Adam - Printable Edition

8/22/2019 Adam - Printable Edition

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Adam

By Timothy Pruett

Copyright 2013 by Timothy Pruett

The right of Timothy Pruett to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by

her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act

1988.

All rights reserved. You may distribute and share this eBook, provided the content hasnot been changed and proper attribution is given.


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His name was Adam, and I'll never forget him. Nor will I ever forgive him. Or maybe it's

myself that I can't forgive. He was a simple child, and he had a natural goodness about him, the

kind that you so rarely see in people. How I let such a bad thing happen to such a person, I'llnever know or understand.

It was August, and the trees were just beginning to shed their leaves. I remember the swirl of

brilliant reds and oranges and yellows, like a million miniature sunrises dancing off the trees. Itwas August, and my mother brought me out to the country, to stay for a week with my aunt,hoping that she could get me out of the house, like a good little boy.

That's still how she thinks of me, as her good little boy. Never mind that I'm an adult now,

working a man's job. Never mind the terrible thing I let happen, the thing that aged me more

than all the years have.

It wasn't really my fault. That's what I tell myself, at least. I don't really believe it. Maybethat's why I'm telling all of this now, so long after it happened. A chance for absolution, or at

least resolution. It wasn't all my fault, though. The blame is shared with another.

Another boy was staying with Aunt Clara that fall. Mike, that was his name. He was a mean,

nasty boy, with a ruddy complexion and a ridiculous looking crew cut that made him seem older

than his age. He was a bully at heart, the kind that you follow because you dare not put yourselfat the receiving end of his torments.

Adam was my cousin, Mike was no relation. Just the child of one of Aunt Clara's friends,

who thought that the country air would do the boy some good. As if anything would do Mikeany good. The boy was a spiteful, hateful little demon who's mother adored him and thought him

to be perfect. You see, he was the kind who was real good at sucking up to adults. It wasn't until

they left that he revealed his true nature.

Adam was like an angel, all goodness and innocence. A little slow, but you'd never meet akinder person. Slow people tend to be that way. Maybe they just don't know how to be mean. Or

maybe they have to compensate for their ignorance with an intolerable goodness. I don't know.

My first night there, I cried. I didn't want to stay. I wanted to go home. I wasn't much of an

outdoors person, and I still ain't, to tell you the truth. I wanted to go home and read, or watchTV, or do anything besides stay in that farmhouse miles away from anywhere, stuck there with

Adam and Mike.

I didn't cry in front of them, though. In front of Mike, I feared getting bullied. In front of

Adam, I would have been ashamed. I wanted Adam to think of me as a good person, and Iwanted Mike to think I was a tough guy. So I cried alone, a silent cry with dry eyes and sobs that

went no further than my own ears.

The next day, Aunt Clara booted us out of the house to go play outside. She did it nicely, of

course, but the message was clear. The farm was small, but the fields still seemed to go onforever, and the woods beyond them stretched out into infinity. I recently went back to the farm.

It now belongs to new owners, but the forest and fields were the same. It made me laugh, to see

how small they were. Everything seems so much grander when you're a kid.Playtime with Adam and Mike started out simple enough. Hide and seek at first, which we

eventually abandoned as impossible since it was so easy to get lost in those vast woods. Then wemoved on to crueler games. Mike recognized Adam for what he was, and picked on him every

chance he got. Adam was too simple to realize he was the butt of the jokes and laughed with

him. I felt bad for him but I laughed too, afraid of seeming different.

It was Mike's idea to play cops and robbers. He made Adam play the robber and we were the


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cops. When we caught Adam, Mike forced him to the ground roughly, shoved his face in the dirt

and made him eat grass as a punishment. Adam cried until Mike convinced him that it was all

part of the game, convinced him that it wasfun to eat grass, and have a face full of dirt.Adam seemed to have no breaking point. The games got progressively nastier but he took

them all in stride.

It wasn't until that fifth fateful day came along, that my life was forever changed. I'll neverforget a single detail, despite my desperate desire to be free of those horrible memories. It was alesson in mob dynamics. I learned that a mob can consist of just two people, and that once you're

caught up in a mob you'll go wherever it takes you, whether it seems right or wrong. You can't

help it. It's like being seized by a force greater than yourself, as if a powerful wind picked you

up, free to carry you where it will.

The morning began innocently enough, a simple old-fashioned breakfast of scrambled eggs,bacon, and toast lining our bellies for the day to come. I could never eat that same meal again,

after that. I mean, sure, I could eat eggs, or bacon, or toast, but never all three at once. The meal

took on an air of menace, and I'll forever remember it as the food that fuelled that hateful day.

Even thinking about it now, all these years later, it makes me nauseous. It really does.

After breakfast we all went outside, as usual. Booted out by Aunt Clara so that she could dowhatever it is that grownups do when kids aren't about. She probably just sat there and knitted,

the old fool, thinking that her precious little Adam would be alright.

Let's go into the woods. Mike said.The field was a boring place to play anyway, and nobody wanted to go against Mike's

wishes. We took the long route into the forest, down the well-trodden path that generations of

people had taken before us. The trees cast us in a cool shadow, a much welcome reprieve from

the heat of autumn. I remember the way the ferns looked, shaking lazily with the slightestbreeze. I envied them, the way they were free to just be, without anyone telling them what to do.

Without any guilt. I would have happily traded in my life for the life of one of those big leafy

ferns, free to drink in the straggling thin beams of sunlight, free to just sit there.

We started playing swordfighters, using broken branches and twigs. Mike would alwaysswing his sword too hard, and it didn't take long before Adam's arms were all scratched up. But

Adam was indomitable. Unbreakable. He'd laugh, not realizing that the game was over and that

Mike was serious. Every laugh drove Mike closer and closer to the brink of madness. Mike wore

his anger openly on his face, and I saw the danger early on.You have to understand, it was fear that kept me from doing something. I could have told

Mike to ease off him, but I feared I'd get the same treatment. I wasn't so big back then and had

never gotten into a fight before. I was afraid.

Adam kept laughing, dancing side to side, swishing his sword back and forth. I had steppedback from it, content to just watch. All those scratches on Adam's arms scared me. Finally, Mike

had enough. Raising his branch high above him, he brought it crashing down on Adam's sandy

blonde head.Adam cried, for the first time in days. The last blow actually hurt, and he finally caught on

that Mike was actually fighting, not just playing. He cried and cried, a loud wail that I was surewould carry all the way to the farmhouse. Good, I thought. Let Aunt Clara hear and come put a

stop to this hateful child.

Shut up! Mike screamed at him.

Adam cried even harder and Mike screamed again. I said, shut up!


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Nothing could silence Adam's cries, and Mike was nearing the breaking point. If you don't

shut up right now, I'm going to knock that stupid look right off your face!

Adam continued, and true to his word, Mike leaped on top of him, and started sluggingaway. Adam didn't even struggle, just lay there, bawling his head off. And I just stood there and

watched. I'd never even seen a real fight before except on TV, and the brutality of it shocked me

into inaction.Mike finally got tired and got off him, panting heavily. Adam's face was a mess. His nose

broken and dripping blood like a leaky faucet, eyes already starting to swell shut. Mike had gone

too far and he knew it. Adam crawled to his feet and cried out in that sweet, thick voice of his.

I'm telling mama on you!

Mike looked genuinely frightened for a moment. Don't you dare.

I'm gonna tell mama on you, and you're gonna get in trouble.If you do, I'll beat you even harder, I swear I will.

At that, Adam turned to run. Mike faced me. Help me catch him, will you! His face was

contorted in a mask of hate, and I was too frightened to resist. We both chased after him and

caught up quickly. Adam wasn't a very good runner, and after that beating he took there was no

chance of escape.Mike caught him first, tackling him to the ground. He straddled himself across Adam's chest

and started pounding him in the face. You still want to tell on me, retard? Another punch.

Huh?Adam cried out. I'm gonna tell on you!

I prayed that Adam would just keep his mouth shut, but he was too dim to see the danger.

Eventually Mike got off of him.

We're taking him to the creek. Grab his legs.I grabbed his legs and he kicked weakly, staring at me with those wide frightened eyes. It

didn't even feel like I was doing it. It was more like watching something in a movie. I felt like I

was floating five feet in the air, watching the events take place from above.

We reached the creek soon and I dreaded seeing just how far Mike was going to take it. Helet loose his grip on Adam's torso, but I still held the legs and he fell hard on the ground, head

first. He was still crying a feeble whimper, and I just wanted him to stop. I felt this anger

towards him for crying, and at that moment, I hated him. Just shut up!

Mike reached down and grabbed a tuft of his hair, and dragged his struggling body to thewater. I helped and watched with a fascinated horror as Mike pushed his head under the water. I

ust held Adam's body still, as he made his pathetic attempt at dragging himself out. I wondered

ust how far he would go. I didn't have to wonder long, because Adam's struggles soon grew

weaker, and eventually stopped. I was too frightened and disgusted to move.Adam was dead. That was the first thought that ran through my head. Adam was dead and I

helped kill him. I stood up, staggered to the middle of the creek, feet splashing in the cool water,

doubled over, and threw up. I've never vomited so hard in my life. It just kept coming, and Ithought for sure that my eyes were going to bug out of my head.

After a short eternity it stopped, and I turned to see Mike standing over Adam's body, juststaring at him.

He's dead.

I nodded weakly.

He's dead, and it was an accident, see? We were playing in the creek, and he slipped and hit


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his head and drowned. That's all. Not our fault. We tried to save him but it was too late. He

turned to face me. Right?

I nodded again, and quickly realized the flaw in his plan. What about his face?What abouthis face?

It's all beaten up. They'll know something's wrong.

A dark look passed over Mike's face. He was silent for a second, and then he erupted withrage. Shit! He paced back and forth, kicking the rocks in the waterbed up, so that theysplashed violently into the creek. What are we going to do? Wait, I know. Shit, I know.

He bent over Adam's body, and started giving him mouth to mouth. I don't know where he

learned it, probably from the TV, but it worked. Even after all that time, it worked. Adam

coughed up water and gasped. Mike stood up and faced me again. You stay here with him, and

convince him notto talk! You understand?I nodded stupidly. I didn't know what else to do. Mike turned and ran, going to get help. I

knelt down, stared into his mutilated face, and cried. The gravity of the situation, the sheer,

mindless, senselessness of it all, finally caught up with me. I couldn't take it. I just wanted to die.

I've never known such guilt, such... hatred, for myself, for Mike, and for poor Adam, who let it

all happen.I had to atone for what I did. I knew I had to. Convince Adam not to talk? Ha. I would tell

him to spill the beans, I would fess up for my part in it. I was convinced I'd go to jail but I didn't

care. I didn't know at the time that they don't send children to real jail, but it doesn't matter. Thefear was still there.

Adam?

He looked up at me, staring through his swollen eyelids with those sweet baby blue eyes,

and smiled faintly. What happened?You don't remember? I almost laughed, from the absurdity of it. Oh God, you really don't

remember?

He shook his head. Tom, my face hurts.

I cried again and held his head delicately in my lap. I bent over him and let the tears flow. Ididn't care.

Why are you crying?

I didn't know what to say. Should I tell the truth and risk the consequences, or let Adam

remain in ignorance? I felt this cold, stabbing pain in my gut, as if the decision was trying toclaw its way through my belly. The guilt, oh, the guilt. I can't put it into words. I can barely even

go on. The shame is still unbearable to this day.

Because in the end, I decided to save my own ass and went along with Mike's lie. Soon, Aunt

Clara came running up with Mike in the lead. Tears streamed down her face at the sight of herpoor baby boy.

See? We saved him. Mike's lie cut right through me and I felt a second wave of nausea

come and go. It was some black kid, he was out here, and he beat Adam up. We saved him, buthe almost drowned.Right, Adam?

Adam looked at Mike, and nodded. I guess so. I don't remember too good. Thanks forsaving me, Mike. He turned to look at me. And you too, Tom.

I threw up again. Couldn't help it. All the praise from Aunt Clara, for ourbrave rescue. It

was too much to take. We helped carry him back and Aunt Clara drove us to the hospital, where

Adam was finally taken care of properly.


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Permanent brain damage, they said. They told us not to worry, though, because we probably

wouldn't even notice it since he was slow already. And we were made into heroes.

Some men from the paper came later on, to take pictures of us. The police later arrestedsome black child, pinned the beating on him. The boy confessed. I'll never know why.

To this day, I still can't shake the guilt. Over fifteen years have passed, and I still can't shake

it.I saw Adam recently. He smiled to see me. It made me cry. I had to convince him that my

tears were tears of happiness. He believed me. I knew he would.

Telling this story, it didn't have the effect I hoped it would. Cathartic, and all that nonsense.

Nope. No relief. No release from the guilt that haunts my dreams, that wakes me up in the

middle of the night soaked in a cold sweat.

I'll never live a normal life. I know that. I mean, I work, holding down a steady job. But I'llnever marry. How could anyone love someone so despicable? I'll forever be a killer. Even

though we brought him back, we still killed him. How could I ever live with that?

No, I'll never live a normal life. I could, I know that. Mike does. I passed by him in the

supermarket recently, him and his wife and his little girl. He didn't recognize me and I'm glad he

didn't.No, I'll never live a normal life. I won't let myself. Adam will never live a normal life, so I

don't deserve to either. Maybe Adam never would have led a normal life, but it doesn't matter.

It's the only way I can atone for what I've done. Maybe the guilt will finally go away. MaybeAdam could forgive me, for the crime he doesn't know I committed. Maybe not. Because I'll

never forgive myself.

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Adam - Printable Edition