Jeffery made his way slowly down the winding path. He hated being the football teams equipment manager, water boy was more like it, but it was his father’s suggestion and there was no getting around that. Even now at the age of eighteen he still didn’t have the back bone to stand up to his father, let alone the kids at college. "Wimp" was what they’d call after him, as he walked down the corridors at Turner Junior College. Walking home that night, Jeffery couldn’t push the image from his mind. His feet moved on their own, using some mental compass to guide him through the woods. He had reached the halfway point, when his thoughts were disturbed by. sounds from the other side a bushes.
The moans came louder as he drew closer and with them came voices. He could tell from the light ring of immature…