Part 8, Help Me
ctrlphreaque
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September 24, 1999 -- Friday
"Friends for Life Help Center, this is Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone.
"H-hel-lo?" came a tenitive reply.
"Hello, I am Annie, what's your name," she said in her nicest voice, she did not know if the caller was male or female, but she wanted to appear friendly.
"I, um, d-d-n'na th-thi-nk I, uh, h-hh-ad tt-t' g-gg-ive my n-name," the haulting male voice spoke softly, "I th-thought-t it w-was c-con-f-fi-d-dental?"
"You don't have to give your name honey and you're right the phone call is confidiental," Annie was mentally kicking herself for the slip up. She had only been at this job for a week and this was only her third real call. "I do have tell you that we can not give out any information on anyone who calls, so if you are looking for someone, I cannot help you," She knew that there had been an increasing number of men who had been calling in for help, but she did not want to be dupped into giving anything away.
"N-no, I, um, th-th-at's n-not-t..." the voice said immediately but then faultered, "I h-have a f-frien-nd who I th-thin-k is-s b-bein' a-abus-s'd. He w-w-on' ad-d-mi' it b-but I th-thin'k his-s br-broth'r b-beats-s him," he finished in a rush.
"How do you know this? Has he said anything?" Annie glanced at her list of questions. 'The stutter must not be from nervousness,' she noted on the sheet.
"N-no, l-like I s-said he w-won' s-say an'th-thin', b-but I s-see br-bruis-ses, n-new ones-s ev'r' w-w'k. He t-tries-s to h-hide 'em b-but I s-see," his voice at first high pitched then had gone quiet as if he was revealing some terrible ailment, like elderly people often do.
"Are you sure that they are not caused by normal sibling activities? Boys can rough house," she was pleased with her thinking fast on her feet.
"I n-not-t t-talkin' 'b-bout k-kids! H-he's t-twen'y y-years-s ol-l' an' he sh-shouldn'n h-have s-so m-many bl-black ey-eyes or b-bust'd l-lips-s. H-his br-broth'r h-hates-s 'im," his voice was angry and sad at the same time.
"I'm sorry, I just have to verify that our help is what is needed. So he lives with his brother?" Annie was embarassed at her flub but tried to make up for it.
"Y-yeah at h-home w-wi' th-their p-par-rents-s," he calmed down though the sadness was still there.
"Do they know about this? The parents, do they see the abuse?" she was quickly scribbling down notes.
"N-no, he h-hides-s it-t f-from 'em," his voice cracked. "L-look, um, w-wha' c-can I d-do?"
"Can you get him to call? Is he with you now? I would really like to talk --" she continued as she looked at the list of suggestions in front of her.
"N-no! He's-s a-fr-frai' his br-broth'r w-will fin' out-t, an' h-he's-s g-go'na b-be p-piss'd I c-call'd. I j-jus' w-wan' to h-help 'im," he said fiercely, then after a pause he added in a more quiet tone, "H-he's-s ash-sham'd he c-can'na do an'thin' 'bout-t it-t. He th-thin's th-this k-kin'na thin' o-only h-hap'ns-s t' w-weak an' h-helples-s, wo-women an' ch-chil'rn, n-not-t g-guys."
"Sir, this is not something that happens to just one type of people, anyone can be a victim if someone else has power over them," she attempted to get through the sterotype that society had hammered into people's minds. "If I could talk to him..."
"L-look, um, I g-got'a g-go," he sounded distracted.
"Please, just stay on the line," Annie tried one more time but she knew she was talking to dead air.
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