people but I didn't think they were sacrificing children to God, as it had been stated in the local paper.
I was surprised at how many people in school believed the story,then again, many of the students were gullible teenagers with the lust for intense blood and gore that stemmed from movies, books and games. At least a craving for exaggeration, true gore and viscera would have turned anyone green in the face and stomach. The talk around school had been so unrealistic it would have
put most gore flicks to shame.
I could not blame anyone though, had the newspapers been correct and The Fanatics - Dubbed: The Church of Our Lord And Saviour - had been participating in the vilest of ceremonies, and then it would only be natural to blow it out of proportion. Or face the harsh, horrifying brutality and reality.
I didn't believe it. Lucas, or James, had brought up missing people's cases from all around the state, and the neighboring ones, saying 'The cult is believed to be part of a large organisation that the police are searching to eradicate immediately.' Such events could not be so intertwined, or at least I hoped so, that, and Damien had flat out said it was all a bunch of lies. No matter how true though, Damien had said, and shown, that his father had made even the most unrealistic article turn over a pretty penny. Somewhere in the thousands I recall, was the bonus that Lucas had gotten, the most exciting thing in North County it was. A police raid with over thirty arrests in one morning. To a Christian cult, in Christian town, in a Christian country, their 'heinous acts' were sure to catch everyone's attention.
Throughout the month, I had learned to deal with Lucas's smiling, and found him to be pleasant company if you ignored the near ever present, grin. I wouldn't have been surprised if it stayed when he slept. I also discovered he was a proficient cook, or at least better than me, but a burning forest could produce more edible meals that I could. There was a reason that I had quite the sum saved after my monthly allowances, and that was the fact that
many of my meals were either pasta, rice or a vague reminiscence of salad.
I didn't learn of Damian's mother at all, a question that had been confusing me, Damien didn't know of her and Lucas just said that she had gone away some years ago.
He remarked 'It's her fault she didn't get to see such a fine kid grow up.' I had to agree with him.
Mark was a frequent sight, drinking beer and sharing stories with Lucas. I could not tell what they had in common except that Lucas's grin normally never fell and the same was for Mark's royal, aristocratic features.
He was a nice man though, on the small occasions that we talked at least, he seemed to be fine with life staying as stagnant as possible.
'If time stopped, I don't think I'd care.' Was what he had said.
In my time with Damien, I learnt that he did not share any of his father's beliefs, that he merely stated that he had them to make his dad feel better. He wasn't scared that Lucas would tarnish him and throw him out if he outspoken against hell or even heaven. Lucas believed to indulge in sin of course, what passive sin was worse than not believing in God? But Damien cared for his dad very much, and I think it would have not broken Lucas, but Damien, if he saw his father so upset.
I kept up the tutoring with Kenneth, solely to not seem suspicious in front of his friends. I also learnt that he was not very bright with numbers, he was not simple, not at all, and for living in a poor part of town he exuded manners, charm and his so-called natural charisma, at least with strangers. He could worm his way into pretty much anything - although he said in a much, much more vulgar way - but he was low in many subjects. The only one he was good at, near remarkable even, was drama. I had not been false when I thought he was a good actor, his prowess in performing and pretending was better than anyone I had seen in person before. I would have even thought his self-belief in immortality was among one of his many acts, but that was not true. No matter how little he spoke of it, he was still caught off guard by his own mutters, remarking his many 'deaths' and 'rebirths.'
He had said, on a dark Tuesday night, that he was receiving therapy. Expensive therapy at that. Apparently, his father had used his college funds to pay, so 'he would have no mad kids.' Schizophrenia and a diminishing immortality complex was what Kenneth had. His low grades and insane sex drive meant he wasn't on the right track, but he was inching there, if that was anything.
Everything was looking up, I could call Kenneth and Damien friends, Tweek, Kyle and Stan acquaintances and Eric, Trent and many others were tormentors. None were The Fanatics though.
I was correct that the jokes and mockery would begin anew. The cults widespread 'brutality' and my broken arm had spared me the beatings though, at least for some time, I didn't know whether to be terrified or glad at that.
But none of my tormentors were The Fanatics, and I don't think I could have been happier.
