was the worst part; they did know. They were so convinced Jimmy was the closest thing to God that they offered up their own children as fodder for this pervert. I still grapple with that. That evil in Jimmy. And in those parents. I suppose you could say they were victims too. Perhaps I should not be so critical. But I can’t let them off the hook for the perversion they subjected their own children to. As adults, they should have known the danger and protected their sons.”
“I fully agree.” She spoke softly not to startle him.
“I knew it was wrong. I hated it. He’d take these poor boys, some as young as eight, into a room all alone and I didn’t know what to do about it. Sometimes I ran off into the woods. We lived mostly off the beaten path in remote areas. I packed books with me all the time and I read to escape it all. But it felt wrong not to help those kids. I just didn’t know what to do.”
She leaned closer to him. Lifting one of his hands that hung limply with her own, she said with care and tenderness in her tone, “You were a boy then too. You couldn’t know what to do to save them. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Well, no one else does either. You’re not supposed to know about it. I’m not proud of it. The memory haunts me.”
“And you can’t make it stop?” she asked, not as a question but to clarify the issue.
“I—no, I can’t.”
Duh. Oh, poor Jim. Jim was a small, lost boy all over again. The books he always read were his escape. Then and now.
“There was no one to tell. The adults were all smitten with him in a sick, aberrant way. I didn’t know many people outside of them. School teachers, maybe, but I was afraid to tell them.”
“You were a young boy. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I despised it though. I remember one particularly bad day, Jimmy grabbed a real young kid… and I remember the look on his face when he walked out after being abused by Jimmy and I just couldn’t bury myself in another book. I didn’t come home from school ever again.”
“Where did you go that first time?”
“I think I stayed alone in the woods. It was June, and plenty warm enough. I scrounged for berries to eat. I remember being scared witless of the dark. I snuck into a bakery or a coffee shop soon after and stole some bread when the family left for work and school. I remember that.”
“Oh, Jim…”
His head hung and he kept his hand limply in hers. “I lived for a while like that. Then I met the Zavarians. I started doing some work for them. Eventually, I moved into their spare room and they were pretty decent to me. They were older and childless and utterly devoted to their church. Dave and Gloria Zavarian were Presbyterians. They went to church on Sunday, and Bible class on Wednesday. They also said grace before they ate any meals. That was it. That was all they did. Nothing… strange or fake with their religion. I shunned it all at first. I kept waiting for Dave to take me somewhere away from the others and expected grossly inappropriate actions in the name of religion.
“But it never happened. I asked if I could go to church with them finally and they were thrilled. I went and it was eye-opening to me. The services lasted for only an hour. We sang pretty, hopeful songs together that were simple and sweet. The pastor blew my mind. He spoke in a calm, even voice about God and appeared to be the polar opposite of Jimmy. Jimmy claimed that God was using him and speaking through him to convey his message to the cult. He’d have seizures and fits, falling to the ground, kicking and convulsing on the floor as he ranted and raved, screaming for hours on end as God’s Receiver.”
“I can’t imagine how twisted that must have been.”
“I always knew he was faking. He told me so. He mocked his followers from the time I could talk and understand so I always knew he was faking it. I didn’t believe him so I was blown away when his followers fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He liked to flip in and out of his Receiver role. He’d call out the names of the people and