My mom called me and asked if I wanted to go out to eat. I thought it was great that she was respecting my independence, and wanted to actually take the time to build a relationship. We had a nice time together. We even went for a ride in the country, and she let me drive the car. On the way back to my dad's house, she said she needed to use the bathroom. So, we stopped at her house, since it was on the way.
As soon as we got inside, my stepfather emerged from the bedroom and locked the front door. It was one of those deadbolts that had a keyhole inside and out, so you couldn't get out without the key. Then, two other men emerged from the bedroom. My step father said, "This is Frank, and this is Joe, and we're going to Mississippi." Now, I had never done anything violent until I was put in a position where I had to fight for my freedom. But, at that point, all I could think about was getting to the kitchen where I could get a hold of a butcher knife. I didn't make it.
Suddenly, a van appeared at the front door, and they dragged me outside. I was kicking and screaming, "HELP! HELP! HELP!" Apparently, no one heard my screams. I wasn't a very big kid at 16, but once inside of the van, Frank (at least 250 pounds) sat on my back while I was face-down on the floor. I still wake up gasping for air, some nights.
Excuse me while I vomit...