The Road Not Taken by Treyvan
Copyright 2005 by the author, all rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical without written permission by the author which can be contacted at treyvan@gmail.com. If you feel this story is good enough to be posted on your site, please email me and immediate permission will be given.
This for the most part is a fictional story involving youth/youth romantic relations, that could contain sexually explicit material. This material is intended for mature and adult audiences, so do not read it if you are not of age, or if your country and or region prohibits such acts.
Now with that out of the way, on to the story :)
The Road Not Taken Chapter 1
I found myself once again sitting in a courtroom, surrounded by police officers whose only job was to make sure I didn't disappear again. The court had reason to worry since disappearing had been one of the finer aspects of my life. Whether it is from the cops, foster families, or whoever else had their sights on me, it didn't matter. I'd find a way to getaway until they caught up with me. This last round of cat and mouse I had managed to stay gone for about two weeks before they tracked my ass down and hauled me back in.
This time around they didn't appear to be taking any chances, considering the cuffs on my hands and the chains and shackles around my ankles. I stood there waiting for the judge to appear wearing a dark blue jump suit with a white undershirt they had provided once they had my clothes and other 'personal property' taken away. I didn't have to wait long. No sooner than my armed security force had me properly settled than a door opened and the man of the hour, entered carrying folders and headed for his position on the bench.
The bailiff wasted no time in formally requesting that we all rise as he introduced Judge Benjamin Dilling who would be honoring us with the swift axe of justice just has he had done time after time before. I regretted being in this particular courtroom since this was not my first encounter with Judge Dilling. To be honest I had lost count long ago on how many times I had been in this position and apparently so had he.
"Austin Sharpe..." He began as he heaved a huge sigh, casting a doubtful look in my direction. I remained quiet as he continued to stare me down.
"Enough is enough young man. This here is the absolutely last stop before juvenile hall. After looking over this 'latest' report in the growing stack you have against you I am forced to follow the recommendations of the social workers that have interacted with you and oversaw your case. From this moment forward you are hereby released to the County boy's ranch for rehabilitation and care until either this court sees fit that you have changed your ways, or until you turn 18 years of age. If you should reach age 18 without setting foot before me again, you will be placed on probation for a period of 1 year until your 19th birthday. If you step out of line during that probationary period, or during your stay at the ranch, you will be brought before me for final sentencing and that, my young friend is the end of the road for you."
Before I had a chance to reply the all too familiar sound of the gavel echoed throughout the room and as so many times prior I was ushered out under the direction of the guards. I went through the standard process of... well being processed, which usually took several hours. I wasn't required to do much. Just sit there and allow others to decide how my near future would pan out. I mostly just stared at the floor and answered an occasional question or two as people worked around me filling out paper work.
I was used to this and really I was just at the point where I didn't care what happened to me anymore. I knew before I ran away the last time that this would probably spark the beginning of my end and I just didn't care. I had pretty much been under the care of the state of Texas since I was 10 years old. My life after that point has been one disappointment after another, although that got a little worse with age. I never knew who my dad was and my mother merely kept me around so she could collect welfare checks and food stamps, which she used on booze and drugs most of the time. Occasionally she bought food and maybe a shirt or two when I started to look a little too ragged.
During those years of my life, I pretty much stayed out of my mom's way. With the drink and the drugs she turned into a somewhat violent person that often needed to physically take stuff out on something or someone and more often then not I was that object. Once when I was 8 she came home from only God knows where, just mad at everything in general. I could tell she was high and drunk and I tried to hide from her in my closet. When she went through the house breaking anything she could get her hands on and decided she wanted to fight with something that would fight back.
I lay curled up against the wall, shaking with fear trying not to make any noise hoping that she would pass out and just leave me alone. Fate had other ideas. She dragged me out of that closet by the neck and carried me until we reached her room, then she just threw me against the floor and started cursing. I don't really remember what she was saying because I was scared shitless, she did make some comments about my dad, whoever he was and that I was just as useless as he was even though at that time I didn't even have the chance to prove her wrong.
That pretty much became a nightly occurrence for two years until one night she beat me so bad I had two fractured ribs and nearly ended up with a collapsed lung. The welfare department swooped in and took me away, almost immediately placing me into foster care. At first things were all right and then the novelty of a new kid wore off and with everything else my life went down hill. The main problem was with the foster families children. They were all older than me and often played jokes on me. As time passed the jokes got less funny and more dangerous and again I ended up back in the hospital with minor injuries but from then on I was scarred.
Social Services bounced me from one place to another until I just started running away. I was tired of being abused, of being in the way. I was tired of being a target and a victim. Now I seemed to be a victim of the system. Chained and cuffed like a criminal. I didn't like doing what I had to do but hell what else was I supposed to do. 'Take it like a man?'
I started running away when I was 13. I guess it was the trips to the Emergency room I was tired of the most. You would be as well if you went as many times as I did. And still the 'System' wasn't getting the hint. I was the one that was to blame for everything that happened. People stopped listening to what I had to say a long time ago and now just went by the words on the paper work that followed me around like a shadow. And now it was happening again.
My thoughts were interrupted when Decarlas Thompson, the creator of my hell strolled into the room I was sitting in. She was the social worker that I had been dealing with since she was the one that rescued me from my mom. Don't get me wrong I know she had my best interests at heart but I wasn't sure how long I could keep doing this before I finally just snapped.
I think deep down she did understand what was going on and she really did want to help, to see me succeed. It's just that situations started that no one could control and I did what I had to do to keep myself safe. Run away.
"Austin. Are you alright?" She asked softly as she sat at the table across from me. I merely just looked at the floor and nodded. I really didn't know what to say. So I just stayed quiet. Decarlas stayed with me until a uniformed guard showed up at the door to the cramped interviewing room I had spent most of the day in. He informed us that the transportation to the Ranch was ready and that they would be moving me momentarily. Decarlas talked to the guard, getting the details for the transfer and he left.
"I'm going to be going with you on this one Austin. I really hope you heed the Judge's warning this time. He's given you chances he really doesn't give anyone else. Then again you really aren't a bad kid. Just a little lost and you need to find your way."
I almost smiled at those words but still remained silent. I figured since I've come this far I'd just allow whatever to happen as long as it didn't physically injure me this time.
Soon both Decarlas and I left the room under escort from the same guard I had seen earlier. I was still wearing those shackles so the walk was rather slow and my ankles were starting to ache. We were led out of the building to a white van that belonged to the corrections facility. The driver was already waiting with the engine going. At the back of the van sat two other guards who looked half asleep. The sun had long since gone down and I was getting rather tired myself.
The side doors to the van were open and beside them stood yet another guard. This one was carrying a clipboard and was taking a moment to scribble his notes down. Decarlas approached him and handed him the folder that contained the ruling from the judge, plus some of the other forms that had been filled out earlier.
He gave it the standard glance over to make sure that everything was in order before nodding at Decarlas and then he turned his attention to me.
"This van will be you're transportation to the ranch. It is owned by the Corrections Department and as such we have rules you will follow during this trip. One)- no distracting movements that may or may not impede the driver's ability to operate this vehicle. Two)- you are not allowed to speak to the guard staff unless you are spoken too. Three)- you will not do anything that will vandalize this vehicle, no gum chewing, no marking on the interior and definitely no ripping the seats. You will be allowed to speak to your case worker whenever you wish and we will determine the appropriate timing for breaks and rest stops." He marked an item off his checklist.
"You may now board the vehicle." He said without looking at me. It was apparent that the handcuffs and the shackles were not going to be removed, or they would have done so by now. With a sigh and some assistance from Decarlas I ducked into the van and slid along the bench seat towards the window. She entered behind me and took her place next to the door, which then was closed.
The stiff guard that had read me the 'instructions' opened the passenger door at the front of the van and slid into the passenger seat, continuing to make notes on his clipboard as the driver picked up the microphone for the radio.
"Dispatch, 2460 is loaded and ready to roll." The driver said, before he released the mic button. The radio squelched and the response was received a second or two later. "Copy that 2460, have a nice trip." The driver stuck the mic back onto his metal hook and put the van in gear.
I just kept my eyes fixed to the window, watching the surroundings with my chin resting on my fist. I felt a somewhat reassuring hand pat my knee. Briefly I turned to face Decarlas and nodded to her before returning my attention back to the window. Outwardly, this really didn't bother me. I was used to it, used to the visits, used to the guards. Inwardly though I wanted something better. I was better than this and here I was at no fault of my own. I did what I did to just make it stop. This was my last chance, hopefully it would be better then the other ones.
I watched the corrections center slowly pull away as the van exited the grounds. Soon we were on the highway, which for this part of west Texas was quite, sparse. It wasn't long though until I felt the hand of sleepiness tapping at my head. It had been a long day and at least now it was finally over.
I thought I heard Decarlas ask me a question as we drove on, unfortunately I didn't hear, nor reply to it because I was fast asleep.
To be continued...
Well, that's it for chapter one. Chapter two is already written, and three is half done so if you like what you read, please do email me at treyvan@gmail.com to let me know what you think. :)