The Secret Manuscript (Complete)

Chapter Nineteen

Ben was staring at a custom-fitted dust cover draped over some kind of automobile. Based on the outline of the car, Ben had an idea of what model it was. Still, he could not help but look. Reaching down, Ben grabbed the cover from the bottom and flipped it up over the hood. He almost gasped when he saw the shiny chrome and pristine red paint. Even though he was just fourteen years old, he had a deep appreciation for American muscle cars. He walked the length of the car with the cover still in hand. With each step, a little more of the car was revealed. Once he reached the end, he tossed the cover onto the dusty floor. He was now staring at a mint-condition, 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. He had never seen Wibley drive it nor had he ever heard him talk about it. For a brief moment, Ben actually had a little respect for his foster father. 

The car had momentarily hypnotized Ben, causing a distortion in his moral judgement. Placing one hand on the front seat, and the other on the windshield, he jumped inside the vehicle - muddy boots and all. He slid into the vintage leather seat and immediately gripped the steering wheel. The '67 Mustang was one of Ben's favourite cars. He had never sat in such a nice car before, and doubted whether he would ever get the chance again. He took full advantage of the opportunity. After cranking the steering wheel a few times and playing with the knobs, the excitement of pretending to drive was fast wearing off. 

He inspected every square inch of the car's interior, running his fingers along the smooth leather and vinyl surfaces. He opened the glove box and even looked under the seat. When he flipped open the sun visor, a set of keys fell into his lap. He stared at the keys for a moment before picking them up. Much like he had done with the rest of the car, he carefully studied the details on them. It was at that point that a little devil appeared on his shoulder, whispering terrible ideas into his impressionable ear. With a more mature individual, the suggestion would probably have been dismissed as foolish. However, this restraint mechanism had not yet fully developed in Ben's adolescent mind. Ben's impulses were in control and he had no choice but to act upon them. Without wasting any time, he inserted the key into the ignition and fired the car up.  

The massive engine came to life with a ferocious roar. Nothing in the world gave Ben more joy than being in control of all the harnessed power that the car possessed. With one foot on the gas pedal, and the other foot on the clutch, he gave two pumps with his right foot. The car growled like a caged beast, echoing throughout the tiny garage. Kyle heard the sounds and knew there was about to be trouble.  

The next thing Ben saw was the massive garage door swing open and Bob Wibley standing in the entrance with an angry look on his face, almost as if he were about to explode. Ben panicked and released his foot from the clutch, while keeping his right foot still on the gas. A deafening symphony of raw power consumed the small space as the needle on the RPM gauge shot up to 6000. The thick tires spun in place until they became warm and found traction. The car jolted forward, spitting up all kinds of dust. Mr. Wibley had to dive out of the way to avoid being hit as the Mustang charged out of its stable like a reckless stampede.  

The car accelerated in tandem with Ben's adrenaline, forcing his mind to think quickly and try to keep up. He immediately gripped the shift knob and forced it downward, engaging the second gear. The meaty throttle drowned out any screams coming from Wibley. With the wheel cranked and the gas pedal near the floor, the car threw up a large cloud of dirt. Ben knew he would be in heaps of trouble already, so he decided to make the most of it. Before the dust could settle, Ben was gone. Ben sped down the single-lane dirt road and headed toward the city. 

By the time the police found him, it was night time. They hauled him back to the farm where he would undoubtedly be on the receiving end of some old-fashion justice.  

Just as he had expected, he was properly dealt with. Wibley had a way of striking the worst fear inside his heart. Ben was so afraid that he began crying before the lashes even began, yet he did not say a word. Kyle listened in agony from his bedroom upstairs. This time there was nothing he could do. He knew any sort of retaliation toward the Wibleys was not the best way to deal with the situation. Besides, any attempt to intervene would likely make matters worse. 

The thick leather strap whistled through the air as it came down on Ben's back. The slaps could be heard from anywhere in the two-level house. Each time, Ben let out a horrific shriek, sending chills up Kyle's spine. Kyle clutched the covers on his bed and flinched every time Ben was whipped. Kyle too had firsthand experience with Wibley's disciplinary measures. 

The next day, Ben and Kyle woke up at 7:00 a.m. like they had always done. They went into the stable to feed the horses, then the pigs. Not many words were spoken between the two. For the most part, they kept their heads down and focused on their chores to avoid getting in trouble. Ben hobbled around with open wounds on his back. Each movement was excruciatingly painful. Kyle told Ben to take it easy as he worked twice as hard to carry the load for them both. 

The chapter ended and Ben pulled himself out of the story. His eyes were a little misty as the graphic story struck a chord with him. As painful as it was to recall those experiences, he had never thought about it from Kyle's perspective. He discovered Kyle was a much more loyal friend than he had given him credit for, and Kyle expected nothing in return. He began to weep, feeling pity for himself. His whole body shook as he sank deeper in despair and became consumed with emotions. He recounted the horrible memories from his past, which until that point he had done his best to suppress. The painful emotions flooded in and Ben wailed louder.  

After a while, he took several deep breaths and regained his composure. Recalling the memories had been somewhat therapeutic as it had allowed him to confront his demons.