“You should go to the
police, Cody.” Michael was looking at him intently while he said
it.
Cody just shook his head.
“Would you recognise
him if you saw him again?”
“Oh yes. I fucking
would. He … jeez …. he tied me down and raped me, all the time
cutting me with the knife. Look!” he pointed towards cuts several
centimetres long on his legs and his stomach. “He would mutter
Biblical verses while he did it, and when he came, he would shout
hallelujah! He wanted me to watch him while he did it. He would tie
my legs back and told me if I closed my eyes he'd cut a piece out of
me.” Cody looked away. “I didn't believe him. I couldn't bear
to watch him. His eyes were so demented. So I closed my eyes.”
He paused, unable to go on. The other two waited. “He … cut ….
he cut a chunk out of my bum. I fainted from the pain. When I came
round he said 'next time I'll cut more'.” Cody stopped and
swallowed, then added, “No I will never forget him. His face … I
will never forget his face. His eyes. Never.”
“So that means you can
identify him, right?”
Cody nodded then
understood what Michael was implying. “Oh fuck! Oh fucking
Jesus!”
“The police may be
dickheads when it comes to dealing properly with gays but at least if
you tell them you reduce the risk to yourself.”
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