Something changed in Mom. She seemed distant - which came as a relief because the beatings abruptly stopped for a while every now and then. Don't get me wrong, some days I still caught a few punches and had some heavy shit thrown at me, but things were generally quieter around the house. I still haven't figured out if she just stopped caring around that time in my life or if she just didn't have the energy after work. Whatever the case, I was just glad I didn't have to deal with it as much.

It was nearing the end of the school year and I had finally started doing better in class. I mean, I started actually going to all of my classes instead of just some, and my grades went up. I went from failing to just barely passing. I would move on to the next grade. I guess not having to worry about getting the shit beat out of me every day gave me more time to focus on school instead of coping with the trauma and walking the streets at night. Oh, yeah. I think I forgot to tell you about that part. I guess we should get into it.

A bad habit I had developed was walking around the neighborhoods I lived in each night. I would get up and sneak out, sometimes climbing off the top porch in order to do so without waking my mom up. I would press my feet against the walls just above the baseboards in order to shimmy down the hall without causing the floor to creak, keeping my balance by pushing my palms into the walls. Once I got to the end of the hall, the creaking was too far away to wake her, so I was home free at that point. If she fell asleep at the dining room table, I’d go in her room and climb off the back porch. If she fell asleep in the living room, I’d go out the basement door. I had multiple routes to use. I always came back via the basement door though. It always gave me a good excuse for being up. I could say I remembered I had to do the laundry or I was looking for school supplies. Anyway.

My therapists think this is a coping mechanism for dealing with my PTSD. Having been through so much starting at such an early age, I would get trapped in my own thoughts and look for a way out. Often times I’d resort to dangerous activities because something about them were familiar. It’s like how soldiers come home from war but they’re still at war in their heads. Well, I was at war on the streets, so that’s where I kept returning because I had access to them. The hood had become life for me, even if it was dangerous to be out in it at night. Strangely enough, I rarely got into bad situations when I did this - and, man, have I witnessed some things. But if I walked along quietly and didn’t get involved, I didn’t have much to worry about. If no one addressed me, I didn’t even look. I always watched my back though. It would be stupid not to at least glance behind me.

I’d go out and walk for hours. I wouldn’t speak my thoughts, didn’t have a cell phone, didn’t stop at the payphone, and knew better than to approach familiar faces at those hours. See, people have vices. That’s no business of a kid’s. It didn’t matter who I saw out there overnight, I didn’t see them, know what I mean? It makes people nervous and irrational. They knew mom beat me but they’d tell on me if they knew I knew about their dirty laundry. Yeah, I saw familiar faces out there all the time, but I just pretended I didn’t notice and kept on walking. As long as I did that, they wouldn’t notice me. And when I had finally walked away from most of the nighttime activities, it was just quiet. I zoned out when it got quiet. That’s how I was able to walk so long. I didn’t even notice the time.

I know what you’re thinking:

Duh, Adam! That’s how you got to the structure in the forest! Mystery solved…

Nope. That’s not it at all. Actually, that’s pretty far off. Hell, that’s not even how I got back home. Just bear with me and I’ll get to that.

That nighttime walking thing? I never stopped doing that as a kid. In fact, I continued to do it through my mid-20’s. It took a lot of work and a lot of love to get me to stay home when I was at home, if you will. Other people worked hard to get me out of my head and keep me attached to the real world. It wasn’t easy. I dealt with some of the most intense, lucid nightmares. I worked while exhausted all the time because I wouldn’t be able to sleep afterward. Yeah, it was really hard. I’m glad I came far enough along to be able to tell you this story about my life. Stay with me.

It’s near the end of the school year and I slid into home like a true pimp. I had been chased around the bases by girls and grown women my entire freshman year. I don’t know why. I was some poor, short street urchin who sagged his pants and wore faded clothes. My shoes weren’t usually name brand and the bottom seams of my pants were frayed. I definitely didn’t get what made me so appealing to those young ladies. I had a temper, got into fights, carried weapons, came to school high a lot, drank, smoked, talked a lot of shit, and stayed in trouble. These girls didn’t even like bad boys like me. They liked troublemakers, not actual bad boys. See, I was an actual bad boy. I was something to be feared, not admired. I didn’t turn them on with stupid, high risk shenanigans, I made them fear for their lives because my antics could get us killed. I boosted cars and I was in a gang, for crying out loud. I didn’t even hide it.

They said I was cute but I didn’t see it. I was proud of my wavy-straight hair though. I had 360 degree waves and kept my hairline sharp. Well, I could see why they would like that one. Girls do tend to like nice hair. But I wasn’t very nice. I pushed people away when I noticed them. I usually didn’t even notice my peers until they irritated me. I was short enough to be invisible, got used to being invisible, and walked through the school as if I was the only one there most times - if I even bothered to show up. However, at the end of the school year, I had turned much of it around. Now, there was a girl I had the biggest crush on. I mean, I had it bad for her. Whenever she smiled at me my pants would get tight. She chased me all year but I just wouldn’t fuck with her. She was like an angel to me, and I was afraid that she’d lose her wings if an asshole like me even touched her. I didn’t want to ruin her, so I let her chase me. I treated her like shit because I had feelings for her but didn’t want to let her get near me. I had issues, okay? I buried my feelings and just tried to do without.

Continuing…

She finally got close to me. My peers badgered me about getting out of my own head and taking chances. She often talked me up, despite my outright refusal to let her see me flustered, and I really wanted to experience all of the wonderful things she was talking about. It was even better that she was bigger than me back then. More to love. Everything about her seemed big to me except her waistline and her feet. She was banging. I figured I didn’t have anything else to lose so close to summer vacation, so I gave her a shot.

We started dating in April. We frequently met in the halls to flirt and play. We also frequently got caught with her craning her neck over me, hair hanging down to my shoulder, my arms around her waist - straight up tongue wrestling. No, it was really like that. I was only 5’1. Yeah, 5’1 at the end of the school year. I was 15 and only 5-fucking-1. She, on the other hand, was 5’5. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?

Where did I leave off?

This girl was in my head. We spoke on the phone after school every day. We didn’t have a lot of time to talk, so one of us would call the other as soon as we got home from school. We’d talk for about half an hour and then see each other in school the next day. Now, this relationship obviously didn’t last and, to be honest, we were doomed from the start. See, someone else had gotten close to her in the time she was chasing me. Apparently she wasn’t so preoccupied with her conquest of me that she didn’t have time for anyone else. Unbeknownst to me, this was my first open relationship. I wasn’t open to it back then.

This girl played me in the most crucial fashion. She wore one face when she dealt with me but she was someone else behind my back. I didn’t take it well at all. In fact, I was dealing with some trauma from the beginning of the school year and wasn’t giving up the dick yet. Well, she clearly didn’t like that and didn’t feel the need to just discuss that with me. Had she communicated that to me, maybe we could have worked something out. I started hearing rumors and I eventually started confronting her about it. She’d lie and bat those long eyelashes at me, I’d calm down, we’d kiss, and all would be right with the world again. She even started moving my hands to her ass after our little fights. I’ll admit I enjoyed that at the time. But I had no idea she was just pacifying me.

I kept hearing rumors and disregarding them. Then it happened. She stopped taking my calls. Every time I would call her during the summer, she was conveniently never home. Come to find out she was off sleeping with some older guy. How did I know this? I would go with my friends every morning to train for basketball. We went to the eastside to run hills, jump rope, etc. Guess who I spotted walking with some dude who looked like a college student by July. Yup. Her. Guess what else I saw that made it painfully obvious to me she had been sleeping with the guy - or at least with someone. I saw her fucking baby bump. The girl was dating me while already pregnant. Ho...ly SHIT! I was irate!

She called me after a month and a half of not even bothering to formally break up with me. I answered the phone and pretended I was someone else. My voice had significantly deepend by then. My guess was because of the testosterone increase because I didn’t grow much over the summer. I began sophomore year at only 5’2. Anyway, my voice was of a more manly tone, so I was able to fool her. She called from a different number and I answered without realizing it was her. I recognized her voice right away. She asked to speak to me, I told her I wasn’t home and asked if she’d like to leave a message, she left a message without realizing it was me, we went about our business. She still didn’t tell me what was going on in her life. She just told me she missed me and wondered why I hadn’t called in so long. Well, I had called a lot. It was just that she was out playing with another dude’s joy -- I’m over it.

Me: I’ll let him know [click].

I hung up without saying goodbye and she didn’t call back. I never called her again. I went to play basketball. She went to live with her aunt, who transferred her to a different school. Unable to handle the situation properly, I got into another fight that day. I wasn’t proud of my behavior then and I’m still not. I kicked that poor kid’s ass so bad. He didn’t deserve that. I was angry and I lashed out. I bullied him.

I woke up out in the woods again that night.

Me: [exasperated] Damn! Here we go again, I guess...