Story: Wagon   
      
   This is going to be very hard for me to write, but I've decided that the   
   risk   
   to me is outweighed by the chance of saving a life.  I am still going to do   
   everything possible to prevent you from finding out who I am, while   
   giving you   
   enough information to hopefully prevent a tragedy, although it has probably   
   already happened anyway.  I was walking on a biking/hiking trail (and I   
   can't   
   tell you which one because witnesses might remember seeing my car, which   
   might   
   lead you to me) a little before sunset three days ago.  I took a loop of the   
   trail most people don't take.  There was a car parked on the trail, blocking   
   half of it, and cars aren't even supposed to be on the trail at all.  I   
   was a   
   bit angry so I stopped by the car to cuss out the driver.  The driver   
   was gone,   
   but just as I was about to leave I saw a movement in the back.	The car   
   was an   
   old station wagon, a sort of brownish-cream-yellow-icky color with simulated   
   wood panels.  I glanced in the back and there were two girls there.  I   
   looked   
   around to see if the car's owner (presumably their parent) was around, but   
   didn't see anyone, so I went to the back to say hello to them.  I was very   
   surprised and horrified to see that they were both tied up and gagged.	One   
   girl, who was six to eight, had her arms behind her, I assumed tied, and her   
   knees and feet were tied together also.  The other girl was about seven   
   to nine   
   years old.  Her wrists were tied together behind her neck, and her   
   ankles were   
   tied together.	She was partially covered by a towel, but I could see she was   
   bare from just below her armpits and up, and from her knees down.  When they   
   saw me they started struggling and it looked like they were trying to   
   yell, but   
   I don't remember hearing them.  As the older girl struggled, her towel slid   
   aside a few inches and I could see she was completely undressed.  I quickly   
   tried opening the back door, then went around the car trying all the   
   doors, but   
   they were all locked.  The windows were tightly shut.  So I tried a   
   trick from   
   a movie, I hit the back window with my fist.  I think I may have broken my   
   knuckle, but the window held solid.  (Don't bother checking around, I'm not   
   going to see a doctor about it, no matter how much it hurts, so you   
   can't find   
   me that way).  I knew I didn't have enough strength to hit again hard enough   
   to break it.  I looked for anything I could use to break it, but there   
   wasn't   
   even a rock handy.  Then I lost my head, I thought of my tire iron in my car   
   back in the parking lot, and took off at a run to get it.  I didn't stop to   
   get a licence number, or make or model of the car, or distinguishing marks.   
   I ran as hard as I could, but my car was at least a quarter of a mile   
   away and   
   I am not in very good condition.  What's the speed record for running a half   
   a mile, about two minutes?  It must have taken me at least four minutes, and   
   probably more like seven minutes, to get to my car, get the tire iron   
   from the   
   trunk, and get back to the other car.  It didn't help that in my panic I   
   made   
   a wrong turn in the trail and had to backtrack a hundred yards.  I stood   
   there   
   and cried when I got back and saw that the station wagon was gone.   I   
   went up   
   to where I thought it had been and looked around, not knowing what else   
   to do.   
   I had a sickening thought, and walked down from the trail into the trees,   
   hoping against hope that I wouldn't find anything.  I searched for a few   
   minutes, finding nothing, feeling a mixture of grief and failure, but   
   growing   
   relief.  Then I saw her body, laying face down in a small depression.  I ran   
   up to her.  She was no longer tied, but she wasn't moving.  I've had a   
   little   
   bit of first aid training, so I turned her over, checking for bleeding,   
   found   
   only small wet stains on a few places on her head, checked her pulse and   
   found   
   none, and checked her breathing and found none.  I knelt beside her and   
   started   
   giving her CPR and artificial respiration, knowing that I had seen her alive   
   only a few minutes earlier.  I was no expert, since I've never done CPR   
   before,   
   but I hoped I would be competent enough to save her.   
      
   Here's the part that just tears my guts apart.  I am crying as I write this,   
   and wishing that this was all just a nightmare, that I could wake up and   
   be a   
   completely different person, that my entire life would just go away and be   
   replaced by a normal person's life.  I was kneeling over this murdered naked   
   little girl's body, with my tire iron on the ground beside me, desperately   
   trying to save her life, praying hard for help, when I heard voices coming   
   down the hiking trail.	I absolutely panicked, much worse than before, only   
   this time I was concerned for my own life.  I threw her back into the place   
   I had found her, hidden from the trail, and ducked behind the widest tree I   
   could reach in time.  Two men passed by above me, I could hear them   
   talking but   
   couldn't understand the words.  When they had passed, I grabbed my tire iron   
   and ran back to my car, through the trees instead of taking the trail.   
   I made   
   sure no one saw me get into the car, and hoped like anything no one had seen   
   me running with my tire iron before.  None of the following passed   
   through my   
   conscious mind at the time, or maybe all of it did and I don't remember, but   
   you should have some explanation of why I didn't just call out to the   
   men for   
   help, have them call an ambulance and the police or something.	I have no   
   more   
   respect for the police and the courts than I do for the person who   
   killed that   
   girl, and they have no more respect for me than they do for the murderer.  I   
   have been arrested, tried, convicted, and jailed for several counts (I won't   
   tell you how many charges or how many trials or how many years, you can   
   smugly   
   believe in at least 5 years per charge, and you'll be close) of the   
   so-called   
   felony of gently and lovingly undressing, hugging, kissing, and   
   caressing two   
   smiling, giggling, and completely consenting girls, age five to nine   
   (that's as   
   close as I'm going to say) over the course of several months or years.  They   
   undoubtedly have records of the charges that were dropped because some other   
   girls resisted being forced to testify against me.  I knew subconsciously   
   that if I was found kneeling beside that little girl's naked body,   
   regardless   
   of anything I said or did, I would go to jail for the rest of my life,   
   even if   
   she lived.  The police would check my arrest record while questioning   
   me, and   
   I would never breathe free air again.  They'd get a search warrant, tear up   
   my home and find all of my so-called child pornography, all the articles I   
   had saved from newspapers, all the pictures I had taken and collected since   
   getting out of jail, all the dreams I had written down in a diary, all the   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)