Permanent Scars

I Don't Know

October 24, Friday. 11:35 p.m.

Sitting on a stool, playing with instruments, and watching Adam: my new pastime. Every day after school this week, he's taken me along to work. I stay until his shift ends, regardless Dad's instilled "curfew", and sometimes we get food on his meal break. When his shift ends, I don't let him come all the way to my house—we always part ways at the hollow leading to his place.

   I know I shouldn't stay out so late, but I can't be alone all the time anymore, not after that last incident with the Vandals. It's just too much. Besides, I have plenty time to finish my homework while Adam is working. Tom doesn't seem to care that I have been hanging out. Rather, I think he enjoys having me around. Adam certainly revels in my presence.

   Since I called him Sunday night, I know Adam has been suspicious of me. He's been watching me closely at school, listens intently when I speak. It's obvious he knows I'm holding things back, and I know he's waiting to catch me in a lie. I have not lied to him as far as I know, and I do want him to be aware of what I'm dealing with, but the trouble is I don't know how to tell him. To make things more challenging, I haven't been able to keep my mind on track.

   Adam finishes the last of his tasks and hoists his backpack, nodding to me. Tom went home awhile ago, trusting Adam to lock everything up properly. Leaping off the amp stack that I probably should not have been sitting on, I snatch my coat and wriggle into it as Adam pulls the door open. Wind is howling outside and it's dark; the few streetlights that work seem to have lost power connection, for they have not turned on.

He turns to glance over his shoulder, and the two of us share a look of deep unease. Without much forethought, I shrink back from the darkness. I don't want to go out there. It's cold and windy and pitch black—not even a familiar neon glow to offset it.

Did the power go out?

No, the store lights are still running.

Yeah, but there's a generator.

So? That doesn't mean anything.

What are you thinking?

I don't know. I don't know.

"I don't know," the words come out of my mouth—as desperate-sounding as they do in my head, and I clap my hands over my lips. Adam turns around quizzically.

"What?"

I just shake my head at him, shutting my eyes, trembling. Geez, what is wrong with me lately?

"You can stop shaking your head now."

I can't, Adam. I can't. I can't focus. I...

"Hey!" He grabs me roughly by the shoulders, snapping me out of that creepy trance or whatever it was, and I look up at him. His deep, expressive eyes search my wide, frightened ones. "What's the matter with you lately?"

I'm tempted to shake my head, but the thought of getting stuck like that again prevents me. So instead, I shrug tentatively. He bites at his lip rings, clearly lost in thought. Somewhere outside, one of the neon signs flickers to life. It's not much light, but at least it's something. Adam reaches out, finds my left hand under that oversized coat sleeve, and takes it gently. Then, turning out the lights, he leads me out into the dark, dripping town. When he locks the store, I know there's no going back. He has keys, sure. But that doesn't mean a thing.

   "Don't squeeze so hard," he whispers, jiggling my hand to loosen it. I glance at him, wide-eyed, and he shakes his head. He's silent for a long moment before saying decidedly, "I know it's late but I'm taking you to my house."

   I open my mouth to question him but the words never come. Setting his jaw firmly, he hustles me along in the dark—gently, of course, but with haste. Before long I'm inside his house and he's talking to his mother and his family is staring at me and I can't hear anything over the dull, low tones ringing in my ears, and my eyes feel like they're crossing but they're not, and blackness is creeping up on my vision. Everything blurs out and I fall over on my face and that's about all I can register.