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In "The Room," the first boy that Jason abducted, Luke, died. After mourning Luke for a while, Jason has returned to the park, in a city in another state, where he abducted Luke, returning to the creek where little boys catch crawdads.
The Room II I arrived back at the city, bought another car from a private party, giving a false name and address. This time I disguised myself as a homeless person pushing a grocery cart around the park collecting pop cans. It was a perfect disguise. People usually looked the other way, pretending I wasnt there. I spent several days watching boys down by the creek, but either there were too many people around, or the kid wasnt really what I wanted, didnt grab my attention, or my heart. Then one day I pushed the cart down to the creek. I always had some empty pop cans in it, some garbage bags, and the tranquilizer gun wrapped in a garbage bag. He was there! The trees formed a green canopy over the brook, through which sunlight rained, dancing on his face as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. His laughter, as he splashed though the water chasing his prey, tinkled, like wind chimes in the wind, in tune with the music of the brook. The sun, reflecting from his eyes struck me like a dart both in my brain and my heart, driving the breath from my body and all reason from my brain. I had to have; I must have this boy! If a hundred people had been nearby, I would have taken him anyway. My hands shook as I lifted the barrel of the tranquilizer gun. Although the day was cool, sweat, beading on my brow, dripped into my eyes. I had to lower the gun to wipe the sweat from my eyes, then raised it again, took a deep breath, let it half out, and fired the dart. It struck his right thigh, sticking there, emptying the hypodermic into his leg. He jumped at the impact of the dart, stared at it jutting from his leg, reached down, pulled it out to bring it up level with his eyes, then crumpled, his legs in the stream, his back and head resting on the bank. The dart dropped into the water. I knew I shouldnt leave it behind, but all my thoughts were of him. Dropping the gun, I ran to him, gathered him up in my arms and carried him to where I had hidden the cart. I stuffed him in a garbage bag, placed him in the cart, and poured some empty pop cans on top. I retrieved the gun, placing it in another bag and also in the cart. I walked a ways down the stream looking for the dart, but couldnt bear to leave him alone for long. I didnt find it, but didnt think that anyone else would either. The cart, heavier now, left ruts in the soft earth. I wheeled it back to where I left the car, and, after making certain no one was around, placed him and the gun in the trunk I couldnt resist peeling back the bag to look at his face. Under the influence of the drug he was snoring softly, but his pulse was strong. I brushed the hair from his forehead, leaned over and kissed him. Reluctantly I stood up, looked at him longingly, and closed the trunk. I left the cart next to the trash dumpster. It took all my will to keep from speeding on my way back to the motor home. I took him inside, pulled back the covers, and laid him on the bed. Pulling off his jeans confirmed my suspicions. He was pre-pubescent. It didnt matter. As I watched him lying there, I was charmed with a charm that carries with it a sense of irreparable loss, tingling with that feeling which begins like a caress and ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a new emotion making its way into a human heart, with the brusque stirring of sleeping sensations awakening suddenly to the rush of new hopes, new fears, new desires-and to the flight of ones old self-I had irreparably changed. Sex was no longer part of the equation, no longer important. I drew in his beauty with a long breath, the last long breath of a soldier before the rush of battle, of a lover before he takes in his arms his beloved; the breath that gives courage to confront the menace of death or the storm of passion. He appeared to me with the impalpable distinctness of a dream. The world suddenly appeared to me like an apparition behind a transparent veil-a veil woven of light and shadows. Time stood still. When I moved my hand to caress his face, it flowed toward his face, like water being poured into a glass. Youre beautiful, I whispered. I didnt remember starting the motor home, driving away, or whether I took my usual precautions to make sure I left no clues behind. By the time I was again self-aware, or had a conscious thought, I was over a hundred miles from the city. When I arrived home, I walked back to where he lay, tenderly picked him up, and carried him outside. How changed everything seemed! The sky was higher, the diamond like sparkle of the morning sun on the dew flooded my senses. I walked through my house, as in a dream, to the secret room I had constructed. I took off the rest of his clothes, laid him naked on the bed, and stood there drinking in the sight of him, thirsting for the sight of him, as if I were dying of thirst for the sight of him. I wanted him to always be as he was now, to be the beautiful child that I saw playing in the waters of the creek, to always be able to hear the wind chimes of his laugh. I knew that I couldnt stop time altogether, but I knew how to stop many of the changes. I had done it before with Luke, and, whereas Luke had already begun changing into a man, this boy hadnt. When I was through, he would always keep his beauty, the wind chimes of his laugh. While he was still unconscious from the drug, I prepared. I strapped him down, his legs spread apart. Since his scrotum was so small, I split it from top to bottom. His marble like testicles dropped free of their bag to hang suspended by their cords. With my gloved hand, I grasped one, pulled it, stretching the cords. I clamped the cords, sutured above the clamp, and with my surgical scissors, snipped the cords. The marble rolled onto my palm. When I released the clamp, the cords retracted, out of sight, back into his body. The other testicle seemed, somehow, lonely, hanging there without its mate. I turned my attention to it. It soon joined its partner in the surgical dish beside him on the bed. I removed his scrotum altogether leaving just enough skin to stitch it together. He was smooth both above and below his small, precious, little penis, and he would always be so. I had saved him from the ravages of testosterone. He would never have to shave, have prostate problems, or lose his hair. His name was Kyle. I didnt use the Room to train him as I had Luke. I couldnt stand to not be able to touch him. Being away from him would have punished me more than him, me more than I could bear. I told him that there had been a terrorist attack, that a new biological agent had been released, that his parents were dead, that most people were dead, that we were only alive because we had the Room, that, to stay alive, he had to remain in the Room, that the attack had caused the loss of his testicles. It took a while to convince him, but I can be convincing. I showed him that there were no stations on the TV, that we could only play tapes and DVDs. I slept with him on the bed, comforting him when he cried. I had no sex with him. Oh, I sometimes masturbated in the control room while I watched him, but our relationship was beyond sex. When he got older, we might have had sex. It was, after all, my responsibility to teach him about life, to show him the pleasures that sex could have brought him. I never got the chance to find out, though. Kyle had only been with me about two weeks when they found us. I answered the door to find my yard full of police armed with a search warrant. Because I was so mesmerized by Kyle when I took him, I made too many mistakes. The tracks made by the cart had led them to where I loaded him into the trunk of the car. They took impressions of the tire tracks of the car, matching them to the car when they found it. The tranquilizer gun was still in the trunk of the car. After carrying Kyle into the motor home, I had never given it another thought. My fingerprints were on the gun, on file, and they had the dart from the creek. Although a normal search would have never found the Room, they tore the house apart until they did. It broke my heart to see the look that Kyle gave me when he found that everything I had told him was a lie. Then they found the clothes that Luke had been wearing when I took him. I couldnt bring my self to throw them away. They already suspected me because Luke had been taken from the same park. Eventually I showed them where Luke was buried. Nothing mattered anymore, anyway. I had lost Kyle, and any chance for his love. The press called me a monster. They found me guilty of murder of a child, with added circumstances, which got me the death penalty. Although Im guilty of nothing but loving Luke and Kyle, Ive waived all appeals. At least, Ill soon be at peace. Authors comments: I must give credit to Joseph Conrad for his influence on the style I used, and for some plagiarism of him. Those parts used are enclosed in quotes, although the content has been changed somewhat. I couldnt come up with anything on my own that I liked so well. Slammr
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