They say that hindsight is supposed to be twenty-twenty. Kurt, however, knows these to be merely comfort words, meant to sooth and calm the masses. It is in all actuality fairly often that we find things more muddled when looking into the past, he found. Something that seemed so clear and sure going in becomes blurry and confused. Warped and twisted as time passes. You could spend weeks, months, even years pouring over the events that led up to one singular moment, and still it would get no clearer.
That particular day was a balmy spring morning, sunny with light cloud cover. Nice, but not surprisingly so for early May. The street was loud, over run with children escaping from the last dredges of winter. Laughter, bright and pure, intermingled with the first of the grinding lawn mowers, their owners cursing. A dog, well on its way out of puppy hood, merrily chased the small girl that lived two houses down. Kurt smiled at the pair, so carefree, though they didn't seem to notice. He continued down the street, coat pulled tightly around him. He noticed the mother of the little girl staring at him through her window as he passed by. He was sure that, had she been less afraid for herself, she would have been outside ushering her daughter in until he was gone. The other occupants of the street no doubt felt the same way. As it was, he got almost to the end of the street before being stopped.
"What are you doing here?" an old man, well past his prime, directed at Kurt. Marveling at the audacity of the man, Kurt turned to face him.
"Me?" he asked, staring at the man, slightly stunned.
"Yes you. You need to leave." The man practically growled, rage coloring his tone.
"Eddie, leave him alone. He's only a child." The man's wife pleaded. Kurt startled, forgetting himself for a moment that he was, indeed, a child. So used to life as he knew it, the idea of childhood and birthdays had left him long ago. He had what many would call an old soul, reflected in his eyes and the way he carried himself. He had lived the life of someone much closer to the age of the man confronting him than to the age of his body. Life had been hard on him, showing no mercy or protection. In his seven years of life he had seen more than most people see in a life time and he had the scars to prove it, both physical and emotional.
"I was just taking a walk!" Kurt insisted, pulling his shoulders back and glaring. The man, now identified as Eddie, was not cowed, however, and glared right back.
"You're a menace! Go back home, or better yet, leave us be!" Eddie grumbled, advancing steadily on the boy. The man's wife shrieked, torn between being terrified for her husband and the little boy.
"I do not recall being informed that being of a higher intelligence than most makes me a menace" Kurt bit back, cringing as the man comes closer to him. He is sure, to some extent, he could hold his own against this man, but would rather that not be necessary. A seven year old boy taking out a fully grown man in front of witnesses would not be easy to cover up.
"Oh do not give me that crock of bull!" by this point Eddie was approximately fifty feet away from Kurt and closing in. "You think we do not know what goes on up there in that creepy house o' yours? You and your whole family are dangerous for this neighborhood!" he was bluffing, of course, No one, not even the highest government agencies, had any idea what was going on in their house. Not, of course, that they hadn't tried. Both government and neighbor alike had attempted to snoop and had come up with nothing. There was, and never would be, any proof. That didn't mean that Kurt wanted to get caught up in any of this, of course.
"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. If simply being in my presence so enrages you, I will remove myself. I find no need to associate with heathens who take their family problems out on a little boy they do not even know." Kurt sneered, lip curled. Eddie was stopped at his gate, one hand resting on the latch, the other clutched in his wife's as she attempted to pull him back. Flinging one last haughty look at the couple for good measure, Kurt turned on his heel and strode back to where he came from.
The neighborhood was getting restless. As Kurt passed, everyone stopped and stared, seemingly brave in the face of Eddie's confrontation. That was not good news for Kurt, nor for his family. The braver the people on their little street got, the more likely these type of confrontations became. No doubt it would soon be time to move once again, taking up residence in another small town such as this, sitting high on a hill about a quiet, suburban street. None of this, however, was much cause for concern. After all, his family had been through it time and again, cycling through towns faster than they could keep track of. Eventually, people began getting suspicious of the strangers who never bothered integrating into society and they moved on. Time bleed together, interspersed with moments of panic and despair. But none of those little towns touched them and they were gone from recollection within weeks. Kurt tried once more to smile at the little girl and her dog as he walked by their house, but this time her mother was bolder, shuffling them into the house.
Ascending the many stairs to their house, Kurt, small child that he was, attempted to recall the various towns and houses he had lived in. It didn't take him long to realize that, despite his vast intelligence, he could hardly recall the two residences previous, let alone any that may have, and in fact did, come before that. This revelation was somewhat startling and disturbing. What was the point? Is this how his life was to continue? Would life simply continue to blur together messily, one day into another, houses, towns, neighbors always different and yet the same? Surely something would eventually change the cycle. One day there would be someone to become attached to, a companion, a friend. Eventually, there would be a place he would settle into, a place he was comfortable calling home. As he reached the top of the steps, Kurt decided that there would come a time that he would stop running, stop hiding. Of that he was sure.
Five minutes later, he wished it had been his choice.