Friday evening I went to bed fairly early. I was tired from the week, and I needed rest. Finally, after going into a deep slumber, I woke up to loud screaming. My air conditioner was off because it was a cool night, so I could hear everything in the neighborhood.
Now, I was never one to complain about a party next door. I’m becoming one of those lil' old biddies that gripe about the fun other kids are having next door. But, this scenario was quite different. In fact, I enjoy it when I hear my young neighbors next door having fun, holding huge parties and listening to their music. Geez, but my age, my music taste should have changed by now, but I find myself relating to them more than I’d like to.
12am: Party is hoppin’, kids are talking amongst themselves and laughing. I love the sound of laughter—it’s the greatest thing.
1am: The party is starting to get louder. This time, there was no music, and it sounded as though there were much more people involved. Cars packed with kids coming into my driveway by mistake, were making my sensor flood lights wacky. Okay, whatever. Back to sleep for Deb. Obviously, it’s the wrong house.
3am: I hear a girl screaming bloody murder, as another girl was running down the road, screaming, “Help! Help her!” Then the next sounds were a bunch of guys chanting, “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” as the girl screamed her lungs out. I heard something banging constantly up against a car and loud screams still coming out of this one girl. Another guy screamed out, “F*** her harder!”
That’s when Deb calls the police. The sounds that I heard were the sounds of a girl getting raped—by numerous guys. It was disturbing and quite frankly, sick! I got the cops on the phone and explained to him what I heard. He could hear the commotion from my background, because I was close to my window. He sent a unit out to investigate. I kept my face near the window with my lights off.
Then I heard the patrol car pull up as kids ran as fast as they could through the woods onto MY yard!
“It’s the police! Run! Get out of here man!” One kid yelled out to all the others. I heard bushes being trampled on and the cop yelling, “Get back here!” as he ran after them. Then two more cop cars were called in. I was curious at this point, because now I had about thirty kids on my lawn, and cops trying to find them. Something was wrong. Something had to have upset the cops enough to really get their grips on these kids.
I called back into the police department inquiring about the status. The cop informed me that it was much more than thirty kids that were partying up there, and couldn’t release any information, unless I wanted to be interviewed as a witness—because something very serious had taken place. Of course I knew what it was, but I told him that I didn’t want to volunteer to be a witness. If what I “think” happened, indeed happened, then I will come out as a witness and help this girl. But the only thing is, I didn’t “witness” this. I “heard” what was happening.
When young boys get drunk in packs, you never know what can happen. I was afraid that they were going to decide to burglarize my house. My father walked outside to his truck, to make sure that none of his equipment was missing, and there was a kid hiding right behind it. When he asked the kid what he was doing—he immediately fled.
I hope to God that what I heard was wrong. But the screams from that girl still rings in my head. I’m keeping up with the reports in the paper and online, and checking if this girl presses any charges.
That was the excitement over here in my neck of the woods. Give a little moonshine to under-aged kids, and look what happens. Pure chaos.
Tonight, I’m sleeping with the windows closed and the a/c on. It’s gonna be a hot one this week.
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