Exhausted, Kurt decided to sit down in one of the less murky areas of the field. The thin, worn strap of his overalls slid off his sunburned shoulder, but he had more important things to take care of. Even the sweltering Oklahoma heat wasn't enough to prevent a shiver through his body; maybe it was due to the way the events had unfolded earlier.
"NO!" he screamed, trying to push the memories back into the dark crevices of his brain. When you're only ten years old, blocking it all out seems the only way to deal with traumatic events. Kurt pulled his rough knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and gave in. First a small tear fell from his face, and then a salty river of pain. Once his resolve had broken, that was it. He rocked and sobbed, wanting his mother so badly. But she was gone, and he knew it was all his fault.
Kurt stood and reached into his rear pocket and pulled out the handkerchief that had once been white-now it resembled a teddy bear that had been rubbed so many times that all one could see was the brownish/off-white cotton. Thinking a ten-year old's equivalent to 'fuck it', he used it anyway, even though there was so little left to it that it was really no good. He ran it down his cheeks, trying to take away any evidence of crying; wipe the saline hurt away. That somewhat accomplished, he said to himself 'what now?', and found himself having to choke down another sob.
"Should I go back?" he wondered aloud. "What if she's still alive?" But he knew he couldn't go back- if she was dead, it would be all his fault, and that was not something he was ready to face. No way. Kurt thought about it more- he should have stopped him; he should have found another way to handle everything that would have kept her safe. But he was a failure. A pure coward.
Kurt walked the rest of the way through the field... it was so tall it seemed mutated almost. He got to the woods, a little dizzy now. What is wrong with me? he began to panic again. The more he thought about it, the worse the dizziness got; soon, an anxiety attack setting in. The thought of the masked man creeping up the stairs, slinking like a hairless caterpillar.
"And what did you do Kurt?" he asked himself bitterly. "That's right. Nothing. You took off like the wimp you are. And now when your mommy is dead, laying in a million pieces, the coroner should make you put her back together."
He was way too worldly for a boy his age; knew more about what went on in a horrible society than he should have to. Kurt kept walking. Now he'd reached the end of the deep woods. Trying to push back his inner voice, he moved to sit on the edge of the cliff. The view was absolutely beautiful- evergreen trees like millions of jade triangles strewn throughout. The pond also looked magnificent. He had never been up this high before; he loved it, he felt so free. The irony of being in Oklahoma and seeing what would seem to be such a northern nature scene- it just added to the beauty. He stood and inhaled.
Suddenly a shove from behind made him lose his balance and just about topple over- almost over the edge. After falling forward a few feet, he managed to catch himself and look eye-to-eye with his assassin. "Nosy lil' boy, aren't ya?" he sneered at Kurt. The cigarette hanging from his mouth dropped ashes onto the soft peat moss.
He inhaled. "You remember me. boy?" he demanded. It was evident from his no- nonsense tone he wanted an answer. Even a ten- year old much less mature than Kurt would have picked up on that, along with the pistol on his belt.
"N-n-n-n-n-n no. s-sir, I d-d-d do- don't," Kurt stammered. "But I'm sue you didn't p-push me on pu- purpose, Just help me please- no one has to know about this!" A tear betrayed his fear, leaving a hot, wet trail down his cheek.
The man laughed at him, a disgusting laugh- the type that results from too many cigarettes over years. When he laughed, his lips curled back to show his grotesque teeth. They were so black, Kurt couldn't believe they were still there. Shouldn't those have fallen out long ago? he thought to himself? The man pulled out a bottle of whiskey and took a swig, puckering his lips and shuddering. Kurt's grip on the root and ledge above was growing weaker and weaker. He frantically searched for something else to hold onto. Nothing. The closest thing to him now were the jagged rocks below.
"Well fine, boy. Lemme tell you since you seem to be having a slight memory lapse. I have been searching for you all day since you left your mother's house. You see, I am not the intruder that you seem to think. Your mother invited me there. You hear me? FUCKING INVITED ME!" he screamed, spittle hanging on his lip. "That's right. Your whore of a mother had a secret lover. You're the only one who knows, so now you have to die. But then again, maybe if you beg me hard enough, I'll give in and let you live."
Kurt started to cry hysterically- not only was he losing his grip, his mother- the one person he had been able to trust- wasn't even worthy of his trust. "Please- please let me go! I won't tell anyone- I promise!" He knew he was begging; trying to get the evil man to give in, giving him what he wanted, but he was so goddamn scared. The man reached out his hand and Kurt grabbed it. As soon as Kurt had completely given in and let go, the man looked deep into his eyes. "Gotcha," he said, and let go of Kurt's hand, sending him tumbling onto the rocks below.