( TV-MA [L/D] ) ~~~ My name is Stephen Hornsby and I was kidnapped when I was seven years old. I spend most of my time trying to remember things before that. I think if I didn't, and tried to think about what happens now, I'd go crazy. I remember my name is Stephen with a PH. My dad was going to teach me how to test the pool water with a PH kit. That helps me to remember how to spell my name and it helps me remember my dad is a good guy -- not the man who took me. I remember my last name is Hornsby by picturing a bee with horns. Sometimes it's carrying a PH kit, and that helps me remember the two things go together for my name. I remember that seven is when I was kidnapped because seven of the PH kit, too. Dad told me that acid goes up and base goes down, and seven is neutral in the middle. Water from the sink is neutral, PH seven. I was taken when I was seven, my name is Stephen Hornsby, and that's how I remember it. Sometimes I wake up in my own bed and I sleep in for a while like it's Summer Vacation and not think about anything until I realize "Hey, I'm home!" and I get all excited to be home. Just before I call out to Mom and Dad and let them know I'm okay and I'm safe at home a man's hand covers my mouth and I *really* wake up here. Here is like a basement but smaller and instead of being under a house it's outside. I found out it was outside because when the man who took me first opened the door, it was cloudy, and I could see the sky. Other times it was so sunny I couldn't see anything but light and his shadow. Other times it was the middle of the night and I could only see stars and where the stars aren't which is where he was standing. So I know it's outside, and not like a real basement. I just woke up for real. I didn't have that dream about being home, but there's a new boy here, which doesn't make me feel good either. There have been other boys here before and I hate to see them as scared as I am. It makes me feel more scared to see them scared. He's going to want to ask me questions, and I'm going to want to tell him how to hang on. I want to tell him my name is Stephen Hornsby and I want him to tell me his name and all the things he doesn't want to forget. And I don't want him to tell me anything, because I know I've already forgotten much of what the last new boy told me, and I don't want to feel guilty about forgetting him too. I don't want him to forget who I am, though. I'll talk to him and do my best to remember him if he's the one to go because I hope he will remember me if I go first. I want to tell him all I've learned because it might help him to be okay even though things aren't okay. I want to tell him it doesn't help to scream. No one can hear you. I got told this and I didn't believe it. I screamed because I figured I wouldn't be punished if no one could hear and if anyone could it was worth it. I screamed until my throat hurt and it didn't help. I don't want to hear him scream. I think that's the *last* thing I want to hear, ever. I want to tell him he can't break out and he can't run or hide. I know I tried a bunch of times and I never could. I wish it wasn't true, but he'll know they are if he hears them from me, because I was the new boy once. I want to tell him things I found out by luck, like it's okay to call the man who took you names. You can call him a bastard or a son of a bitch or a faggot - he won't hurt you any worse. It will make him cry, but that's about all you can do to hurt him and it won't stop him. He'll wash your mouth out with soap but you will want him to wash your mouth out with soap after he's done. I want to tell him you can forget about being rescued because it ain't going to happen. I got told this but I didn't believe it so I kept hoping. It never helped. I kept having dreams about what might happen. They were either bad dreams about what might happen or good dreams that I'd wake up from, which made waking up worse than a bad dream. He's waking up now. He's scared. So am I. He doesn't know where he is and all I can think to tell him is we're not in a real basement under a house. When he wants to try to escape or says someone will find us, I'll have to tell him no we won't and no they won't. He looks up at the door. There's light coming through the cracks between the boards, so I know it's daytime. Someone opens up the door, but there's more than one man. There's a noise so loud it reminds me of when the car door slammed shut on my hand. The man in front has a gun and he shot it. We're being rescued. I haven't told him anything yet, but I want to tell the new boy I'm sorry I was going to tell you to forget about hoping to get rescued. I was going to tell him everything I learned, like you could be here for years. And eventually the man who took you will get tired of you. And just when you think the worst of the worst is going to happen because you're still scared of dying even though everything else has happened, he is going to let you go. When he does that, you're not going to know what to do. You're going to know you can't go back to your Mom and Dad, if they're still alive. You can't tell them what he did and you can't stand anyone else knowing. You missed school, you don't have a home, and you don't know what to do. I was going to tell him you are going to know that you're never going to be rescued - you're going to live in the old house with a door leading down to something that's not a real basement out in the field in the back, like I did when the man who took me let me go. I can't move. I'm laying on the floor looking at him and I want to tell him I'm sorry because I almost told him to give up hope. I want to tell him he is so lucky. I had given up hope it would ever happen. I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I'm smiling because I'm so glad. Even if it is the last thing that ever happens to me, I'm so glad we're being rescued. ~~~ -Vis