Risen From Prison. Bosco H. C. Poon
Читать онлайн.| Название | Risen From Prison |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Bosco H. C. Poon |
| Жанр | Биографии и Мемуары |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Биографии и Мемуары |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9781988928265 |
Contents
Nightmare
In the Beginning
Changes
Just a Dream
I Met a Girl
Keep Fighting
So It Began
Behind the Bars
Sanctuary
Awakening
One Last Time
Unexpected Departure
The Truth
Servanthood
Forgiveness
A Hint Of Freedom
Time To Move On
A Step Closer
A Bittersweet Goodbye
Telling My Story
The NExt Chapter
Chapter 1
Nightmare
“No, no, NOOOOO … stay away from me!” I screamed, accidentally falling off the couch like a startled cat, but, unlike a cat, I didn’t land on my feet. My shoulder hit the carpet with a thud, and the side of my head followed. “Ouch, that hurt! Whoa … how long have I been sleeping?” I mumbled to myself—still half-asleep. I was drenched in sweat. It was another bad dream. Seems they were coming fast and furious these days, given the mess I had gotten myself tangled in.
I rubbed my forehead and struggled to recall what I had been doing when I fell asleep. Through the crack between the curtains I could see that it was already dark, and judging by where the moon was, I guessed it was about midnight. As I strained to survey the dark empty room—my computer room—I suddenly had a flash of intense memories of all of the things that had happened there. They came like a little slide show.
I remembered our first day in this house. It was just as empty then as it was now and with just as many nail holes in the drywall, dust bunnies on the floor, dead bugs between the windows, and cobwebs in the corners. Piece by piece, my family had cobbled together enough money to furnish the place and make it seem like a home.
In this room I had parked my first desktop computer—the kind that came in a huge case and occupied half of the workspace. I had smoked my first cigarette with my head sticking out the window so my mom wouldn’t bust me. I had my first private guitar lesson, practised for my first public performance, and composed my first song—all of this on the very same wood-framed couch. It was a room of firsts—like a treasure box of my teenagehood. And now, in the same manner I had first seen it, it was empty again. We were moving, and the house was up for sale.
I was enjoying all of these fond memories until I heard a hoarse and emotional voice yelling from the basement: “Help me! Please! Please, let me go! Is anybody up there? Someone, please help!”
All of a sudden, stark reality shattered my reverie, and I recalled exactly why I was here. Oh no! This can’t be happening, I thought. This was way beyond playing Grand Theft Auto on PlayStation or watching Alpha Dog on the big screen.
What a mess, I thought, what a horrible mistake! Some innocent kid was tied up in the basement of my parents’ house. I didn’t know why Blade had picked this guy to kidnap. It seemed more or less random to me.
What have I become? I berated myself. I knew there was a risk that this could all go sideways, but I never dreamed it would end up in a tailspin so quickly. If I recall correctly, it had begun two weeks prior.
_______
With the “For Sale” sign planted on the front lawn, my parents’ house had been vacant for eight weeks. It was built on a hillside at the edge of a neighbourhood called Westwood Plateau, which is in the north end of the city of Coquitlam in British Columbia, Canada. My family had lived here ever since we arrived in Canada from Hong Kong, but we had recently moved to Richmond, BC, a suburb of Vancouver that was a lot closer to the recording studios I was working with. Blade and a few other old schoolmates of mine told me they wanted to “throw a party” and asked if I would let them use the empty house as a venue. I was hesitant, but they kept pressuring me to say yes to the idea. It got more awkward as Blade kept changing the story when it came to the purpose of using my house. I knew something was fishy and tried to avoid his calls. Then he showed up at the front door of my Richmond home.
“Hey, brother, why don’t you pick up my calls?” Blade greeted me with a big smile.
“Hey, man, I’m so busy these days. You are always calling at a bad time. I can’t pick up in the middle of meetings, you know.”
“Well, you’re not in a meeting now, are you?”
“Yeah … I can talk now … What’s up?”
“Yo, listen, I know what you’re thinking, ’cause you know me too well. And you’re right; I need a favour again.”
“Oh man … Again? I knew it!”
“You gotta help your brother out. I’m in some deep sh*t … and you’re the only one that can get me out. A couple weeks back, I was gonna triple my chips at the casino, but man, I lost it all—10Gs, man! I needed it back big time! My girlfriend’s money was in there too. So I talked to my buddy, and he helped me out. He lent me some chips. I went back in. The second round was good, and I made it all back. But gosh, I was too greedy! I just didn’t know when to stop.”
“Come