Chapter 40: History

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"I don't think that's a good idea Adam," I wavered my seven year old voice as authoritative as possible.

He turned towards me to gleam a mischievous persona. I gulped as his toes tumbled over the hill with tempt, my hands numbed from the height below.

"I can do it," he assured me with confidence, his eyes narrowed in study at the water below.

A second passed before he jumped into the blue, my eyes greedily running over to peak at the overwhelming splash. The bright crystals of sun sparkled across the vast body, my eyes fragile to the power of light. 

I recall gripping the hill's crevice when a head didn't arrive back.

"Adam!" I shouted. And then proceeding until my throat pumped with useless adrenaline. 

My hopeless voice called for mama while I memorized the slow smoothening waves. 

I wanted to help, but I couldn't

So I waited until he blew out, almost to the point of frightening me away from the silence. 

He breathed heavily before peering up. 

"See!" He yelled while rubbing the water away from his eyes.

I remember gaping at him with awe.

He was so brave.

--

"Hi."

"Hey," I voice carefully with eyes squinted.

He bites into his lip as soon as he sees the cast, caramel suns wide eyed. In instinct, I force my arm behind me. He proceeds to hang his head and stare at his shoes.

I carve my eyes into the buzzing of flies worshiping the street light by my door. The static roars in battle with our mutual quiet. 

But not so far into the future, he exhales harshly before facing me with a soft yet cold expression.

"Don't associate yourself with him in any way, it will complicate things ," he states, voice distant. A sneer of infinite disgust.

I am quickly taken aback and resort to absorb the black of sky revolving around us.

"I will do the talking, you just act like an innocent victim," he smears through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, almost desperately begging me.

I nod, chewing in his proposal. He is rolling his hands heatedly, the uneasiness in his body language is a profound element of alien. 

"Okay," I manage after clearing my throat, efficient enough to erase the blowing discomfort he is personifying. It's so rawfully kind that he even suggested this. But as it shows, he seems obliged to.

"Good," he exhales, his hair flooding over his eyes. He appears as though he wants to say more, more of something he just can't.  The relief vacates all around him in an instant, his body unraveling from the forced tense. He combs his hair back with his hand before walking down the stairs without another word.

I watch his back and listen to the heavy steps, eyes trembling my next move.

"None of this is your fault," I gulp quickly. He stops completely but fails to turn.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, your conflict with him isn't interdependent on my place in it."

I ramble on before I realize he is facing me. His eyes wallow at the sides in awe; mouth parted but no speech. I am abandoned as his shoulders relax at his sides. Disbelieve, he almost doesn't comprehend the extent of my words. The guilt swifts by to take its own, face miles away from where I'm standing.

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