but because it was ten minutes from his home. His mother stayed home to care for him and his brothers, so she would never be more than ten minutes away from him at any given time. It had been like that all his life, but now, more than ever, that proximity was crucial.
Exhausted and lost in thought, Aaron sat on one of the benches, trying to stop his heart from racing before he went back to the parking lot where his mother waited. The smell of freshly mown grass hung heavy in the air as the cool late summer morning turned into a warm late summer afternoon. He could hear a mower off in the distance, but mostly, the quiet chatter of students on the sidewalk near him was the only sound. With his bag held tightly in his arms, as if it were an anchor tethering him to reality, he stared unseeing after a long and sleepless night. The bench near where he sat was one of three in a semicircle around an abstract statue of metal concentric circles standing atop a square base. Small bushes sprinkled the open area, with little purple and blue flowers still in bloom. He should go back to the car before his mom started to worry, but he didn’t want to go yet. It was peaceful here, almost serene. Aaron never really went anywhere, and this beautiful oasis of freedom was much less oppressive than the bedroom he rarely left. A girl he did not know half waved at him, until he looked up fully and the sun brought his scars into relief. Her expression changed to the shock and horror he knew so well, almost like a welcoming friend, signaling a lucky escape from a would-be conversationalist.
The hand that touched his shoulder was so unexpected and scared him so badly, he shot off the end of the bench, stumbled on shock-numbed legs, and fell onto the ground. His bag landed near his feet and his books scattered from it along the sidewalk. A searing pain ripped through his side as he landed on the corner of the statue’s base and avoided screaming only by the sheer grace of God. Aaron curled in on himself, to the only protective position he could think of. Pulling his knees to his chest and covering his head with his hands, he didn’t even have the presence of mind to grab his cell phone from his pocket. At that point, the only goal was to keep himself safe.
The sound of the van door slamming was loud in his ears as he struggled against the guy who held him. His nostrils were assaulted by the stench of stale beer and sweat, as the arms remained clamped around him like a vise. Looking over, he saw Juliette struggling as hard as he was.
“Shhhhhh…. Calm down, kid, we’re just going for a little ride.”
Flashes of that night came back, strong and unbidden, as he cowered beside the concrete base of the statue. Its solid, unyielding presence was mildly reassuring, and Aaron pulled harder against it, trying to shield himself from the attack that he knew was coming. The burns, it would be the burns first.
“Don’t hurt me…. Please… d… don’t touch me,” he chanted over and over again to his knees, which were now almost directly in front of his face as he rocked on the ground. With his arms locked over his head, he was only vaguely aware that the figure standing over him was still looming. Then, a car door slammed in the distance, and he heard footsteps. Still, he didn’t dare move.
“Aaron… Aaron, I’m not going to touch you. Baby, can you hear me?” His mother’s voice filtered through the fog of fear and panic. Thank God. No one could hurt him with his mother protecting him. She’d even saved him that night. That horrible night she’d come through and she’d saved him.
“Mama?” Aaron’s voice was shaky and quiet as he allowed his arms to fall from his head and wrap around his knees. “Mama, I want to go home.” Her breathing hitched, and she sounded almost like she might cry. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d called her “mama”— probably not since he was a small boy.
“Okay, baby, we’re going
Exhausted and lost in thought, Aaron sat on one of the benches, trying to stop his heart from racing before he went back to the parking lot where his mother waited. The smell of freshly mown grass hung heavy in the air as the cool late summer morning turned into a warm late summer afternoon. He could hear a mower off in the distance, but mostly, the quiet chatter of students on the sidewalk near him was the only sound. With his bag held tightly in his arms, as if it were an anchor tethering him to reality, he stared unseeing after a long and sleepless night. The bench near where he sat was one of three in a semicircle around an abstract statue of metal concentric circles standing atop a square base. Small bushes sprinkled the open area, with little purple and blue flowers still in bloom. He should go back to the car before his mom started to worry, but he didn’t want to go yet. It was peaceful here, almost serene. Aaron never really went anywhere, and this beautiful oasis of freedom was much less oppressive than the bedroom he rarely left. A girl he did not know half waved at him, until he looked up fully and the sun brought his scars into relief. Her expression changed to the shock and horror he knew so well, almost like a welcoming friend, signaling a lucky escape from a would-be conversationalist.
The hand that touched his shoulder was so unexpected and scared him so badly, he shot off the end of the bench, stumbled on shock-numbed legs, and fell onto the ground. His bag landed near his feet and his books scattered from it along the sidewalk. A searing pain ripped through his side as he landed on the corner of the statue’s base and avoided screaming only by the sheer grace of God. Aaron curled in on himself, to the only protective position he could think of. Pulling his knees to his chest and covering his head with his hands, he didn’t even have the presence of mind to grab his cell phone from his pocket. At that point, the only goal was to keep himself safe.
The sound of the van door slamming was loud in his ears as he struggled against the guy who held him. His nostrils were assaulted by the stench of stale beer and sweat, as the arms remained clamped around him like a vise. Looking over, he saw Juliette struggling as hard as he was.
“Shhhhhh…. Calm down, kid, we’re just going for a little ride.”
Flashes of that night came back, strong and unbidden, as he cowered beside the concrete base of the statue. Its solid, unyielding presence was mildly reassuring, and Aaron pulled harder against it, trying to shield himself from the attack that he knew was coming. The burns, it would be the burns first.
“Don’t hurt me…. Please… d… don’t touch me,” he chanted over and over again to his knees, which were now almost directly in front of his face as he rocked on the ground. With his arms locked over his head, he was only vaguely aware that the figure standing over him was still looming. Then, a car door slammed in the distance, and he heard footsteps. Still, he didn’t dare move.
“Aaron… Aaron, I’m not going to touch you. Baby, can you hear me?” His mother’s voice filtered through the fog of fear and panic. Thank God. No one could hurt him with his mother protecting him. She’d even saved him that night. That horrible night she’d come through and she’d saved him.
“Mama?” Aaron’s voice was shaky and quiet as he allowed his arms to fall from his head and wrap around his knees. “Mama, I want to go home.” Her breathing hitched, and she sounded almost like she might cry. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d called her “mama”— probably not since he was a small boy.
“Okay, baby, we’re going
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