Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Timothy - 90. Chapter 90
Wednesday, Rich called to say he had an appointment to interview Bruce. I was glad, “Rich, I want an advance copy.”
Laughing, “Maybe you should come with me.”
“No, you wouldn’t get a good interview. Once he saw me, he would clam up, and you would get a canned interview. Just give me a preview before you publish your article.”
I couldn’t help wondering what would happen when Rich started asking questions about raping girls when he was in high school and the continued blackmail of Tom.
I hadn’t talked to Tom for a while, so I called him. “Tom, this is Tim. We haven’t spoken lately, and I wanted to know when school goes on break?”
“Hi Tim, I thought you had forgotten me.”
“I’m sorry, Tom, I’ve been quite busy lately with family issues. Tom, Stephen and I would like for you to spend your summer break with us.”
“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate the invitation. I want to visit my folks and spend a little time with them. When they get tired of me, I’ll take you up on your invitation.”
“Good, I look forward to seeing you this summer.”
I told Stephen about my phone call with Tom. “Are you still planning on him having a session with Alex?”
“Yes, at least that will give him a chance to know there is help available.” I couldn’t help thinking about what Donnie said about Bruce. If he was right, that might be the best medicine for Tom.
Without any company, our mornings returned, and I had my special seat back.” I missed this.”
“So did I. I enjoy having company, but I miss our mornings.”
Laughing, “You are insatiable.”
“Only for you.”
Some sense of normality entered our lives. Mornings I had my seatback. Mom and Dad came up on Friday, bringing the week’s paper, Alex and Ann Marie had dinner at our place on Friday, Mom and Dad left Saturday morning, and we had dinner at Stephen’s home on Sunday night.
The week passed without incident. Alex and Ann Marie came over for dinner a couple of times. On Saturday, Rich called. He’ll be interviewing Bruce on Tuesdays, and he’s flying to Canada on Monday evening. I reminded him that I would like to see his article before it is printed.
I was anxious to read Rich’s article on his interview. Monday seemed to drag. Tuesday, I was pacing the floor. Stephen told me to relax, but I couldn’t. Donnie’s words about Bruce not returning bothered me.
Wednesday morning, I was awakened by my phone ringing. “Hello
“Tim, this is Rich. I’m still in Canada.”
“Why, you were supposed to be back yesterday..”
“Something happened, and the authorities asked me to stay.”
“What happened?”
“Bruce committed suicide.’
“Talk to me, Rich.”
“I had finished my interview when he told me he couldn’t go back to the States. He said there was no way he could go to prison. He said he was sorry for the pain he caused. I watched as he took a sheet, tore it, and made a noose. I went to get the guard, and when we came back, he was dead. Somehow he climbed on the top bunk, jumped off, and snapped his neck.”
Donnie’s message flashed through my mind. For some strange reason, I felt sorry for Bruce. Did he deserve to die? I couldn’t find solace in his death. Maybe that feeling was because I was responsible for his death in a way. Would he be alive if I didn’t go after him?
Stephen held me, “What happened?”
“Bruce is dead. He committed suicide.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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