Brush Creek Charlie by D. B. Reynolds (which ebook reader .txt) 📖

digging deep enough to have his skin underneath my nails. It was a miracle that I was able to slide my mouth to the middle of his arm and bite the living hell out of this crazy sonofabitch. Once he threw his arm back, I screamed from the top and bottom of my lungs. Blood from his arm dripped onto my bed sheets. After screaming for more than a minute, neighbors from the first floor ran upstairs to see what was happening. My attacker, my potential rapist, he jumped off the second floor balcony and one of my first floor neighbors saw him running off down the street.”
The applauses grew louder and more aggressive. Sheena was the victorious underdog. How good it felt to her support group for her attacker to have come up emptyhanded.
“See ladies, we do have stories with advantageous endings,” Sandy marveled behind, bowing her head with ultimate joy. “We now open the floor again for someone to share their story.”
Loretta Fredericks wanted her voice to be heard. One of only three African-American women in attendance, she tightened her fists and shut both eyes. Her emotions had taken over. When she opened her eyes, she saw other sets of of sympathetic eyes watching her.
“Let me say this first,” Loretta gloated from anger. “A rapist cannot be rehabilitated. If they rape once, they’ll rape again and again. I have a story that I’d like to share that I believe all of you ladies can learn from. This lowdown dirty unrighteous dog who raped me came in through my first floor window. He’d made his way up to the second floor bedroom where myself and my set of four year old twin daughters were sleeping. I just happened to awake and saw him standing over my bed wearing a mask that he’d made out of one of my twins’s T-shirt. My God, I thought me and my twins were going to die. He and I fought for awhile, and then suddenly the phone rang. One of my twins picked up the phone and he kicked her in the chest. I told my daughter to put the phone down before he’d do something bad to her. He then took a straight razor and cut me across my left cheek.”
Loretta paused momentarily to catch her breath. Other attendees observed as they were shown the nasty scar on her left cheek. A deep gash could’ve better described the mark which had layers of much epidermis missing.
“I had to have fifty stitches in my face,” Loretta continued, emotions running loose around the house. “I continued to fight him and he grabbed one of my twins by her ponytail. He threatened to cut her throat if I didn’t do as he told me. He proceeded to rape me for the next few hours. Things only got worse when he decided to tie me up and burn me repeatedly on my back with cigarettes. During the whole time I was tied up, he drank all the liquor in the house and fed both of my twins cereal. Recently, I’ve met other women he’s assaulted and have labeled this man as being an absolute dangerous sex offender.”
Applauses for Loretta vibrated throughout the house. She and others couldn’t hold back the tears built up deep inside them. Their anger flared up hotter than several erupting volcanoes.
“Loretta, we appreciate you sharing your tragic story with us,” Carol commended, beaming with great pride. “Now Sandy has a story she’d like to share with all of us.”
Sandy positioned herself at the core of the front room.
She gathered her thoughts before speaking. “Ladies, it wasn’t too long ago that my dog Bolo and I went for a nightly walk through Brush Creek. From out of nowhere, there came a strange man, someone with a badly-pitted face and black rotted teeth. After listening to him talk, I could tell that he was some shellshocked Vietnam veteran who was obsessed with Brush Creek. His exact words described Brush Creek as being the greatest historical piece of American landmarks. When I spotted him holding a sharp piece of glass, that’s when I sicked my dog Bolo on him. Bolo rushed him for an attack. My canine protector was at a sole disadvantage since this psycho bastard knew how to kill everything from humans to animals. He sliced Bolo up like an animal in a slaughterhouse. When he rushed me, I kicked and scratched and grabbed him by what I thought were his private parts. This man didn’t even have any privates down there and I found it mind boggling. He ran away when he knew he couldn’t take advantage of me. My story is sort of parallel to the woman’s story we saw on the dvd. It was tragic for her to be cut severely with a broken whiskey bottle. The four men who raped her should’ve been given surgical castration and life without parole. Why this man didn’t have a penis or scrotum is something I’ll never know.”
“Did you notify the police about this maniac?” asked Bonnie Arthurs, one of the more boisterous feminists among the group.
Sandy looked away in shame. “No, no, I didn’t notify anyone about it.”
“Why not, Sandy? That sadistic sonofabitch could be out there right now raping and killing some other woman.”
“And you’re right, Bonnie. Like Loretta said, they’ll rape again and again, and they won’t stop until they’re either caught by the police or somebody kills them.”
“I’m not trying to beat up on you, but you should’ve notified the authorities about this jerk.”
“Not doing so, it makes me feel nothing but guilt and shame. The trauma behind the whole situation left me speechless and confused. Thank God there’s Carol around to buffer me and show me the love and support someone needs in times of crisis.”
Carol reached for a recent copy of “The Kansas City Times”. The front of the daily Kansas City Newspaper read: JOGGER FINDS MUTILATED BODY IN BRUSH CREEK.
All eyes moved the same direction when Carol flashed the newspaper before them.
Their minds quickly processed the information.
Their hearts grieved as their eyes watered from sympathy. What a shame to read about the condition the victim was found in.
“Ladies, this is why we can never be too careful,” Carol reminded the attendees. “This is why we have to keep our eyes on everyone. From the bums, winos, crackheads, gangbangers, even to the bankers and businessmen wearing expensive business suits driving Mercedes and BMWs, we have to keep watchful eyes on everyone. When you drive into gas stations and convenience stores at night, look all around you. When you pull into ATM machines and fast food drive-thrus, look all around you. When you’re going to pick up your family and friends, look all around you. Whether it be day or night, look around you for potential muggers and rapists.”
“Carol’s right, ladies,” Sandy confirmed. “No matter where you’re at, always be watchful. This woman found mutilated in Brush Creek had been assaulted and dismembered at the limbs and stuffed into trashbags.”
“This may sound like a stupid question,” Shannon Murphy said. “But do you think the same man who tried to assault you, he could’ve been the one who killed and dismembered the woman found floating in Brush Creek?”
“It’s very possible.”
“Not telling the police what happened to you could be his free pass to kill and dismember other women.”
The guilt Sandy already felt only intensified.
She huffed a strong breath and said, “Shannon, I must say that you’re right. But it’s never too late to go down to police headquarters and let them know.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
The guilt sort of eased up.
“Let me say that I’m proud of all of you women for having the courage to stand up and speak out, by doing everything humanly possible to make our communities safer places to live. A lot of women feel terrorized by the men who rape them. They feel guilty and blame themselves. They don’t follow through with helping to put these scumbags on trial, putting other women at risk.”
Carol interjected into the topic. “By standing up against these men who derive pleasure from violating and humiliating women, you have empowered other women to take action.”
Sandy tapped Carol on the shoulder. “Ladies, we have a very special guest with us tonight. She’s someone who wants to help prevent other women from being attacked and raped by the same man who nearly left her for dead. Though it’s been three years since she’d been brutally raped, she believes this man is still out there raping other women. Ladies, I’d like to introduce to you, Mary Saladino.”
Mary received the warmest welcome. In fact, every woman stood as she stepped to the front. She parked her petite frame at the front and center of the room.
“Thank you very much for that wonderful reception,” Mary delightfully acknowledged. “The night I was raped was the most horrible night of my life. I had gone downstairs to do laundry. The rapist, because that’s what he really was since real men don’t rape, jumped from behind a row of washing machines. He split my head open with an iron tire rod. This savage beast jumped on top of me and raped me repeatedly. This rapist wasn’t your typical rapist since he wore surgical gloves to keep from leaving fingerprints behind. After he ejaculated inside of me, he poured bleach and dish washing liquid inside of me to contaminate any evidence of DNA from his semen. I could hear myself screaming as loud as possible. Hearing yourself scream is the worst feeling possible, not knowing what he’s going to do to you next.”
The women had bewildered looks on their faces.
“You being raped in such a brutal way, how has it changed your life?” asked Sheena Sawyer, sharing sentiments similiar to Mary.
“Every single day, I hope that he’s caught,” Mary continued. “I wasn’t his first victim, and I’m sure I won’t be his last. I hope that no one goes through what I went through, because it does change your life forever. In the hour and a half that he beat and raped me, I didn’t know who I was, and didn’t know what I was. Everything that I knew previously up to that point had been washed away.”
“What about response from authorities?” Shannon Murphy intervened. “What about response from your community?”
Mary cleared her throat. “Law enforcement was really good. I have nothing bad to say about them. As a matter of fact, the detective assigned to my case became one of my good friends and was