Prologue
Age 5- Twenty Five Years Ago)
It’s a playful day with the sunshine out in all its glory. Parents haven’t fought all morning. It's surprising. I feel overjoyed that they’ve been smiling and laughing with each other. We’ve come to the neighborhood park for an outing. We play and play.
As the day goes on I’m joined by the neighborhood boys. I know the one with dark brown locks of loose curls, his gray green eyes always mesmerized me, as Oscar. Who lived next door to me.
We laugh, we run, we hide, around and around we went on for what felt like an eternity. Out of all the kids with us. Talking to each other about weird and creepy things. I enjoyed Oscar's company.
“Aren’t girls supposed to like, I don’t know, sparkly pink princess stuff? Unicorns and rainbows?” One kid asked.
“Yeah! My sister is in love with a horse with a rainbow on its butt!” Another commented much to most the boys' laughter and cringing bodies. “I think it’s name is— uh— rainbow farts maybe.” He paused tapping his head to force a thought.
I pull into myself with Oscar next to me, “Well I know those are the toys my mom and dad like to get me.” I spoke softly, shy of the attention. “But I much prefer moths, bats, and black cats.” Bringing my legs to my chest, “I think you mean, rainbow dash.”
“Oh yeah! That’s right!”
After a heartbeat of their eyes wide staring at me. Making me reconsider my word choice. They hoot and howl with giggles, teasing me by pertaining to me. Roughly pushing each other around. It made me feel uneasy, scared, and alone.
Questioning myself internally about what was wrong with liking the spooky stuff. My mind whispered how odd I was, that being why I didn’t fit in. Reason for my parents to look down at me with disgust and disbelief. I am alone.
A hand was placed on my shoulder, “hey don’t listen to them Willow.” Oscar smiled, kneeling down beside me.
I smile the tiniest bit. It was brought to everyone’s attention by another little boy huddled with us. Much to their mischievous amusement. They began to sing; *’Willow and Oscar, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’* Making smooching sounds as they kiss the air towards us. Heat burns across my cheeks.
Oscar stood, “alright guys that’s enough.” They just kept going uncontrollably, unbothered by the embarrassment it was giving. A glint of something shiny catching the sun beans breaking through the trees.
Perking my attention Oscar turned to me again with a large smile. The others started going on about something else, turning their backs to us. Oscar kneeled down in front of me with his hands behind his back now.
“Hey! Look what I found in my dads office!” Bringing out a knife from behind his back, “isn’t it cool!”
“Yea… it’s shining in the sunlight.” I answered in awe, bringing my knees down to sit on them. “Did he just let you take it?”
“Pfft— no,” Oscar answered.
Looking the knife over, the handle was painted in a lovely shade of green just like an, “actias iuna.” Speaking the last words out loud in a hushed tone.
Oscar smirked with boyish charm, “what’s that?”
“It’s most commonly called Luna Moth,” I clarified with uncontrollable enthusiasm, “actias iuna is its name, while also being called moon moth.” A large smile sprayed across my lips, “It’s a nearctic moth, a part of the…” Trailing off my words, I fall silent as I realize I was speaking too fast and about something weird again. I nervously murmured, “sorry.”
Chucking as he opened and closed the blade inside its handle. “You know, I enjoy when you talk about the little strange things you like.” He laughed, feeling myself get a bit bubbly in my chest.
Flipping and tossing, Oscar slashed and stabbed the air with the silver blade. What turned into a singular moment of happiness. Ruined by the boys we were yelling.
“Nerd!” One shouted.
“Gross bug loving know-it-all.” One cringed up with a mean laugh.
“Wow you really are a weirdo.” They all laughed— all but Oscar who looked angry. “Oscar likes the weird bug lover!!” They howl with mocking laughter. “Bug-girl! Bug-girl!” They chanted.
I ball myself up tight, “please, stop.” Pleading as my eyes stung and vision blurred.
Daring a glance to Oscar whose hair hid his eyes. His knuckles white as his grip on the handle trembled. Could he be embarrassed by me? *’Stupid girl.’* My mothers voice whispered in my head. Oscar just sat there. All while they just got louder and meaner.
I lower my head in disappointment. Accepting these words to be true. Clenching my eyes shut as tears fall down my cheeks. Everything simultaneously got louder and quieter, the world around me seemed to float away.
Rushing mere feet from me could be heard. Then a sharp cold sensation burned through my shoulder. Not feeling much else at this very moment, it was almost welcomed. When a warm wetness trickled down my front. I look to my shoulder. There— the knife with Oscar’s hand still around the handle— stuck out of me.
Lifting my eyes to the group of kids that now surround me with paled faces and shock. Some were leaning with most of their body on top of the boy who just moments before indulged me. Oscar took on a ghostly white, wide eyed, horror.
*’When did they all get so close? Why are they dogpile on Oscar? How did this blade pierce me? What just happened?’*
The screams began. Questions simmered beneath the surface. As a tsunami of pain hit me. In a panic the blade was pulled out in a hurry, to the gushing of my blood. Shrieks of fear from some of the other kids. It wasn’t Oscar though, he appeared to be frozen. Just staring at me— at my shoulder. another boy had done so.
As the others panic grew, screams alerting nearby parents. The boy who now held the blood soaked knife trembled with fear. Looking around til those brown eyes of his shrunk. He painfully grabbed my left wrist pulling it and me along. I screamed and it hurt so much.
He sliced my shoulder back to front. Screaming, “this is all your fault! Why did you have to be sitting so close to us!” Another slice, I screamed. “Just shut up!”
In a flash the kind kid took the boy down. Beating on him with punch after punch thrown. The parents all showed up. Police were called. I was loaded into the back of an ambulance with my mother. Earning a scowling for my drama.
Weeks gone by in a flash like a heavy fog of fights, rage, courts, loneliness— nothingness. Taken out of school. Kept away from the world, from the sunshine.
Months and months have gone in minutes. That boy was blamed of course. I was barring me from seeing him or anyone. I was locked away under the guise of fear.
Soon enough I was packed up and sent away. They couldn’t stand to risk another scene caused by me. The embarrassment I caused for being.
Years have passed by now, I’m alone, but I’m alive. I still find a way back to that moment with the boy. With his deep brown hair in loose curls. Gray green eyes that could look through you. In the park, surrounded by the other children I’ve long forgotten. With an actias iuna painted on the handle of a switchblade.
Looking out watching the sunset from my home. Reaching my right hand up to my shoulder. Feeling the scars that decorated my skin since. The raised bumps of pale skin that has grown into a self soothing ritual. Caught in the past of blurs and haze.
Chucking at the way my brain works I found myself saying the silly thought aloud, “Maybe— perhaps— I wonder if I ever get to see that boy again one day?” Biting my bottom lip at the mere imaginative thought. “That’ll be a story to tell.”
