` The stealthy shadows crept closer,
They clutched at the hem of Jill's gown;
And there at the very top she stumbled,
And Jack came shuddering down.
--"Walter De La Mare Tells His Listeners about Jack and Jill" by Louis Untermeyer--
Alone he had faced pale eyes, the hue of his own filled with contempt. She never had to speak for her hatred to be known; it permeated the house like the smell of honeysuckles in the summer. That smell had come to mean pain for him. The aviary had been filled with honeysuckles.
The metallic odor of blood mixed with the sweetness of the flowers was enough, causing him to pale and shudder at just a mere recall.
Jonathan curled atop his bed as memories plagued him, haunted his sleeping hour.
That had been his grandmother. Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs came next, the two that stood out amongst his child tormentors. He remembered what happened to them. It had been an accident, a tale he had never told anyone.
He remembered the orange, hot flames and he bolted up in bed, sweating profusely, heart thundering. He could still see the glow of the fire engulfing the car, a startling contrasting against the southern darkness of his hometown.
He had despised them. Sherry had betrayed him for Bo, played him like a fiddle. He had only wanted to scare them, to take just an ounce of revenge when he had dressed up and spooked them on prom night. He knew they would flee, but he had never meant for Bo to drive into a head-on collision. He hadn't meant to kill her, he hadn't meant it. No one deserved that, he…
He had only wanted to frighten them; it had been innocent, childhood payback. He had never meant for it to end like it had.
You were never alone…I was there. You were a child, Jonathan, it was an accident…
Those words, however, never quite relieved the guilt no matter how often they were spoken.