Chapter One

“Philippians 3:14 says: ‘I can do all things through Christ’. Let us remember this as we think of our sister Amy and the trials she has faced these past few days,” Pastor Ray said as we sat in a semicircle around him. Our Sunday night our youth group had just heard about the horror that had landed Amy in the hospital Saturday. Her life had been a living hell since Friday night. We were all taking this hard, especially me. Since ninth grade, it was Amy and I. Now sophomores at Point Loma Nazarene, we were still together. I should have never let her walk alone to her dorm, but I did and because of my stupidity she was raped. I blamed myself, but others had pinned me worse, for suddenly, a shout came from the door.

“Police, where is Jeremiah Mason?” A woman in a royal blue business suit stood at the door. She had shoulder length blond hair and looked with a fierceness around the room like a lioness hunting for her pray. I wondered why she had wanted me, but in the depths of my heart I knew. Slowly I stood, my eyes fixed on her.

“I’m right here,” I said stepping forward as is she hadn’t seen me yet. The police woman walked up to me and spun me around. She spoke and I looked down to the floor as the coldness of metal touched the flesh of my wrist.

“Jeremiah Matthew Mason, you are under arrest for the rape of Amy Septa. You have the right to remain silent, anything…” she kept going but I heard nothing. I was innocent, I knew it. What could they have found to arrest me on? I had nothing to do with this except letting her walk home alone. But what could I have done then for I was being led out.

Soon, my head was cupped at the back and forced into the blue and white police car. I flashed back to a time when I was little. A police officer came to out school when I was around seven years old. He showed us his belt, and vest, and his car. I could remember climbing in the back seat, and loving the gate that separated the front from the back, in my mind, separating me from my parents. Now I just felt enclosed, like a criminal although I had done nothing. With my head bowed down I prayed, prayed that I would be safe, and most importantly for Amy. After praying I felt better. My eyes gazed out the window and from inside, everything looked different. It was all dull and gray. I knew there was light that God was there, but even then, everything felt sick. Unexpectedly I started to sing, “Let that be enough” by Switchfoot. The policewoman turned to look at me and asked, “You like Switchfoot?”

“Yes ma’am,” I answered. She reached over into the glove box and pulled out a CD case. At the next light, she fumbled through the case. When she found what she was looking for, she popped it in. I recognized it right away, Switchfoot.

“Did you know that they are a Christian band Jeremiah?”

“Yes ma’am. That is what I choose to listen to, Christian music.” I looked down at my hands. I heard her sigh, tires screech as she pulled over.

“Did you rape Amy, Jeremiah?” I was shocked enough by her stopping the car, and now this question.

“No.” I said softly with the utmost confidence.

“If it’s and consolation, I believe you.”

“Thanks, may I ask how they could charge me with this?”

“You may. Forensics found your blood in her dorm room. They also know that you were the only person, other than her roommate, that had a key to her room, and that is where the crime took place, we had enough evidence to arrest you.”

“But it didn’t happen in the room. Anne said she found her behind the bushed next to the dorm.”

“Anne, as in Amy’s roommate?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“She told us that she found Amy in the room.”

“Anne’s hiding something!” with my last statement, the policewoman put her foot on the gas petal and we continued on to the station, faster than before.