Peer Pressure

It’s stuck in my mind, trapped and buried in the deepest regions, only to resurface when my mind wonders. I’ll be on the brink of sleep, drifting off when the haunting memories return to me. It was to become a man they told me, but it simply made me less of a human.

Decades ago, the summer heat rained down on our small town in Texas. The only safety for the younglings was the shade of trees as our parents forced us outside til the dinner bell rang. School was out, and there was almost nothing to do. Worse of all, my parents refused to take me to the local pool, citing health concerns.

Alas, there was a saving grace. Within the roughly 50-acre plot of forest at the end of the culdesac resided a sprawling stream system. Most of it was muddy or sandy with shallow water, but a specific section sported a large rocky cliff and up to neck-high depths.

I remember the first time I saw him. Rumors and gossip were all I had known at the time. Tales that his eyes stared blankly, the way he acted like a toddler, and his limping gait. I’ll admit that most were lies, but the first was most definitely true.

At a gas station, I eyed a candy bar to my right. I almost went to ask my mother for it before I felt a sensation of being watched. Turning to face the people ahead of us in the line, I caught his gaze. His brown eyes stared into mine, still and unmoving.

It was a quick encounter, his mother finalizing the purchase and leaving with him. He stared as he walked out the door, continuing til he was placed into the beaten red truck. Even though it was a short encounter, I already felt the weird feelings the others described.

Laying in my bed, I couldn’t help but to think about his stare. It was almost as if there wasn’t a mind behind those eyes, simply the shell of a person. The next day, I sat in the living room playing with my action figures. Suddenly a knock rang out from the front door, and I quickly made my way to open it.

Jake and Ethan stood in front of me. They were barely older, but at that age, it made all the difference. I considered myself the luckiest boy in the world to be able to play with older kids, even if the age gap was only a year.

“We’re gonna go to the hole, wanna come?” Jake said enthusiastically. He was the leader of our little trio, his ideas of what to do clashing with the boredom of summer.

Enthusiastically I agreed. And quickly after that, I slid on my already tied shoes, following them as we began down the street. Just a minute after leaving the house, I already wished that I didn’t. The heat was severe, made worse by the almost zero humidity. I couldn’t wait to submerge myself into the refreshing waters of the creek.

Suddenly a bang erupted from the yard to my right, and my head instantly shifted in that direction. The boy was out there, a stick in his hand striking one of the large pines on their property.

Upon noticing me, his arms went limp, his eyes trailing me. Thinking back now, it was obvious that he wasn’t smart. He probably had some type of learning disability, autism, or something. I’m not a doctor, but he simply wasn’t like the rest of us, and that was why he was outcasted by the kids of the neighborhood.

That didn’t matter though, the boy never left his yard. After we came back, our boxers drenched, I saw him attempt to follow me. A shout came from the open window, and the boy stopped, turning and beginning to make his way to the front door. I never saw his father, though, I wouldn’t blame him if he packed his bags and left.

The day it happened was humid. Jake and Ethan had invited me to go play at the hole, and I gratefully accepted. As we made our way to the tree line, I noticed the boy hiding behind his tree, a large stick in his hand. Paying no attention, we continued forward, pushing through the thick undergrowth. As we walked, I began to hear what sounded like a set of footsteps behind us. Though every time I turned my head, I would see nothing.

“Do you guys hear something?” I questioned, the others stopping to examine me.

“Are you really scared of the woods?” Ethan asked, a smile on his face.

“What?! No!” I rebuttled as they laughed. Both of them began to walk forward, and after a final glance behind, I followed.

Suddenly he appeared in front of us, his stance wide as he held the stick like a baseball bat. I let out a scream as he jumped out, settling down after I realized it was just simply him.

“What does this idiot want?” Jake questioned, watching as the boy began to approach.

Suddenly and without warning, he began to charge toward us. Jake backed up a little bit, as no matter the age or size of someone, a boy wielding a stick is terrifying, especially when you don’t have one yourself. Turning tail, we began to flee, hopping over logs and stones as the boy gave chase.

After a minute of running, Jake skidded to a stop. We were atop the peak of the cliff, around a twenty-foot drop. Rumors of a child jumping off into the water and surviving was prevalent at the time, but none attempted to recreate it.

He approached from behind as we turned in unison. Taking the role of our protector, Jake stepped in front, ready for a fight. The boy slowly stepped forward, his pace steady with intent, and his eyes locked onto Jake. His jaw was limp and open, an obvious stain where drool sept out.

It was quick. It was just so quick. The boy rushed forward, swinging and hitting Jake in the side. He was weak though, and Jake was strong. Grabbing hold of his shirt, he spun him around, sending him flying off the cliff. I heard three impacts, the last one being a splash of water.

Peering over the edge, I stared at his limp body at the bottom of the cliff. The water around him was tinted red, his landing pad being a thin layer of water with sharp rocks under the surface. Glancing at each other wearily, we left, abandoning the crime scene.

When his mother realized her little boy was nowhere to be seen, she called the police. The search efforts were halted by a ravenous storm. His body was carried five miles down the stream, eventually catching onto a fallen tree. By the time a hiker found him, he was barely recognizable.

Animals had feasted– NO! After all these years, I can’t even tell the truth. No no no. I need to say it, I need to SAY IT! After he fell, we made our way down, approaching his mangled body. He was gasping for air whilst crying. His jaw was crooked, blood seeping out of a wound on his forehead.

He must’ve broken his back because he didn’t move much. His eyes, oh god his eyes. They stared into mine, wide and terrified. They… They made me do it. It wasn’t my choice it was… It wasn’t me! I wish I could go back, I wish I could fix things. They made me do it, THEY MADE ME DO IT…

They made me pick up a rock.