Porn Again Christian – Part 1: I’m Scared

This is a dramatized account of a true story. My true story (just with different names and locations). It’s told from two time periods, from the start of my life, and from the start of my prison sentence. My story is not an easy one to tell. It’s not a safe testimony. And it’s a brutally honest one. I only ask one thing: If you are going to read any part of it, read the entire story, beginning to end. This story is both about my human weaknesses and God’s righteous power. If you know someone with similar struggles, please share this with them. If it was up to me, I would never tell my story, but God has called me to give others hope and help guide them towards Him, because no human being is worthless and everyone deserves another chance.

Now.

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are,” she responded. “But you’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Scott had never even been sent to the Principal’s office in his life and now he sat with his wife and parents, waiting to surrender himself to a Federal prison. He was a bigger guy, but only 22-years-old. And he has never been this scared in his life.

11 Years Before Now.

“Look what I found in the back of my closet!” Scott said, opening a box left behind by his oldest brother a few months earlier.

“Holy cow!” Tony said. Tony was one of his best friends from school, and both of them were only 11-years-old, so all of this was very new to them.

Scott pulled one out and opened it, flipping through its pages. Tony grabbed one too and did the same. The boys sat down on the ground and flipped through every dirty magazine in the box over the next hour.

Scott didn’t know it yet, but what he had just discovered would start a chain reaction in his life that would lead to prison.

Now.

Scott hugged his mom and dad and thanked them for everything they’d done for him.

He then turned his attention to his wife, Christa, knowing it would be a long time before he would see her again. He hugged her as tight as he could, kissed her, and fought back his tears.

She looked in his eyes, “You are going to be fine. I promise.”

Scott nodded in reluctant agreement. “I know.”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Scott took a deep breath and turned around, being let into a gate by the guard. Scott turned around for one last look before walking into the prison door.

He was immediately taken to strip down completely naked. He had to be poked and prodded to prove he wasn’t smuggling anything in, like drugs or weapons. It was completely humiliating and the most uncomfortable he had even been.

Being an overweight man, they didn’t have clothes readily available that fit him, so he was wearing a shirt and pants several sizes too small and shoes with no laces and his heels sticking out over the back. Then, it was into a holding cell as he waited for processing.

At first he was alone, but soon, an entire bus full of transfers from another prison arrived and filled up the room. All of them had already been serving time, so they were unfazed by being there. Scott, however, was a fish out of water, afraid to talk. Afraid to move. Afraid of what everyone else here did to get here and what they would do if they found out what he had done.

“Scott!” a guard called out. “Scott Erikson!”

He immediately stood up and walked out of the holding cell. He was escorted to a small interview room with two officials.

“Sit down.”

Scott sat, so nervous he was shaking. The guards did little to calm his nerves.

“We are finishing up your entrance paperwork, but I needed to give you some advice. Whatever you do, do not tell anybody why you’re in here.”

Scott nodded.

“I mean it. Not a word to anyone, because there are people in here that will kill you without asking a single question. Make up a story and stick to it. Drugs, taxes, anything. Got it?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” the man shoved papers and pen across the table. “Sign this.”

Scott signed his papers and pushed them back.

“Get out of here.” Scott could hear the disgust in the man’s voice. He couldn’t hold it against him. Scott was disgusted with himself too.

10 Years Before Now.

It had already been a long year for Scott and his family. His mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to spend several weeks in the hospital and was still undergoing treatment to keep it at bay.

But things were about to be turned upside down again, when his parents told him they were moving.

“Why?” Scott asked.

“Well, your father’s business is failing. Going bankrupt. And we are going bankrupt too.”

Scott didn’t fully understand what “going bankrupt” meant, but he knew it meant they were out of money. And because of this, they would have to move several hours away to stay with his grandparents.

“There’s something else,” his mom added. “You can’t tell anyone yet.”

“What? Why not?!” Scott demanded.

“Because if word gets out, no one is going to go to your father’s business. We need whatever money we can get until the day we shut down in May.”

“So, I’m just supposed to pretend like everything is normal for two months and then tell all my friends the day before we leave?!”

“I’m sorry, honey. But we don’t have a choice.”

Scott went to his room. He was mature for his age, he always had been. He hardly ever acted out or got in trouble, the older he got. He didn’t argue. He understood. But he didn’t have to like it.

Scott had to mature quicker than most kids. His parents were having problems, had been for a few years. His dad’s business had been going south for a while, and it was having an effect on the family. His father got distant from his mother. He walled himself off, emotionally.

His mother, on the other hand, was desperate for interaction. She needed some emotional connection, someone to talk to. She didn’t plan on putting Scott in that position, but it just sort of happened. He became her sounding board, the person she could vent her feelings and problems to.

Scott didn’t mind this. He often enjoyed the talks they had, but being a male, he felt like his mom was telling him her problems because he was supposed to fix them. And being a boy, he really couldn’t do anything. He didn’t realize it at the time, but this was creating in him a depression.

Depression ran in the family. His mother, his grandmother, several others have suffered from it. And this feeling of failing his mom was feeding the problem within him as well.

And now, he would have to move. And he couldn’t even tell Tony.

At this moment, he did what he had been doing for a while whenever he felt overwhelmed. He pulled out one of those magazines and masturbated to it. And, at least for a moment, he was happy.

Now.

Scott was escorted to Unit 3, his new home. He didn’t yet have an assigned room, so they stuck him in one of the few empty beds in the unit. He was assigned to the top bunk of the three-tiered bunk bed.

He was a fish out of water. Everyone he saw was muscular, tattooed, and scary-looking. Scott was just overweight.

He put his very few possessions into his assigned locker before he was pulled out of his room by a man called Thumper. Thumper was one of the leaders of the White Supremacists, and he introduced Scott to all the white men in the unit. Scott, not trusting anyone, just played along.

“Now,” Thumper said, in a serious tone, “As one of us, you need to know: If stuff goes down around here, you are expected to fight for your own. We protect each other. Pull your weight if a fight breaks out.”

Scott agreed, but his thoughts were quite the opposite. If a fight breaks out, I’m hiding under the bunks.

The day went by quickly and Scott was exhausted. He climbed on top of his bunk and lay there until finally drifting asleep.

*BAM* Scott jerked awake. He had been sleeping on his stomach and apparently started snoring. The person underneath him couldn’t sleep with the snoring, and his response was to punch the mattress from underneath, right where Scott’s face was.

Scott did his best to stay awake and let the others sleep before he went back to sleep, but each time, he was punched in the face beneath through the mattress. Four or five times this happened. By the third time, Scott began to cry, afraid. If he was getting hit from just his snoring on the very first night, he was terrified of what would happen in the days to come.

CONTINUE TO PART TWO