Trigger Warning: child death
This is the fourteenth part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, and Part XIII before continuing.
After leaving the West home, I decided sleeping in my usual spot under the bridge might not be the best idea. All I needed was for a cop to come harass me when Michael wasn’t there to bear witness or pester them with details about human biology.
So I grabbed my blanket, picked a direction, and walked several blocks. I had no idea where the boundary lines were between Riverview and its neighbors. I hadn’t even known the name of the town I was in before hearing Michael rattle it off.
I walked until I came across a park with plenty of trees and bushes along one fence. It looked like the perfect place to hide out from the cops for a night, so I headed to the spot that looked like it had the most cover.
Unfortunately, it was already occupied. I made my apologies and kept moving until I found another spot, this one unoccupied.
Once I cleared a spot of sticks, pebbles, and anything else that might poke me, I spread out my blanket and settled down.
It was actually kind of nice, certainly nicer than sleeping under the bridge. The ground was softer, the trees provided a welcome canopy, and it smelled much better than my spot under the bridge.
I might just have to make this my new spot.
Despite the cozy location, I did not get a good night’s sleep.
The cop haunted my dreams.
At first, I dreamed I was back under the bridge and the cop was rolling up, yelling at me for loitering and handcuffing me.
I fought the handcuffs, thrashing until I woke myself up and remembered where I was. I was no longer under the bridge. I was in the park. I was hidden. I was safe.
So I went back to sleep.
But my dreams adjusted and suddenly the cop was coming at me through the shrubbery, saying all kinds of nasty things about me.
I just wanted to sleep.
I got so angry at this cop for refusing to leave me alone, not realizing it was my own brain that wouldn’t let up. I could hardly blame it. After all the run-ins I’d had with law enforcement over the years, not to mention the stories that made the news, my brain was just trying to warn me of the danger.
But I was too tired and angry to process any of that. I just knew I wanted to sleep, and this cop wouldn’t let me, and I had had enough.
So I fought back, swinging my arms as wide as I could and roaring at the cop to leave me alone.
It wasn’t until later I realized I was swinging at tree branches.
In my sleep-deprived state, it wasn’t the tree branches, but the cop that was hitting me. So I kept fighting, and I kept roaring.
I don’t know how long I kept that up. I had so much rage that had built up over years and years of constantly being told to move along, move along or else, that it all came spilling out.
It’s amazing a cop didn’t arrest me in my ravings, especially after I left the cover of the bushes and started wandering the streets.
I didn’t realize I had left the park until I woke up the next morning in my usual spot under the bridge.
I hardly dared believe it was real, though, especially after a night of nightmares.
And something seemed off.
Something smelled like … blood.
I sat up, looked around me, and that’s when I saw him.
Michael was sprawled next to me, covered in blood. He was on his back and his eyes were open, but saw nothing. He was dead.
To be continued…