The American Prince 1: The Arrest of Colin Frank

“What you in for?” a youth of 17 or 18 inquired as the door slammed shut. He and the other four occupants of the holding cell were regarding the newcomer: a younger boy, perhaps 15. He was nothing special, just another street kid, in spite of his appearance. His long scraggly hair was, or at least should have been if it had been clean, a dark blonde with a reddish tinge. It looked as if it hadn’t been cut in quite some time. His eyes, dull and lifeless, looked as if they should have been a fiery bright green. He appeared to be rather will built, but his posture told anyone who cared to look that he didn’t care how well built he was, or for that matter if he had a body at all. He was not wearing the usual uniform of the streets: dirty blue jeans that were too small, filthy T-shirt that was too large, ratty sneakers with no socks. He was clothed in a pair of bright orange shorts and a white tank top, neither of which was very clean. Just another street punk, the five inmates thought, hauled in for some stupid robbery, or selling drugs, or whatever.

“I’m talkin’ to YOU, punk!” the older boy said, a lot more forceful. “I asked what you’re in for!”

Still no answer.

“You better answer,” a younger boy of no more than 12 or 13 advised. “Rocky’s not used to just being ignored.”
“Ya got that right,” Rocky bellowed. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you any manners?”

No response.

Rocky crossed the cell in three strides, grabbed a handful of the boy’s hair and pulled him to his feet, then brought his knee up hard into the boy’s groin. He was now staring directly into the green eyes that had seconds ago appeared almost lifeless. Now there was a fire there; a fire that actually startled Rocky. “Fuck off, you piece of shit, before I hurt you!” the boy hissed at him, then the light in those eyes went out again. He hadn’t reacted at all to the knee that should have doubled him over in agony.

Rocky opened his hand, and the lifeless hulk that was the body of a teenage boy dropped to the bench he’d been sitting on, then again slumped over and didn’t move. Rocky started to laugh. “Well, I gotta say, whoever you are, you got guts. You can tell St. Peter when you meet him at the gate that you went out cussing Rocky the terrible.”
“Leave him alone, Rocky,” the younger boy said with a shaky voice. “Can’t ya see he’s had a hard day?”
“You wanna take his place?” Rocky roared as he whirled around and leered at the little boy. “I was gonna rape him before I killed him. You wanna take my nine inches instead o’ him?”
“If it’ll make ya happy, then go ahead. But please, just leave him, ok? You know we’ll all be in deep shit if they catch us fighting.”

Rocky returned to his seat, mumbling something unintelligible about wimpy little shits not being worth his time, and certainly not being worth his having to explain to the authorities. As it turned out Rocky had made a very good decision. A key turned in the steel door and a man in a rumpled suit walked in, a police officer behind him. “All right, kid,” he said in a tone that was almost mechanical, “come on, time for a little chat.”

The kid didn’t move. “Now, kid!” the man said more forcefully. “I’d like to get home to my family some time tonight.” When he still didn’t move, the new kid found himself being picked up by the huge cop and carried out of the room. He didn’t resist. Rocky and his cell mates knew now that the cops didn’t know who this kid was. And it was quite evident that the kid wasn’t sharing any more information with them than he’d done with Rocky.

“Ok, now we’re alone,” the man in the rumpled suit said. “You need to know we already know who you are, but I’d rather hear it from you. You need to face reality, my young friend, and the best place to start is with a name.”

The boy didn’t answer. He sat slumped in his chair, elbows on the table in front of him, head in his hands. “I realize you’re probably pretty hung over, and probably in a bit of pain considering what’s happened to you. But can’t you believe that there are some people in the world who care for you? Won’t you give us a chance?”

No answer.

“Ok,” the man said with a long sigh. “I guess I can’t blame you. For the record, my name is Josh. Josh Morgan. And your name is Colin, right?”

No answer.

“Look, Colin,” Josh said with another sigh, “I don’t have any idea what’s happened to you or what all you’ve been through, but I’d like to help you. I know you’ve been through a lot, but it’s over now. You’re safe, and I want to help you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’ve been through, so why don’t you trust me?”
“Trust you?” Colin said as his head snapped to attention, his green eyes again showing the fire that told volumes about the boy’s character. “What possible reason could I have for trusting you?”
“Well, for starters, I’m all you’ve got. I’m on your side, Colin!”

“You’re a cop, right?”
“Not exactly. I’m a psychologist employed by the police department.”
“What am I charged with?”
“Actually you’re not charged with anything - yet.”
“Then why can’t I go?”
“Because we’re involved in a criminal investigation. We found him, Colin. We found the doctor and all the other gory mess in his little torture chamber for boys.”

Colin didn’t change his expression, nor did he give any physical sign that he was the least affected by what Josh had just said. “We found the good doctor, still strapped to that table,” Josh went on. “His genitals, what was left of them, had been completely cut off and stuffed in his mouth, and he had completely bled out. We found evidence that there had been other boys in that place - pieces of clothing, articles that identified at least three other missing boys - and there was blood everywhere! I suspect very strongly that if we were to check the place carefully we would find all sorts of evidence that you had been there. I believe you can tell us a lot about what went on there, Colin.”
“Why would I be able to tell you anything? What makes you think I’ve been there?”

Josh sighed again. “Ok, Colin. Have it your way. We both know that your own body is ample evidence that you know that doctor very well, but I won’t push it. I’m going to send you back to lockup now, and then I’m going to contact your father to let him know you’re ok. I won’t put you back with those other goons though because I know what happens in those cells. I’m gonna put you in the psych area, not because I think you’re crazy, but you’ll get a private room there. I’m hoping after a good night’s sleep you’ll be a little more ready to talk to me. I really do want to help you, my young friend.”

“If you really wanted to help me, you’d let me go.”
“Go where? Back to the street? We both know that’s bullshit! In your current condition, all spaced out on some sort of drug, you wouldn’t last one day on your own! Go have a good night’s sleep, Colin. Do you need anything? Sleeping pill, aspirin, anything?”
“The only thing I need you’re not gonna give me,” Colin said as the fire in his eyes went out again.

“About your friend,” the shrink said as he turned to go. “He’s gonna be fine, thanks to you.”

Colin Frank lay on the small bunk in his private, padded cell. It was very warm in here and he was having another hot flash, so he had stripped naked. He thought of his father, probably on the phone this very minute talking to Josh the shrink. He chuckled to himself. His father no longer had any hold on him and that felt good! The urgent need to please his dad was now totally gone. He didn’t need anybody now. Nobody! Well, perhaps one person, but he knew now that that was never going to happen, so he’d get over it just like he’d got over everyone else that had touched his life.

He ran his hands up and down his smooth body, his totally bald groin, his smooth hairless legs. He loved the feel of his own body. It was a good body and it had served him well. It was lithe and muscular, everything worked and worked well - at least those parts he still had, and he loved taking care of it. Now, it seemed, the care of his body, or his very life would be the responsibility of someone else and Colin no longer cared. His mind wandered back to when he’d first become aware of what a great body he had, and how much fun he’d always had with it, since he was a very small boy. Ah yes, those were the greatest days of all: when he was a very small boy. The tears flowed freely and the boy sobbed loudly as he recalled how life used to be.

To be continued...