life turns us into killers

[cass]

h e n r y .

"Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright"

Age VI.

"You’ve got to stop doing that, Henry,” his dad gripped his wrists, pulling his arms away from the cat that he had been playing with.

One of its legs was crooked, bent in the wrong direction, the orange thing had stopped moving after the third time he’d hit it with the rock he’d found by the pond. The hold on his wrist was iron tight, sending spikes of pain up until he let out a loud yelp. His father didn’t let go, pulling his six year old son along behind him and towards the barn. “Pa, you’re hurting me, let go,” he grumbled, vainly trying to yank his arm free.

His dad whirled on him, hands moving to his shoulders, pulling Henry until they were face to face. “You can’t do that, remember what I said? When you want to do things like that we come here, we hit the bag, we throw a few kicks, punches, we don’t…”

He looked over Henry’s shoulder, gaze narrowing on the deformed lump behind them. “Your mother- we won’t tell her about this one okay?” His gaze burned into Henry’s, the same brown eyes, whirling with worry, pinned to his until he let out a small nod. The tension seemed to ease from his tired shoulders, and he let go, standing up with a heavy sigh.

”Okay, come on, let’s practice your punches,” he waved Henry ahead of him, watching as his son walked into the barn and over to the punching bag he had made out of hay and cows hide. It was getting worse, he decided, he gnawed on a fingernail, the uncertainty of the situation was making his hair grey. Martha and Simon had spent many a night arguing over what to do, both believing that they had failed their son in some way for him to turn out like this. He was hurting them, killing them, it started with bugs, then animals and next was-

”Pa, what you waiting for?”

Simon shook his head, looking over to Henry who stood by the punching bag, hands covered in a messy attempt at applying his own wraps. No, he wouldn’t let himself believe that his son couldn’t be capable of something like that. He’d fix him, help him go down the right path, protect him from whatever demon told him that it was okay to hurt animals. Henry reached upwards, showing his father his hand work with a proud smile.

“I almost had it right this time.” With a smile his father inspected the handiwork, nodding in approval, “I reckon next time you’ll have it perfect.”

It took only a few minutes for Simon to fix up the mess Henry had made, he straightened up, moving to grab the bag on both sides. “We’ll start with a few straight punches and throw in a hook at the end for a warm up.”

Henry moved to the bag, raising his fists upwards, a small frown creasing his forehead as he concentrated on his foot positioning. He nodded appreciatively, approving of his stance, and Henry couldn’t help but beam, just a simple moment of pure joy that had him dropping his hands as his smile stretched from ear to ear. This was his son, this was the child he had raised, he could fix this.

”Let’s start.”

[cass]

h e n r y .

"Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming"

Age IX.

"Please don’t leave me, Ma.”

“I have to, my darling, it’s not my choice, I'm sick.”

“But I need you, you said you’d make it, you said-”

“Henry-”

“Yes.”

“Can you make me a promise?”

“What do you need Ma?”

“Fight harder than I could, don’t let your demons destroy-”

“But, Ma-”

“Promise me, you have to stop hurting people, it’s killing your father.”

“I-I can’t control it.”

“Try harder then. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

[cass]

h e n r y .

"You're sick of feeling numb
You're not the only one
I'll take you by the hand"

Age XII.

"Hey Henry, do you wanna hang with us?”

He looked up to see the two kids that lived next door standing over him. The book he had been reading snapped shut with a light thud and he tucked it into his bag as he stood up. The two of them had never asked him to join in the games they played, he often saw them playing in the mud, or riding their bikes down the big slope in front of their house. Last week he’d seen them playing with the dogs. It looked like fun, he thought.

”What are we gonna do?” He asked, standing up to face them. He wasn’t the type of kid that normally interacted with others, it wasn’t by choice. Well, not his choice, the other kids just didn’t talk to him for some reason. The old hag that lived next door said it was because she’d caught him skinning her rabbit.

”There’s a cool creek back behind the house in the woods there,” they took off at a run, and Henry chased after them, the exhilaration of throwing his body down the hill at full speed had his breath catching in his throat. He laughed, and the other two boys dashed forwards, leading the way into the woods that lined their property. They came to an abrupt stop as they reached the forest line, slowing down to a walk as they weaved their way around the trees.

Henry had been in this part of the forest only a handful of times, and a lot of what he saw in front of him was unfamiliar. They soon reached a small clearing in the woods, and the two boys turned, Henry looked around, “there ain’t no creek here.”

Josh sniggered, stepping forward, jabbing a finger into Henry’s chest, “so you ain’t as dumb as you look.”

The other one -Adam snorted, stepping closer to Henry before giving him a big shove in the shoulder. “You’re a freak, you kill Miss Agnes cat, Doug said you even killed your own dog.” He stepped forwards again, “freak,” he hissed shoving Henry. He stumbled backwards, foot slipping on rock, and before he knew it he was on the ground.

”We don’t want no murderous freaks here,” Josh sent a kick right into Henry’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs, sending him sprawling into the dirt. He prowled closer, sending another kick into his side as Henry gasped for air, struggling to breath. He felt a rib crack, the searing agony as it spilled into his veins, he cried out.

His cry was cut short as Adam whacked him across the face with a stick. “We’re putting you outta your misery, freak, just die.” Another hit, Henry tried vainly to twist onto his stomach, blood filled his mouth, the iron filled tang made him choke.

”Die.”

Blood bubbled past his lips, and he coughed, choking out a cry for help that was hit out of him with another blow to his chest. His hands scrambled on the ground as he tried to push himself up, to get away, to free himself. They curled around a rock, and with a pain-filled howl he twisted, throwing it at the nearest of the two.

It hit him in the head.

Adam fell, and Henry used Josh’s moment of shock to lunge, ignoring the way his chest screamed at him, and the way his breath caught in his throat and the pain, oh everything hurt. His fingers gripped the rock as he jumped on top of Adam and he swung it above his head, bringing it down, down over and over again.

When it was done he fell off the boy, and he was alone. Josh had disappeared.

Henry laughed, choked on it as it tore through his body like fire. It took moments for it to turn into a sob and he dragged his knees to his chest.

[cass]

h e n r y .

"Snow, brother I’ll bet it all gold.
Shudder with blood in my nose.
I had it, almost."

Age XIV.

He could lie and say that the war had killed his father, it hadn’t. In the end he had been too weak to overcome his own emotions, swallowed by his grief after he had heard that his son had murdered the next door neighbour's kid.

He had sunken into a depression that had wrapped itself like a noose around his neck. Every day that Henry had lived and breathed in that same house he had walked by and pulled it tighter, tighter, tighter.

Then suddenly his fathers gone, another face buried in the mass grave for the district. He hadn’t even bothered to bury him in the backyard. They had plenty of spare dirt.

After that it hadn’t taken much convincing for him to pack a bag and leave the house.

”I’m here to fight,” he slapped the piece of paper down on the desk, hefting his backpack up, as he looked at the soldier's face.

”Is that so,” the man eyed him, giving him a quick once over before looking down at the paper. “So you’ve got experience with fighting, close combat, knives and-”

-he looked up at Henry-

”-killing.”

”Yeah, done it before, can do it again, so you gonna let me in or what?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow, wondering if this was a waste of his time.

The man sighs, pulling a cigarette from his pocket he lights it before taking a long draw. The wrinkles that lined his face tightened as he frowned, a finger messaging his temple as he stared at the page for a moment longer.

”You know what, kid, put your shit down in tent C, you can report to Lieutenant Cook, he’ll be down by the pits.”

Henry nodded, throwing the man a mock salute, the soldier responded with a flick of his middle finger before calling on the next person.