On Becoming a Rapist: How easily it could happen to you or someone you love...

By Apple Delhi

In the gripping novel "On Becoming a Rapist," the story revolves around William Webster, a Louisiana native who, at a young age, volunteered for the Marines driven by a desire to serve his country and protect his fellow Americans. William's unwavering dedication led him to make sacrifices without seeking rewards.

However, upon returning home after an honorable discharge, William's life takes an unexpected turn. Struggling with addiction, he finds himself accused of a heinous crime. As the accusations mount, William faces a moral dilemma and societal judgment. Can he accept the conflicting labels thrust upon him? Can he be both a hero and a rapist? Is there room for redemption or understanding within such complex circumstances?

"On Becoming a Rapist" is a thought-provoking and poignant exploration of identity, societal perception, and the consequences of one's actions. The narrative challenges readers to question the nature of labels, the complexities of human behavior, and the potential for redemption. Through William's journey, readers are confronted with uncomfortable truths and forced to reevaluate their own beliefs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350913415

Book preview

BK90079812.jpg

©2023 Apple Delhi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

eBook ISBN: 979-8-35091-341-5

This fictional… novel briefly covers the consequences and experiences a person can expect to have in prison after he or she has been found guilty for the charge of rape. This book also touches on daily life on the inside of Louisiana’s State Penitentiaries. Through this book you will learn of the horrific, shocking, and often humorous experiences a person may have while living as a product of the State. You’ll see this book for what it is, by the fact that it is absolutely not what you want to hear. The human species… is unique. The following short story, along with its characters and documented events will show you why.

Chapter Contents

Introduction

Chapter One: Before the Event

Chapter Two: Parish Jail

Chapter Three: Richland

Chapter Four: Huntsville

Chapter Five: Davis Wayne

Chapter Six: After the Event

Closing Remarks: Wake up Louisianans’

Introduction

I welcome you to Third World America. This is a place where America hides her shame. Those she has raised, yet deems them to be unfit and unworthy of society. A place where her degenerate children, whom she does not want to be publicly displayed, have the ability to blossom into exactly whoever or whatever it is they want to be. This is where they can be what they were created to be, without too much criticism and judgment from those same people who raised them.

I speak of the American Prison System. I speak on Louisiana’s Prison system to be precise. While I can’t say much of experiences in other State Prisons, I can speak on this one particular State in much detail. The stories you hear within this novel will be hated by both Officers and Inmates alike, who are still within the System. They will be hated by them because there exist a false image and a false idea about what is going on inside some of these prisons. Many people will hate this novel, because this ‘fictional novel’ is much closer to the truth than anything else you have ever read. This book will not glorify any part of prison, as some TV shows and movies like to do for the sake of drama. The stories herein will be kept real and raw.

What I am about to share with you is my story. A story that has spawned from a ten year sentence inside Louisiana’s Prison System after the State convicted me for rape. For ten years I have floated through the system, as a passing form of substance, I guess you could say. For ten years I have been watching, observing, and listening. Blending in with the mob and trying to make it out so that the society I long for, the same society that ostracized me may have a chance to hear what really happens behind the razor wire.

Listen up America,

This is that shit, you just can’t make up…

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental

Chapter One:

Before the Event

I grew up in a small town. How small? Like, under a rock small… In fact, I stayed in the woods perpetually as a child because that’s where all the excitement was. So curious I was about the world and not having a clue as to what I was doing in it, but completely happy and content all the same. Not much more than any other typical American boy who was shy, happy, and content. With brothers and sisters, I opted to play alone at every possible moment. Completely content with my own Being, I didn’t need much stimulation from others. Also, like a good boy I only decided to shower when the alternative was; to not eat.

As far back as my memory serves me, there had always been a strong desire in me to be accepted by and wanted women. Some little boys will steal their sister’s barbie dolls to play with them because they want to be a girl. By the age of seven, I was stealing my sister’s barbies because I wanted to pleasure girl. I believe this early perverted desire found fruition in my discovery of dad’s old porn stash… I was never molested by mom or sisters, so that can’t be it… Anyways, I don’t know, but the desire was there and it was not something I asked for. The desire was there and I was a horny freak, even as a child.

Now wait a second! I tell myself, Don’t you dare think about blaming your dad for anything… Think about this, where did the porn come from? Who acted in it the film and who filmed it? Who produced the film and who marketed it and allowed it to be sold across the Nation? The people of America did all this and they are the ones who allowed all of this. If anyone other than me is to be held accountable for whom I am then it is the people of America who the blame should fall on. The blame to the faults of my character falls on The Creator, the Nation and the Society that reared me. All dad is at fault for, is sperming an active and curious boy who was a natural at finding hidden things.

Anyways, over the next decade this powerful and ever growing desire to be with women and pleasure them did not seem to be a problem. At least, it did not appear to be a problem from any outward appearances. Seemingly to me, my desires were normal because all the other boys talked about girls non – stop. If you could ask anyone who seems to think they know me well, what type of person I am, the chances are you will hear all sorts of excellent things. They’d probably tell you I was very; loyal, protective, trustworthy, brave, quiet, polite, kind, respectful, etc… All of this, in a sense, is mostly true. But, from the time I was young instinct had taught me to keep certain things hidden, especially strong sexual desires, which is why no one would have told you I was a sex addict. Perhaps I knew to hide this due to the fact that everyone else seemed to hide their deviant desires while they were in society and public. So what did I do? I completed middle school and high school while secretly trying to discretely wiggle my way into sexual relations with any woman who acted interested in me. Any date with a girl was a necessity to get what I truly wanted…sex. It wasn’t until I joined the military that I was forced to rest in my pursuit of women. Paris Island can keep guys and girls separated physically, but they can’t sever them from your mind.

Now, let us fast forward four years and see what happens to our American raised, curious and horny little boy–––––– We now have a disgruntled, alcohol infused, drug induced, extensively trained – combat veteran, who is fresh out of hostile combat zones, with the fresh memories and scars of his many dead brothers who never made it back. A 6’3 220 pound American made monster with a stronger desire than ever to be accepted by women. Oh yea, don’t let me forget to mention that all such things such as; compassion, sympathy, and all the morals concerning the human species and any concerns for the existence of the human species in general, were now absent in the mind of this monster. Such things were made to be irrelevant; they belonged to the weak and had no place in his world. Needless to say, it did not take long for this monster to expose his self. Granted, by any and all outward appearances, he was still a stellar guy, even a War Hero perhaps… A guy you wanted to have around you at all times. By now it should be a simple matter to see how someone like this could end up in Louisiana’s Penitentiary System. No one wants the kind of man I previously described in their society. Not even if that man had been willing to fight, die, and kill, for the very same society and Nation. Once a man harms one of his own, that man is to be punished and severely dealt with (depending on who he is and who he knows). That is of course, the mind – set of the masses. Punish him, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Even if it was an action taken in ignorance, punish him and make it harsh (unless he is considered important or knows someone considered important).

The event, which landed the previously described American Monster in jail, happened after a heavy night of drinking and drugging with friends; typical no? Then sometime in the wee – hours of the morning, one of America’s soon to be degenerates found him self in the house of a woman. They were the only two humans around, everyone was asleep, and there was no one else whom could provide an opinion as to what happened that night… A predators dream, a ladies nightmare.

Apparently, as the story goes, once the woman was captured by the predator, she attempted to resist and to fight. But, for the predator this bit of feeble resistance was not enough to discourage his desire. So he went on to do what he wanted to do and satisfied his wants. Immediately afterwards, he fell asleep in the bed with the woman. A few hours later, the monster was awakened by the sound of a closing door and found him self alone. In a delirious haze, the imbecile proceeded to rise and make his way back to his own house in order to sleep some more, perhaps this time in peace without further disturbance from the lady he faintly remembered from the night before. The next time this monster was to wake, it would be an awakening to a new era. A ten year era of chaos and horror that was to be dished out for the suffering he heaped upon another. The monster would awake and become one of the most detested creatures on earth, a rapist.

***

–––Brrrr, eeerrrrrrrr, brrrrrrrrrr!.... What the fuck is that?

I woke up alone and asked myself this question while fighting off the miasma from the night before. The sound was some strange noise inside of my home. It sounded like a fucking robot was snooping around inside of my house. Within a matter of seconds I’m up and ready with a Desert Eagle .45 in hand. I approached the door which led into the hall, I crouched and took a quick peek around the corner.–––

––– Holy Shit! It is a robot snooping around inside my home!

I accepted the thought then proceeded to climb on top of the dresser by the door and waited. If the robot came into the room it would be destroyed, naturally. The robot looked like a small curiosity rover, very clunky and not apparently very agile.

At the time I lived in a three bedroom trailer house in a decent neighborhood with my wife. This is straight shits for anyone who is under siege. There are very few corners in such a small house and hardly any obstacles to slow down intruders. Also, there are thin walls and windows everywhere. But, I knew where I needed to be and I got there. Where I needed to be was inches away and off to the side of the door way. This type of positioning makes one a nightmare for those who are trying to breach any location. That is, depending on whom you are and which method of breach is used. An hour passed and my senses were still honed in. I waited and listened in an attempt to discern what was happening. Patience had always been one of my strongest assets. This enduring patience was acquired over years of stalking the woods as a child and trying to remain invisible. I waited and listened as the robot searched the farthest room in the trailer. It found nothing–––

–––Brrrr, eerrrrrr, brrrrrrrrrrrr, went the robot as it made its way to the second of three rooms. It was during this time I risked another peak…–––

–––Damn! The robot was still in the hallway and I saw that the neck could stretch through doorways and openings. Stretching its neck is exactly what it was doing at the second room. This ability is great for the one who is operating the bot. It saves them from having to maneuver the entire machine through doors. Trying to do so puts the robot in great risk.

–––Back to square one, I tell myself. Have patience, wait and listen. Eventually they’ll make a mistake. People always do and a survivor capitalizes on those mistakes.

Brrrr. Errrr, brrrrrrrr, brrrr, brr, br, br, br, b, b, b, b, Haha! I laughed to myself as I listened to the robot, now apparently glitched out or stuck on something. I sat and listened to its desperate struggle for nearly two hours. Not once during all this time did I ever understand as to why the robot was even in my house. But, I still wasn’t planning to expose myself and my position any time soon. After so long of struggling, the robot finally seemed to make its way back to the front door of the house. I could hear people talking and trying to retrieve it. Do they dare enter I asked myself taking aim at the front door from deep in the hallway with my Desert Eagle–––

–––No, they just want their robot.

But, I could hear their voices and one of those voices said–––

–––all of the rooms have been cleared except for the master bedroom.

Perfect, another mistake. Time to move, I told myself. For, I would much rather be on the side of the trailer which has been deemed as cleared. With that I dropped down from the dresser and began to crawl. Fucking windows everywhere, I mumbled.

Within a minute I was in a new position. A much better position because it was in a location which had already been deemed as clear. On top of that, I now know who I am up against… S.W.A.T., Sherriff’s Office, State Police, SCAT, etc… You name it, they were all there. Everywhere I looked there were cops. I realized I was totally surrounded and I paused to wonder–––

–––But why?

I let the thought slide and seized my military grade body armor and slapped it on. I’ve already weighed my odds. There was no way out of this situation alive, but I’m wondering how many of the bastards I can take with me before the ghost escapes my body. I move back into position by the door and wait. From where I was at, the first two people to enter would be dead in a matter of two seconds. The third person would hopefully shit himself, stutter step, then die. By then I should have two new rifles and a bit more ammunition. Don’t blame me for thinking this way. No, thank the Corps. They taught me how to think in such ways and made me believe the first one to strike with the utmost amount of violence was proper in all aspects of life. Never, not once did they hint or suggest I should stop thinking in a way that suited them.

For another hour I waited, in a perfect blind spot. No more than two or three feet from the front door. I exercised my patience and remained calm, alert and aware of what needed to be done. As fortune would have it, they did not come through that door and the drugs and alcohol from the night before had begun to wear off. I remembered I had friends, brothers, a mother, and a wife. I remembered they would not want to see me in such a state. I remembered how much it would pain them to see me fall. So, I decided to do what I was never taught to do before… surrender.–––

–––What the fuck I thought, stepping from the trailer with my hands up. I looked around at the officers and I recognized over half of the faces. These were guys I had grown up with, went to school with and played ball with. The same guys I used to foot race across the fields during summer camp. It struck me hard because, moments before I was willing to kill them or force them to kill me. I didn’t dwell on this thought for long because the drugs were wearing off fast and feeling sorrow for anything, indicates one has a conscious or a moral code to go by. Morals and sympathy if you remember were things I had already done away with at the time of this event. But still, a tiny part of me shook as some soft spoken, distant inner voice said–––

–––You almost killed your friends and forced them to kill you

The monster in charge dismissed the thought with a single blow–––

–––So what? They are irrelevant to our goals it said.

I don’t remember the ride in the back of the police car. Though I must have been some sort of ride somewhere because suddenly, I found myself in an interrogation room. It felt as if I were in that room for hours. It felt as though I were left in there alone, for the entire day. But, randomly people would come and go, asking weird questions. At times I’d sleep and all the while, I was handcuffed to a table for reasons unknown to myself. At one point a man came in and sat down across from me. It was a man I knew from my childhood. His son and I played ball together, he worked with my uncle on the police force, and his wife was one of my teachers… In other words, we were connected. He sat down across from me and neither one of us said a word; we just stared at each other. He looked at me gravely and I looked at him with what must have appeared to be confusion and frustration on my face. After several minutes