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“You can come back inside once you decide to start behaving like a real boy!” David shouts, before slamming the door in William’s face so hard that the frame rattles. William, as always, does not understand what he has done wrong. But he doesn’t argue. Arguing never accomplishes anything but a punishment. Although, he reckons a punishment is bound to happen regardless.
Bitterly, William stalks away from the front door and out into the garden. His grandparents live in the countryside, and although there’s practically endless land for him to explore, he never does. Instead, he always sits under the shade of a big oak tree on a grassy hill near the house. The hill is close enough that the house is still in full view, but far enough that David and Grace’s old eyes can’t see him, and he won’t get yelled at for being lazy and not playing properly. That’s another thing William does not understand—how is he supposed to play ‘properly?’ Isn’t playing just supposed to be fun? William has plenty of fun playing by himself, but always gets shouted at for it. He gets shouted at for everything. He hates it here. He hates his entire rotten family, just as much as they hate him. He wishes they would all die. Then he could do whatever he wanted.
William marches up to the hill and plops down onto the ground, finding a nice long stick to fidget with. He pokes at the dirt in front of him, and swishes the stick back and forth to watch the way the grass moves. Already, he’s so terribly bored. He wishes he had some paper and crayons, or a book to read. He scratches at a bug bite on his neck. He hopes they won’t make him sleep outside again.
Not too long a time passes before the front door to the house opens. William glances over hopefully. Grace stands in the doorway, pointing her finger, and then that old dog Rufus trots outside. The front door slams shut again, and William stabs his stick into the ground, frustrated. Of course she only wanted to let the dog out. Wanted to get rid of the other animal.
With a dramatic sigh, he flops onto his back, spreading his arms out over his head and watching the leaves above him sway and flutter in the breeze. If he unfocuses his eyes, all of the leaves fuse together into one giant green cloud. People are like leaves. They are all the same. He wishes to be back in school. He misses Mrs. Meecham. She always tells him how special and brilliant he is. She is the only one who understands. Why can’t his parents understand? Why can’t his grandparents understand? Why do they hate him so much?
He curses their names loudly. Of course, if he did this in front of them, he’d be in for a world of trouble. But out here, he can say whatever he wants. And he can always call them whatever he wants in his head. William’s mind is the safest place in the world. If he could live in his own thoughts, he would. He can’t wait to become an adult.
A good few metres behind his head, the grass rustles softly, pulling him from his bitter musings. William sluggishly rolls over onto his stomach, peering into the slightly taller grass not engulfed in the shade of the tree. He catches a glimpse of brown and darker brown markings through the blades of grass, and quickly pushes himself upright with his hands. Tentatively, he approaches the small section of moving grass, and discovers an adder making its way through the greenery. It’s moving rather slowly. William thought snakes were faster. How could this small, legless creature be such a threat? Despite the countless warnings about adders William has heard over the course of his life, he crouches down to get a closer look. It is a surprisingly pretty animal. The pattern of its scales look like dozens of diamonds stuck together. It reminds him of the little squiggly shapes on the inside of his father’s razors. He wants to reach out and touch it, but that would be stupid. Maybe if he had a special sort of stick, he could pick it up safely. Maybe he could set it loose in the house, and get it to bite Grace. Maybe it would even kill her. He grins at the idea. That would make her sorry.
William hears another sound behind him, and turns his head to see Rufus trotting up to him, tongue lolling out. “Go away,” William says. He glares daggers at the stupid dog, hoping it will just leave him alone. Rufus pauses for a second and stops panting, and then all of a sudden, lunges forward and snaps its jaws around the snake. William leaps to his feet in horror, watching as Rufus shakes his snake’s body around like a toy, before dropping it back on the ground, bloodied and ruined. Then it steps back, pricking its ears forward and sniffing at the corpse like it’s surprised by what it has just done. “Rufus!” William yells angrily, staring down at his snake in dismay. “You stupid mutt! You’ve killed it! You’ve killed my snake!” The dog cocks its head at him, and makes a small ‘woof’ noise. It sniffs at the dead animal on the ground one last time, then seemingly loses interest and simply walks away, the kill rendered totally pointless. Rufus had killed the snake for no bloody reason at all!
William grabs his hair in his hands, yanking it and letting out a short scream of frustration. “Good for nothing animal,” he hisses to himself, stomping his foot on the ground. “I wish it had bitten you!” He lets himself be cross for a few more moments, but quickly loses the energy, sinking in on himself and feeling utterly defeated. He forlornly stares down at the remains of his snake. It’s actually a miracle that the snake hadn’t managed to get Rufus, since the damn foolish dog grabbed it by the middle of its body. William nudges the reptile’s corpse with his foot, rolling it over to reveal a spot where the guts are literally spilling out.
Then, all of a sudden, William feels a lot more curious than upset.
He retrieves the stick he’d been playing with earlier and crouches down in front of the adder, using it to poke at the pink mush leaking from its side. He learned from school that sometimes, snakes can bite even after death. William does not think that will happen, but he makes sure to step on its head just to be safe. With a little bit of effort, he manages to hook the protruding organ around the end of the twig and pull some of it out like a string. It’s an utterly fascinating sight, and William wants to see more. He tries prying the wound open further, but quickly gets frustrated with his lack of progress and drops the stick, forcing his fingers inside and pulling. It’s a lot harder than he thought, but eventually he manages to split some of the skin open, revealing what William thinks must be its heart. He easily cracks a few bones that are in his way, and pulls it out to get a closer look. It’s a tiny thing. It must be bigger than all of the hearts of his family combined. With a gleeful smile, he crushes it between his fingers.
The blood is not warm, but William wishes it were.