I'm four years old and we just moved back to Baton Rouge from Seattle. New apartment complex is right next door to the school where I will be
attending kindergarten next year. In fact there are a bunch of kids in this complex, and most of them are older than me. Like five, six, seven, and
one (practically a grown up) eight years old.
One of the older kids shows me around. "We don't play here." Takes me to the field between the school and the apartments. There is a huge drainage
canal dividing the school from the Apartments. "We play red-rover out here. Chase. Ummm Whip it, and Hide And Seek!
I imagine all the kids, and can't wait to join in. "Well that's all. Bye bye." And he runs back to the apartments with legs longer than mine. I
get through the breezeway to the courtyard and no one is there. Two stories of apartments looking onto the courtyard, and no one.
I go back out to look at the huge drainage canal. It's dry, lined with grass, and looks like a fun place to play soldier and throw pinecones. I look
around the field. Nobody. I go back to the courtyard.
There is another kid I have never seen before. He's just standing, looking around, and shaking one of his hands in the air like a nervous habit. I
walk up to him with a big smile "Hello! I'm Mike." He just looks at me. I figure he is about seven years old, maybe even almost a grown up at eight.
"Let me show you around!"
I lead him around. "This is the breezeway." "This is the field where we play." "Over there is school where I will be going to kindergarten next
year." "Over here is the canal." "I don't think we can play in there." I frown and look at him. He has a blank expression, just looking down into
We walk back to the courtyard. After we exit the breeze way into the courtyard, I realize I didn't run from him, and if I run from him now, he will
know where I live. "Ok, well it was nice to meet you." He just looks at me. I say to him, "I'm going now. Bye bye." I wave and smile.
I realize he is following me. "I said I'm going now." He just looks at me. I turn and take a step. He is still following me. I turn back. "Stop
following me." I walk.
He is still following me, and I'm getting close to my door now. "I ... said ... stop following me." He just looks at me with that blank face. "I
mean it." I take another step and look over my shoulder. He is right behind me.
I don't really remember much. I mean I was four. But I do remember what it feels like when the berserk takes over. When my self control returned, I
am being pulled off the kid by numerous real parents. The kid is on the ground and I am still beating his head into the pavement with both my hands
around his neck.
For the rest of our time there no kid in that complex ever plays with me. I spend a lot of time in our apartment making up my own games.
About four years later...
I find out he is autistic,
and understands very little.
I spent the rest of my life learning not to kill.
edit on 25-10-2015 by mikegrouchy because: (no reason given)
edit on 26-10-2015 by mikegrouchy because: grammar