Disclaimer: Rent was created by Jonathan Larson. Someone else now has the rights to it; I'm not sure who, but not me. I'm only having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me... pretty please?
The weather was still cold and a gentle snow was falling. Mark got to the car and started it, letting it warm up. He motioned to Roger to stay put as he took the snow brush from the back seat and cleared the windows of snow. By the time he was done, the engine was warm enough that he didn't have to fear it stalling. Mark drove very carefully to the police station downtown. The roads were a bit slippery and it wouldn't do to get into an accident. He parked in the lot across the street from the station and then walked to the counter holding Roger's hand.
A police sergeant was waiting there. He was a bit surprised to see them, considering the weather. "How may I help you, boys?" he asked.
Mark nudged Roger to respond.
"I... um..." The words caught in Roger's throat. He tried again. "I need to report a crime," he managed in a slightly strangled whisper.
The sergeant reached for a form on the desk behind the counter. "What is the nature of the crime?" he said in a bored tone. He hoped it wasn't someone witnessing a strange shadow in the yard or something like that.
Roger glanced at Mark and realized that he would again have to answer. "Um, it's um," he babbled, then managed, "statutory rape."
That made the sergeant look twice. "Are you the minor in question?" He asked. At Roger's nod he asked, "How old are you and when did the offense occur?"
"Seventeen. Three years ago through two weeks ago." Okay. This part, Roger thought, was easier. All he had to do was answer questions, just give facts, and that wasn't too hard.
The sergeant made a note. "When's your birthday? Technically, it's only statutory rape until you're seventeen."
"I was seventeen three weeks ago." Did that matter? Roger wondered. He hoped it didn't. It was still a crime, right?
"That's fine. It just gives me the time frame of the crime. What's the accused's name?" The sergeant thought for a moment. "And his approximate age. There's a clause that says that consent can occur between minors if the accused is within 4 years of age of the complainant."
"He's older than that. Thirty... thirty-two. Robert Evans." Roger tried to think of other helpful information, but he realized he didn't even know Robert's address. He hadn't really been outside, unless he was locked out, in years.
"Do you have an address or phone number for this guy?" the sergeant asked. When Roger shook his head, Mark pulled out his business address book that he had grabbed from his briefcase. The Sergeant filled in the information and nodded. "OK. Now what's your name?" he asked Roger.
Roger nearly said 'Roger Davis', he was so used to his new name. "Joshua Roger Feinberg. F-e-i... yeah." He watched the Sergeant copy it down.
The sergeant looked at the name. For some reason, it seemed vaguely familiar. He recorded Roger's address, phone number and date of birth, then read over the sheet. "Ok. Now it says we need someone to take your statement. That can be me or a detective or whoever. You just have to go and tell the details like when it first happened and where, and then how often. You can have a lawyer with you if you want, but it isn't necessary since you're the one reporting the crime." He looked at the sheet again. "Do you want to tell me or someone else?"
Roger shook his head. "Anyone." Then it occurred to him that they said he could have a lawyer present. They hadn't mentioned family and friends. "W-would it be ok if Mark stayed with me?" he asked. This would be a lot harder alone.
The sergeant blinked, then checked his procedure book. "Yeah, that's fine. Let's go in back to one of the more private rooms. It'll be more comfortable, and then you don't have to tell a bunch of private stuff where anyone can hear you." He stood up and indicated for Roger and Mark to walk through a half door into the area behind the counter. He then picked up an ancient tape player. "You mind if I record your statement? I don't write so fast and then you don't have to repeat everything for me."
"That's fine." Roger sat down. "Just tell me where to start."
The Sergeant sat down opposite Roger and started the tape. "This is Sergeant Michael O'Ryan. The date is November 23, 1993. Please state your name for the record." Roger stated his name and spelled it out as well. "Just tell what happened. How did you meet the accused, Robert Evans?"
"We dated," Roger admitted. "After a while he started saying that I should... that if I really loved him I would, you know, let him do things to me. So I did. It hurt and I told him to stop and he didn't. I'm not sure if that counts. I moved in with him after my parents kicked me out." He had said this all before, to Mark, so it wasn't too difficult. When Mark hadn't heard the story, it became more difficult. "He... he told me... he made me let him do things all the time. I told him not to but he wouldn't stop. It... um..." He sighed and shook his head.
Sergeant O'Ryan stopped him for a moment. "What do you mean by things?" he asked.
"Sex mostly. Or... uh... sucking..." He didn't know how to put it into words properly.
"Do you remember the date when he first had sex with you?"
Roger shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know that... I was fourteen... no. I was thirteen. The day before my birthday."
"How many times would you say you had sex from that first time until your seventeenth birthday?"
"I don't know. Probably hundreds. He um. He basically, he, he, um, ah... well, he liked sex. But things weren't always bad. He had really good periods when we would be happy. Last summer for example. We barbequed and had campouts on the porch and he said he loved me. But he was scared I would abandon him, so I wasn't allowed to go outside."
Sargent O'Ryan flipped a page and added 'Forced confinement' to the list of charges. "In the three years you were together, did he let you leave the property at all?"
Roger shook his head. "Not until a few weeks ago. I had to see a doctor."
"Were you able to contact anyone in that time? Your family, for example?"
He shook his head again. "He... he kind of... um... he said they wouldn't want me. You can only hear that so many times..."
Mark took Roger's hand and squeezed it. He didn't let go. Sergeant O'Ryan went back to the list of questions. "Did he injure you physically in any way?"
"Only if I deserved it." Roger knew that Robert hadn't made the best life choices, but...
"What do you mean by deserved it? What actions would provoke him?"
"Just, just basic stuff. And it was only when he was in a bad mood, when things were good he didn't, but sometimes..." Roger took a deep breath and thought back. "Okay. If I did something stupid like burned dinner or starting crying during... um... intercourse, he really didn't like that. Or the time I, um, I called-- somebody. He really didn't like this person and... I shouldn't've..." He was afraid to tell too much. Roger knew he was bad, but if he told the police would they think he had deserved what he got?
Sergeant O'Ryan tried to remain calm and get through the interview. He knew that he couldn't show any emotions or give any opinions until he was finished, but he was already appalled about what this poor boy went through. Unfortunately, if he tried to offer comfort, that could be misinterpreted on the transcription and result in the statement not being admitted. "What kind of injuries did he cause, and were these documented anywhere?"
"Well he... there was a burn." Roger rolled up his sleeve to display the scar. He pushed his sleeve up further. "These are from a knife from the kitchen. I have some scars on my back. Mark-- he's a doctor-- he said my arm has been broken a few times."
Sergeant O'Ryan made a note. "I need to photograph the scars, and could you sign this release for your medical records to be opened?" He left the room and came back with a camera and took the pictures of the scars. He then went back to the interview questions. He had exhausted the main ones for statutory rape, but moved onto a list of domestic violence related ones as well. "In general, how were you treated? Describe a typical day for you."
"It... depends. I tried to keep the place clean. I like things clean, and he hates messes, so it worked pretty well. He came home around 6, so that's when I had dinner ready. We ate... well usually. Sometimes I had been bad, so I didn't eat. Assuming we're talking about bad days, sometimes he watched TV and got drunk. He watched sports, so I only watched if he asked me to. I watched cartoons and stuff during the day. Then we usually had sex and went to bed. Again, unless I had been bad, then I might sleep on the floor or outside on the porch. But he only put me on the porch if things were too dangerous for me inside," Roger added. This part was very important to him. The porch was protection, not punishment.
"Can you explain about things being too dangerous?"
"Sometimes Robert couldn't control himself. He's... he's not well, mentally, and he doesn't like his medication, but if he knew he would be dangerous--violent, angry--he would put me on the porch so I was safe."
The police officer made a few more notes, then looked back at Roger. "Is there anything more you wish to add or explain further?"
Roger shook his head. "That's a good sample of information, I think." He didn't want to or feel the need to go into all the details. It had been unpleasant enough the first time.
"When did this end?"
"About two weeks ago, after I moved in with Mark. I--" Roger began, then paused. "I saw Mark for a broken arm. He fixed it, but he thought something was wrong. He gave me his number and I called him once, but then after he called back I... I was punished. For calling Mark. Robert really hates him. I loved Robert-- I thought I did-- but I got scared. I broke out of his place and went to Mark's."
Mark decided he needed to interject something here. "When he arrived at my place, he wasn't wearing any clothes. It was that really rainy night two weeks ago."
Sergeant O'Ryan nodded. "Is that true? Did he often take your clothing away?"
"W-- well--" Roger looked between him and Mark, not sure how to answer. "Only when there was a reason."
"A reason?"
"Like... so I couldn't leave."
"How often would that happen, and why would he do that?"
"I don't know. Not very often. He was scared I would leave him... I didn't think I would."
The sergeant realized he had one more point he wanted to clarify. "You said that you were punished for calling Mark. What was this punishment and why were you so scared?"
"I was afraid that he wasn't in control of himself anymore," Roger said. Given that Robert was in control of him, that was a terrifying sensation.
"The punishment?" O'Ryan reminded him.
He sighed, angry with himself. Roger had hoped to avoid explaining this. "He put me in the shower and turned on the cold water," he said.
"And then..." the police officer prompted. He knew there had to be more.
"No and then. He tied me there and left."
"How long did he leave you for?"
"It felt like a long time."
O'Ryan had nothing further to say, so he ended the tape by stating the time. Since Mark was in the room, he signed a document stating that he had witnessed the interview, and Roger signed one saying the testimony was freely given.
Mark shook O'Ryan's hand. "What happens now?" he asked.
O'Ryan said, "I'll send this to one of the stenographers and have it transcribed. Then it will go to a grand jury and they'll determine if we have enough evidence to charge the bastard with anything. Personally, I think we do. I've seen people arrested on less. You should be hearing from us in a day or so."
Mark thanked the officer and he and Roger left the station.
Roger walked close to Mark, closer than societal standards allowed. He didn't care. Mark made him feel safe, and safe was where he wanted to be. Part of Roger was sure he had done right by turning in Robert. Part of him knew that now, another boy or man wouldn't be lured, fall in love and become Robert's plaything. But there was another part of Roger, and this part of him was worried. This part of him still loved Robert.
He wanted to ask, in a small voice, We did the right thing, right? But instead he settled on what he knew was right, his own way of saying thank you, showing his appreciation as best he could: "If they arrest him then... then we'll do the x-rays as soon as there's time. If you still want to."
Mark lay his arm across Roger's shoulders. "As soon as he's not at work, we'll get it done. I'll make time for you. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you." Roger didn't know if he meant for the x-rays or the pride or the support or all three at once. "They'll probably arrest him, right?" he asked.
Mark nodded. "From what you said in there, they probably can charge him with more than statutory rape, but that's the easiest one to prove. I just don't know when they'll make the arrest."
Roger nodded to show he understood. "Th-they wouldn't... have to talk to my parents, would they?" he asked, nervous. He didn't want his parents knowing about what had happened to him.
Mark frowned. "I really don't know." He hugged Roger again. Then a thought came to him. Roger had given his real name in the station. "Roger, do you think your parents would have reported your disappearance to the police when you first moved out?"
"I-I don't know," he admitted. "They... my dad told me to leave. But we were fighting. I don't know." He wanted to think his parents would have looked for him, but he had no proof of that.
Mark tried to pick his words carefully, because he had just thought of a possible consequence of reporting Robert. "If they did, the police may contact your parents to tell them they've heard from you."
Roger went cold. It was like the blood had just drained from his body. "B-but... they... they're... w-would they, they wouldn't... tell my parents?" he asked, hoping it was true. His parents couldn't know. It would kill them.
Mark really didn't have an answer. He wasn't aware of police policy or anything. "I don't know, Roger. Maybe that's something we could ask the lawyer. I'll call him when we get home."
"I don't want them to know," Roger said softly. It would be better for them to think he was just a total jerk than to know.
Mark could understand that. Roger didn't want to appear weak or a victim, even though what he went through was not his fault. "I know... but if they did find out, I don't think they'd blame you. You weren't the one who did anything wrong."
"If they found out..." He knew he must pick his words carefully. The thought never crossed his mind, that his parents might be angry with him--for leaving yes, but for what happened with Robert, no. It would hurt them. They cared about him. They would be hurt.
He changed the subject. "If I go out--is that okay? If I leave you a note or, or call you and tell you where I've gone?"
Mark nodded. "Yes, I'm not going to keep you locked in the house. Just let me know where you're going and when you expect to be back. Then I know whether to worry or not." He wanted Roger to feel free to come and go as he chose.
"Okay." Roger didn't tell Mark where he had intended to go, partly because he wondered if Mark would ask. Just how much freedom did he have? Roger wanted to know, and the only way he could think to find out was to test those limits.
Mark got to the car first and opened the locks. He had to warm it up and scrape it off again. The snow had continued when they were in the station. Once they had the car cleared and they were on the road, Mark tried to bring up the subject of Roger's family again. "You know, you may want to call home and talk to someone there before the police do. At least talk to Adam and see if there was a report filed, just so we can know what to expect."
He considered that. Adam would know, any of his siblings would, but that would lead to questions he didn't know how to answer. And Adam asked a lot of questions. "Maybe I could call when they aren't home," he whispered. It was awful... but a message on the answering machine was better than nothing, wasn't it?
Mark nodded. "You should do that before I call the lawyer. You never know when the police would call them. I won't hide you from them, but I'll make sure they respect your wishes when it comes to contacting you, OK?"
"Ok," Roger whispered. How had he come to this, hiding himself, too scared to see his own parents? Roger stared out the window at the blurs in darkness, wishing he could disappear. He had done this. When time came to parcel out the blame, he had done this. He let Robert do things to him. He left home. This was of his making and look how it hurt those around him. Everyone.
Mark knew Roger was having a rough time, so he reached over and grabbed his hand and held it for the rest of the way home. They didn't say anything until Mark pulled into the driveway and they entered the house. Mark indicated the phone. "Do you want me to leave you alone to make your call?" he asked.
"It's all right if you want to stay," Roger told him. He honestly did not mind. Having Mark there might make this easier, and he certainly had no secrets from Mark by this point. He picked up the telephone and dialed his parents' number. By the second ring, Roger's face was flushed red.
"Hello?"
He winced. He had been hoping no one would answer. Roger's throat was dry. He forced himself to swallow and managed, "Adam? Um, it's, it's Josh. Is Mom or Dad there?" Adam replied that they were and without asking went to find them.
"Hello?" said Roger's mother. "Who is this?"
Roger didn't know what to say. He clutched the receiver tightly, like she might go away. He was sweating so hard the grip was awkward. "Mommy?" he whispered, almost below her hearing.
"Joshua?" Her voice was laden with disbelief. "Joshua? Is that really you?"
Roger nodded. "Yes," he managed. He was surprised to find that he was crying, and his throat was thick. He sank to the floor, still clutching the phone. "It-- I-- how are you?" he asked, then couldn't stop a sob of laughter at the inane question
Annie Feinberg's eyes started to overflow with tears at the sound of her missing son's voice. "I–I've been better," she admitted. Her voice was wavering. "Joshua, where are you? Where have you been? I've missed you so much!"
"I'm okay. I missed you, too, Mommy." He'd stopped calling her 'mommy' when he was ten years old, and suddenly the name was back and he could think of no alternative. "I'm staying with Mark Cohen, remember Mark?"
Annie did remember him, considering they had been at the Cohens' for dessert last week. "Yes, the doctor, right?" She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Have you been there all this time, Joshua?"
"No. No, just since two weeks ago, I... please don't ask, Mommy. I'm okay now."
Annie brushed the tears from her eyes. The 'now' implied that he hadn't been okay before, but she didn't want to push it. "Can I see you, Joshua? Do you want to come home?"
"I... I don't know," he admitted. "After all that's happened..." He couldn't go back to living at home, and he knew that. There would be questions he couldn't answer and too many people wanting all of him at once. He would need to go to work or school, and he wasn't ready for that. "Maybe I could meet you somewhere?"
"Yes, that would be good. When and where?" Annie's heart broke a little that her baby boy didn't want to come home, but at least he wanted to see her.
"A-anywhere. Maybe we could meet for lunch or something?" he suggested. He knew his parents could take time off work when needed--his father was a lawyer and his mother a doctor in private practice, both able to take breaks if needed.
"How about TGI Friday's at one tomorrow? That used to be your favorite." It would be fairly easy to schedule a break at that time.
Roger smiled that his mom remembered that. He had gone through a cheeseburger phase when he was about six, eating cheeseburgers any time they went out, and his dad always teased him for picking TGI Friday's as his favorite. He didn't know that he could stomach a cheeseburger at this point but he didn't care. His parents hadn't forgotten him.
"Okay, Mommy. Do you think... do you think Daddy will want to come?" He was almost afraid to ask. He'd said some pretty awful things the last time he and his dad spoke.
"Of course he would. He misses you, Joshua. He's been beside himself since you disappeared."
"Is he still mad at me?"
"No, honey. He was at first, but when you didn't come back, he was heartbroken. He'll be very happy to see you."
Roger nodded. "Okay. Okay, I'll be there. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart. I'm so glad you called. It was an answer to my prayers." Annie wiped a tear from her eye and tried to keep her voice steady. "I prayed every night that you'd return to us."
"I can't come home," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I love you. I want to see you, I hope you still want to see me..." He needed a lot of space, and in a family of six...
Annie sniffed. Again, she felt like an arrow was piercing her heart, but at least her son was back in her life. A half-hour ago, she hadn't known if he were alive or dead. "Of course I want to see you! And you know you'll always be welcome at home if you ever do wish to return."
Roger knew that tone. He knew she wasn't happy. "I'm not who I was," he whispered. If only, somehow, he could erase the last few years and be her little boy again, he would.
Annie tried to respond to that, but the words wouldn't come. After a few false starts, she managed to speak, her voice wavering with the words. "I–I'll still l-love who you've become."
Roger had to put the phone down for a moment and cry, shaking. No, she wouldn't. And she seemed to know that she wouldn't. When he finally picked up the phone again his mouth was a mess of snot and spit. "I-I have to go now, Mommy. Mark needs to use the phone. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"
"Yes, Joshua. I'll see you then. Thanks for calling." She was about to hang up but quickly added a whispered "I love you."
"I love you, too," he said, then hung up. He went into the kitchen for a moment and washed his face, but he couldn't stop crying. He returned to the living room for a moment and stood, sniffling, trying to wipe his face on his hand. "I wanna hit myself," he murmured.
Mark stood up and took Roger into his arms. "Thanks for telling me. I know that was hard for you. You didn't do anything bad, though. Your family is going to be very happy to see you again." He kept Roger in his embrace and rubbed his back in soothing circles.
Roger pressed himself close against Mark and cried onto him. He wished he could think of a way to stop hurting people, but everything he did caused more and more pain to those around him, those he loved. "They want me to go home," Roger whispered, "but I can't go home, I can't go back, Mark, I'm sorry for the position this puts you in..."
Mark knew the situation would be awkward, but made a commitment to keep Roger's best interests at heart. He wondered briefly if Roger's parents could legally force him home, since he was under eighteen. It was another question he would have to speak to the lawyer about. He added it to his mental list. "Roger, my main concern is you. I know your parents may get angry at me, but I'm on your side. I'm there for you, understand?"
Roger nodded. "Uh, uh-huh," he stammered. He wiped his mouth on his hand. Later it would occur to him to be grateful. Now he just wanted to sit down. "Mark… Mark, do you want to do something silly?"
"What?" Mark asked, not understanding what Roger meant. Something silly?
"Why don't we just, sit down and have cookies and hot chocolate? Like normal people on a cold night?" Roger looked down. "Does that sound dumb?"
Mark smiled. He reached out for Roger's hand. "That sounds wonderful."
to be continued!
Reviews would be very much appreciated