Asphalt

Down a Brick Well

"So I saw your portrait in my book, with your number." he said it as if he had no sleep the day before.

'Well obviously, we are walking... and you keep insiting you know where your going, but you look so lost." I said this as a thought creeped in to the back of my mind, and i couldn't help but think of why we needed to go into the forest this far. At this point of the story he could murder me and no one would hear, see, or find me (or my body).

"Ok, this is it... are you ready to hear my story." He practicly said it in a whisper, like someone could possibly be watching.Thats when he began his story...

"I was... I am an abused child, I live with a deadbeat dad who is always drunk. He has always been this way... ever since my mom died. She was always so caring and kind, she would never lay a hand on me, she never even grounded me. But as I was saying, This well right here..." He said this as he pointed at the mud covered well right beside me

"This is the well my father put me down, and I don't know how I lived because that thing is full of water, dirty, nasty, germy, water. A man must have been walking by after my dad had left, because he called 911. I had gotten out of the well and was immedietly asked how I had gotten down the well. As i started my bullcrap story on how I lost my footing on a twig, they interuppted, they told me that they had been keeping an eye on me and they know im getting abused, as in I'm being watched by the cops." He said every word with truth in his eyes.

"Wow...umm.. I-I- had no idea that- that your dad could be so cruel, I'm so sor-"

"No, don't be sorry its not your fault its not my mom's fault she died of cancer, its not my dad's fault that he is hurt so bad by her death he has no one else to take it out on." and of course when he said this I started it cry, because I could imagine a little boy in a well.Thats when I asked how old he was when it happened.He laughed and said,

"Its was just last week."