You don’t know us, but you’ve heard of us. You’ve heard what we do for each
other. We rely on a lot of secrecy, but we are not evil. We’re just a group
of like-minded individuals who help each other succeed in life. We don’t
cover up murders, or child-trafficking, despite what many of the rumors say
about us. At least, I don’t think that ever happened. I ended up in a pickle
once, and it nearly ruined my life, so maybe I’ve always been naïve about
the whole thing. This will be my final confession. I was walking home from a
night class once when men in masks jumped me, and stuffed me into a van.
I’ve never been much of a fighter. I don’t like violent sports, or watching
two dudes go after each other in the parking lot. But this was a life or
death situation, as far as I knew, so I kicked and I screamed, and I got
myself out of there. I actually jumped out of a moving vehicle, and started
to run away. Well, they caught up to me, and took off their masks, promising
that they weren’t trying to hurt me. I was being recruited into a secret
society. It wasn’t associated with the school, though I know a lot of things
like this are. Their requirement is that every new member be in their first
year at university, but I never really did understand how they chose us, or
what criteria they looked for. The reason I mention it is because it takes a
certain type of man to agree to join a group that just scared him half to
death. I was skeptical, of course, but I was intrigued, and a little
excited. I joined, and found myself surprised, and a little bored. We mostly
just sat around, talking about fair women that we knew. There was a tutoring
program, and a sort of insurance fund we paid into that could be used in
extreme circumstances. Again, it wasn’t meant to be for a murder charge, but
a request could be made to get out of jail.
Our brotherhood developed a network; a network like any other. Everyone does
this; they know people, or they know people who know people. We just do it
more officially and formally. This was before social media made it easy to
crowdsource the solution to problems. But like social media, some members of
the network were less connected than others. They weren’t completely
unconnected, and they weren’t left out on purpose, but they weren’t as good
at maintaining relationships. There was one guy who was particularly
unconnected. He really only knew me by the time his problem rolled
around, which meant that I was the guy he called. We worked together, but I
didn’t know him that well compared to my relationships with some people
outside of the brotherhood, but he probably would have considered me to be
his best friend. So he calls me up and tells me he thinks he’s run someone
over. He felt a bump as he was driving, and found blood on the grill of his
car once he got home. I manage to calm him down, and tell him that it was
probably just an animal. Well, it wasn’t. I saw on the news that night that
a young woman died from a hit-and-run, and it was about where my brother
described it. I regretted my earlier advice, and told him to turn himself
in, but he claimed he wasn’t obligated to do a thing. He threatened to have
me fired, and he had such power at the time. I didn’t know what to do. It
may seem obvious to you—especially now—but things were really complicated
from that side of the dilemma. He was putting me in such an awkward
position. I had to choose between doing the right thing, and protecting my
career. So I stayed quiet, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last
fifteen years. I guess the silver lining to dying is finally being free from
this burden.
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