The Horrors of a Pentecostal Prison School

I do wish to remain anonymous until charges are actually filed. This was a long time ago, so I doubt there will be any. This cult (which is still somehow a recognized religion) has a history of legal and physical harassment against people who try to pursue action against them. So, to avoid legal issues I'm going to redact/change every name, and location. I'll leave as many hints as I can though.
For reasons I mentioned above, I can't really give a specific year but I was 16 when they sent me there. My mother's family somehow got custody of me two years after her death. They claimed my father's depression after her death caused him to start abusing alcohol, and his job with the oil field meant he would not be a fit parent because he was gone a lot.
This could not be further from the truth; he was not an alcoholic and was the best father anyone could ask for. However, he was gone at the time, working in Ecuador, and although he knew what was going on, he could not get back in time to testify. They are very crafty, these people. The PTL network, for example, survived numerous legal scandals before Jim Baker was finally caught being the scumbag he is. But to this day, the evangelical and Pentecostal churches around the country still wield a lot of legal and monetary resources.
So, I was forced to live with them, my "family"; I thought that was bad, but I hadn't seen shit. They had always disliked the secular way my father ran the house, and try as my mom did, she could not convert either of us to this insanity they call the correct way of living. I think in their grief at losing her, they felt the need to take charge of my upbringing (little late?). Let me give you a rundown of what these people ACTUALLY believe and do.
"Pentecostal" comes from the word Pentecost (coming from the Greek phrase pentecost'e which roughly translates to "fifth", or the fifth day after Passover). This refers to an event in the new testament after the death of Jesus (I think he dipped off to India but believe what you want). It is still commemorated today after Easter, and in the UK it's referred to as White Sunday. The apostles were given the ability to speak in other languages and preached the new religion we call Christianity to the people of Jerusalem, each person hearing the sermon in their own language.
This is where the practice of "speaking in tongues" comes from. Pentecostals believe that they can become possessed by the Holy Spirit, and can then suddenly speak in other languages like the apostles. If you have never watched this, check it out on YouTube, it's hilarious. Imagine a bunch of badly dressed weirdos of every type spouting gibberish and then passing out together. I think the funniest part is it sounds like they are attempting Yiddish or Arabic usually, but it comes out sounding like "shalalalala gahablahblah". But this isn't a joke, it's psychosis. They believe in all sorts of other weird shit too. For example, some of them believe music with heavy bass and drum beats is a form of satanic brainwashing. They also think any sort of triangle is a satanic symbol that's collects demons.
The cure for most ailments in the Pentecostal household is a primitive form of exorcism called "deliverance". In their mind, demons are everywhere, and constantly trying to undermine their efforts in life. Lets say you saw the neighbor girl going for a jog in some short shorts, and you get a little stiffy? Or maybe your didn't get that raise at work so you got a little angry and broke something? Well, then you need some deliverance, buddy, because that was a demon just now.
This would consist of several people screaming their asses off at the alleged demons that are inside you for a few hours. needless to say, I didn't get to talk about girls a lot with my mom growing up. If you wanna know more about this kind of insane bullshit, watch the Prophecy Club. This was a particular favorite, I remember, and perfectly lays out all the science fiction level whacky shit they think is actually going on in the world. This includes anything from the Illuminati to vampires and werewolves.
The way they got me into this place without me punching and kicking and running for a police station was simple, yet I fell for it. My uncle told me we were going up north to do some custom tile work, and it was a big contract. I remember I was really stoked. I was also really dumb.
A little background on me; at the time, I was a pretty normal 16-year-old. I smoked a little weed, played guitar in a death metal band, thought high school was a joke. I worked a lot for a teenager, and I always liked having more money than my peers who had to rely on an allowance. My dad was an avid craftsman and when he wasn't working for the oil company, starting when I was 13, we did a lot of remodeling projects together. By the time I was 16, I could do drywall faster than an ex-con, and I could install four types of flooring, my roofing skills were pretty solid too. I made very good money and used it to buy music gear mostly; my band was everything to me. We played a lot of shows and got sort of popular locally.
All this went away of course when I was forced to move in with them. The first thing my uncle did was smash my mesa dual rectifier (expensive amp head I saved for four months to afford) with a sledge hammer, and he gave my guitar to his fat idiot of a son. He said I had been infected by Satan, and that all the music I made was evil spells meant to enslave my peers. So all my clothes, my notebooks, and my phone got burned too.
I thought this was as bad as it could get. I was forced to wear dorky clothes like their kids, and was also required to listen to sermons by my uncle and study numerology. I also got a good education in creationism and right-wing conspiracy theories about the Zionist occupied government and the Jewish agenda to destroy America. Oh yeah, I'm Jewish on my dad's side. They were pretty sore about that one.
They called this "home schooling". This pissed me off to no end. I heard a lot of stuff that you would expect somebody like David Icke would say. Apparently, people rode dinosaurs, and giant fallen angels smashed human women and somehow they gave birth to children who were also giants. Also the world is a flat aquarium. Fuck it?! Elves break into your room at night and cum in your socks. Girls don't poop. See? It's fun! But it's also kind of not though. When people actually hit "fuck it?!" in the reality department, it's ugly.
After a curtain period of time, it became somewhat bearable. My uncle also did construction work, so despite my massive hatred of the man, I worked for him and saved every cent I had. My dad and grandmother had hired a lawyer, but my mom's family had more money and were able to make my dad look bad in court, so it went slow.
In that particular area, my uncle was well respected. The judge that presided over the case was actually one of them, went to the same church my uncle did, if I'm not mistaken. They even tried to blame my dad for my mom giving up on chemo and dying. For supposedly godly people, they would sink however low they had to in order to get their way.
I think when they realized they couldn't turn me into one of them, they decided they had to send me to that place. We got there at about three in the afternoon. Once again, if I get too specific, these loony fuckers will sue me. But I will say that to my disbelief, I later found out this place was a twenty minute drive to a spot where Jim Jones had once operated. The staff also included a former people's temple member. I'm not kidding, the guy even talked about Jones FONDLY.
The buildings were all white, the compound was on a steep hill near a truck stop. I saw a sign that said "church school" and thought, oh, we are probably re-doing the tile in their gym showers. I had done this before at a football camp, and it was always a good pay out because of the extensive work that's required. God, I was retarded.
When I got to the "job site" it was actually a kitchen. It was pretty nasty, and the floor had been taken out to make way for this ugly green tile. It was being slowly put in by a bunch of kids my age in matching polo shirts and slacks. I joined them, thinking maybe they were student volunteers or something. I corrected a few things, clearly none of them had done this before. My uncle hung back and talked with the staff in hushed tones. I was about two hours into the job and went to the ice chest for some water. That's where the job ended, and the horrors began. Unknown to me, the water had tranquilizer in it. I quickly passed out.
I woke up in a small white, washed cell, lying on a concrete slab and dressed the same as the boys I had seen working on the tile. As I regained consciousness over the next hour or so, I pretty much worked out in my head what had transpired, and I was MAD. I kicked the plexi-glass door until I sprained my foot, I screamed until I went hoarse. I cried. I was in there for two days before I was let out into what they called a dorm. I would later find out all this was apparently legal under "loco parentis". My uncle signed some paperwork, paid some money, and now I belonged to these people like the movie rights for Star Wars.
It was a small building, it housed about 18 boys around the same age as me. This would be my home for the next two years. Most of them had been in trouble all their lives and had behavioral problems. A few were some of the dumbest fuckers I've ever met. One poor guy was a total dork that had landed in there for smoking a cigarette. Another kid had been put in there because his parents suspected he was gay. Ironically, he wasn't; he was just sort of girly and actually enjoyed pussy quite a bit. That guy was cool, and he had somehow smuggled in a lot of hustlers. As you might guess, in a place where teenage boys are confined for years, pussy was a hot topic of conversation at all times.
It was a beyond shitty place to live. The air conditioning was terrible, and it was the middle of summer when I first got there. The bathrooms, despite us cleaning them frequently, were unsanitary. The toilets backed up frequently, and we spent a lot of time cleaning shit-water off the floor. The schooling consisted of a creationist online program which we did on computers. I'm guessing the reason for his was that nobody on staff here actually possessed the proper education to be a teacher.
The food, well, the food was terrible in more ways than one. It was always some kind of casserole or kiesh. It was made fattening on purpose, I think. We were also subjected to five hour church services four times a week, which I actually looked forward to. Because when we weren't in church they always came up with some sort of back-breaking work for us.
We mowed the entire soccer field with push mowers, we took care of their horses and worked in their vegetable gardens (this I didn't mind, I like gardening). Some of these people were afraid to even eat food from the grocery store. They thought it was poisoned with mind control chemicals. Think anti-vaxers on steroids. When they couldn't find work for us, we got to stack heavy cinderblocks for absolutely no reason. This is an important part of cult brainwashing, they never give people any downtime. The Church of Scientology is famous for using this trick on sea org members.
They had girls there too, but whenever our line passed theirs around the compound, we were forced to hold our hands on the side of our face like horse blinders. Looking at one of the girls could get you a beating and two days of no food. Oh yeah, they had corporal punishment here too. I actually believe in slapping around a brat once in awhile, but this stuff got ridiculous at times. For example, all the bunks had leather loops on the side, and if you were caught jacking off, they'd zip tie your hands to these for the rest of the night.
I remember after the dorky kid forgot to organize his foot locker properly: the dorm leader gave him a nice sized shiner and forced him to do push-ups while he made another kid kick him in the stomach if he got one wrong. The asshole was a Marine Corps drop out, who thought he was Sergeant Hartman for Jesus. If I meet up with him again... I'll have him water-boarded and thrown over the Mexican border into a cactus patch. But not without raw meat stapled to him to attract coyotes for a slow and painful death. That's me letting him off easy. That guy was a true monster.
I saw a lot of fucked up stuff happen to people here. I saw kids get beat, starved, forced to work in the hot sun and cold snow, and get hog-tied while shitting themselves and screaming for their parents. Fights were common, and I was small, so if I had soda or something valuable like that I had to hide it well, or have it stolen and get beaten senseless by one of those dumb apes with the behaviour problems. All the dumb ones formed a little clique and they would bully the shit out of everyone. I hung out with them. Better to stay on the right side of the big ones in such places. I still got beaten up a good bit though anyway.
I had taken about four months of this, before I decided I was going to make an escape attempt. I stole some bread from the kitchen, found a backpack in the staff office. I hadn't attempted this earlier because I was unclear on exactly where I was. We went on a sort of field trip once to a church in the area and after looking around. I had a decent idea what part of the country I was in and where the town was.
I decided to take the dorky kid with me; we'll call him Winston. Big mistake. But I felt bad leaving Winston there, He was literally being tortured daily by the staff and the other boys. He told me he had been there for three years. We snuck out and got about 100 feet from the dorm when a flashlight hit us. The dorm leader had woken up and done a bed check earlier than I expected. I pushed Winston ahead of me and yelled, "RUN!!"
The dorm leader and two other staff chased us for about a mile until Winston couldn't go any more. On top of being fat, they had recently cut off his food because he was doing bad in school, so he couldn't hack it. I didn't leave him though. I tried to hold him up and keep his legs moving but he eventually collapsed. I stood over him and fought the first staff guy who caught up with us. He was an older dude. I hit him as hard I could in the nuts and face, he went down, and I kept trying to get Winston on his feet. But the dorm leader and the bigger staff guy got there and they were too much for me. They eventually got me on the ground. Cowards couldn't even fight a starving little kid one on one. Marine my ass.
We were dragged back, kicking and screaming, and stripped down to our boxers. We were both shoved into to the white washed cells with plexi-glass doors. The first time I had been in one of these, I hadn't noticed the worst part about them. In the ceiling, was a very small, but very powerful speaker. Those evil motherfuckers started blasting praise and worship music at us 24 hours a day. I tried plugging my ears. I guessed they were watching, because when I did, they would crank the volume. It was the same third day song over and over again. But it wasn't loud enough to drown out Winston screaming in the cell next to me. This went on for about three days. I eventually was able to rip pieces off my boxers to make ear plugs. This made it somewhat bearable. I still have nightmares about that.
When we were let out, Winston was covered in bruises and completely mute. He never spoke again the entire time I was there. I have a pretty good idea what they did to him in there. I'm not going into it, save to say he couldn't sit down for awhile. I always heard rumors about the dorm leader doing this but I never actually saw it go down. I'm pretty sure I heard it though. It takes something pretty bad to make a person scream for that long.
I became the highest rank I could in their little system, and got promoted to $*%#&% (once again that's too much detail). I was in charge of the dorm second only to the dorm leader, and had my own room. I was one of only two boys I knew that actually got up there, as it took an almost inhuman level of brown nosing. It made my last nine months a lot bearable. I used this position to help the other boys there. I rarely disciplined anyone unless we pre planned it, or they REALLY deserved it. I got so good at choreographing fake beatings, I could work for the WWE.
Any time I found a bag of chips or other contraband, I would take it and later return it in secret, or give them a smile and put it back in its hiding place. As for the dumbasses that beat me up when I first got there though, well... They spent a lot of time cleaning up shit-water or polishing my church shoes until we all actually became somewhat friendly.
They had this sort of leader who claimed he was here for selling crack and was bigger than everyone else. I later found out his mom put him in there after he beat her to the point of hospitalization. I was able to use this info to blackmail him into doing whatever I wanted. In gang/prison culture, hurting your fam is a big no-no. After I had this feather in my cap, the dummies weren't a problem anymore.
I started becoming a pretty scary person at about that time, maybe that's why they started to respect me a little. I outsmarted any attempt The "Idiot club" as I called them, made at deposing me from my position. I also hung out with the ones who were cool to me, and smuggled them in an IPod with some good music. I never sent anyone to the white cells though. After a while I was very popular and respected.
One of the most disturbing things about this place, was their brainwashing worked. As I said before, a lot of the guys here were DUMB. I mean like stick a fork in an outlet dumb. They had been put here because their parents were too lazy or too old to deal with their behavioural issues. This made them very vulnerable to the religious bullshit the staff was preaching. They would put on very elaborate church services. I played guitar in the small worship band that included three of the younger staff members. The whole atmosphere was highly charged, and there was a lot of crying, laying on of hands, and about half of the boys started converting and becoming scary religious. I literally watched it happen.
First, it was just a few of them. They would stand in the front and listen to our soft music and start crying, then after they passed out from crying so hard, the pastor or another staff would give them what is called "personal prophecy" which consisted of a rundown of who they were now, and what they were now going to be in life. The staff was very good at it, after all, they spent every day with these kids. They knew us all very well.
I watched it all while I stood up there strumming chords, completely in awe of the most extreme mind-fuckery I had ever seen. I later learned that curtain music notes, if played right, have a profound effect on the emotional function of people. It hit the girls much harder than us, they were all converted within the first year mostly. I'm not trying to be sexist I'm just telling you what happened. I'm guessing they were just less abusive with the girls and that's why it worked faster.
I soon found myself surrounded by brainwashed teenagers acting all sorts of fucked off. Now everybody was speaking in tongues. Now nobody was in reality. Nobody but me. I started to worry they would all turn on me. Thank God I can act. I had never feigned a religious conversion before. Luckily this was crazy town, and I'm the fucking mayor of crazy town. Going through all this, I hadn't lost who I was, but I learned how to lie. And I had learned a lot about the culture I was seemingly trapped in with no hope. I did the crying (wasn't hard, my life sucked), listened to all the bullshit the pastor said. Actually, I didn't listen because I don't even remember what the fuck he said.
I even made up a vision off the top of my head that I allegedly had. I said the pastor was going to need the help of a person important to him soon. I tried to go with something really broad, I'd read a book about cold reading once. I had reasoned his car was going to stall out soon by the way it sounded. It did. He had to call the dorm leader. Bam, instant prophet. I was a hit, I came up with a few more juicy ones and earned myself a lot more special privileges. The hardest part was holding in the laughs. But the insanity I had lived for years now had weakened my grasp on reality too. I shudder when I remember actually entertaining the idea I had spooky powers.
I got out when I was 18, and I haven't heard about what happened to anyone else but Winston. He hung himself a year later. That was a long time ago. The whole experience scarred me; I bounced around a lot, completely lost and disturbed by the whole thing. It took awhile but I eventually rose above and live well now. I don't do tile anymore btw.
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