Swim Away The Beginning

SWIM AWAY

The Beginning

By

Tom Edwards

Copyright © 2016 by Tom Edwards

Smashwords Edition

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Cover by Vila Design

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Author Biography

The Beginning

Chapter 1

Summer was coming to an end. Sam Willis, heading downstairs for breakfast with his new foster family, had very little optimism that it would be anything short of disaster. John, Robbie, breakfast is ready! Beth called for her two biological sons, totally ignoring Sam's presence in the house.

Is the moron coming? Walt asked as he sat at the table looking through the daily newspaper.

I really don't care whether he is coming or not. It's just more work on me to have to feed another mouth.

If he don't eat, how's he gonna do the chores around here? Walt added rather rudely to his wife Beth.

Maybe if you weren’t so lazy, you could do the chores around here. Then we wouldn't need him. Besides, it gives me the creeps just looking at his face. Why don't you send him back ? I don't want him around here anyway.

Walt gave his wife a disgusted look that silenced her as though he had slapped her silly. He could see the fear in her eyes, which he perversely relished . Sam, get your ass down here! Walt bellowed just as Sam entered the kitchen, having heard all the conversation, but not surprised by it. Sam had become accustomed to this type of treatment as he had been in and out of more foster homes than he cared to remember. None of which, brought him any fond memories.

John and Robbie came bouncing into the kitchen, brushing Sam to the side as they claimed their spots, leaving him the old stool as there were only four chairs.

Want some eggs? John laughed as he offered the empty egg platter to Sam. Walt's perturbed stare fastened on Beth who retrieved a bowl of sticky oatmeal and spooned two large globs onto Sam's plate.

Robbie made a face at the oatmeal and slid his plate back out of his mother's mush slinging reach. Not wanting to take part in yesterday's leftover oatmeal.

The smell of the bacon and eggs awakened Sam's taste buds as he looked down at the oatmeal trying to imagine something better.

Eat up boy, you got a lot of work to do today. I want all those vines cut off the side of the house. Cut the grass and sweep off the porch and sidewalk.

Sam's eyes were fixed on the mounds of oatmeal as Walt's orders registered in his mind.

You don't mind working for your food, now do you? Huh boy?

No response from Sam as he contemplated the oatmeal.

Answer me when I talk to you! Walt boomed.

Yes sir. were the first and only words uttered by Sam at breakfast.

John and Robbie jumped up from the table and headed outside with a football. Walt took his morning exercise, which consisted of walking from the kitchen to his recliner and doing curls with the remote control. Later in the day, he would get more exercise by curling a half case of beer.

Beth snatched Sam's plate off the table while his fork was in mid-air. He had managed to eat one pile of the sticky goo.

Go on and get out of my kitchen. she ordered, not wanting to look at him anymore. She would never understand why Walt wanted him around or maybe she could.

Lazy Bum. She said just loud enough that Walt couldn't hear. Little did she know that Walt had tagged onto a local charitable organization that helped provide for foster children. He was receiving a check every month to help poor Sam or to stock his refrigerator with his favorite beer at his discretion. Walt considered himself quite a businessman for setting up such a sweet deal. His conscious having no remorse over the misappropriated funds.

Hungry—so hungry that he could have eaten the other gob of oatmeal, Sam exited the kitchen and started upstairs to his bedroom.

It's no different here than it has been anywhere else. I'm cursed. Desperation threatening to engulf him as he entered his room and locked the door.

If only I could lock the whole world out. Then they would leave me alone. Sam thought as his mind searched endlessly for a way to relieve the pain in his heart.

There is a way. He thought of the knife that he had taken from the kitchen the day before.

Hearing John and Robbie, he walked to the window to see the boys passing the football around. Robbie noticed Sam watching and flipped him the bird. Sam just stood there with no reaction, watching, but his mind traveled somewhere else as it always had to do just to keep his sanity. The ball slammed into the wall beside the window, startling Sam—he jumped back with John and Robbie laughing and jeering at him—Sam backed away from the window.

Was there no solution to his unending torment?

The knife. Retrieving the knife from the closet, he stood in front of the mirror.

I could cut my face off. He touched the knife to the side of his face.

Slice my throat. He pulled the edge of the knife across his throat ever so gently.

The heart. Re-gripping the knife, he positioned the point over his heart wherein lies most of his pain.

Do it! The point of the knife pushed against his skin.

Harder! It broke through the skin. Sam sensed the end of his torment in the blood that was trickling down his abdomen.

With grimaced face, Push! The blade went deeper—more blood flowed and he saw his life in the blood. Then he released the pressure on the knife—his emotions were commanding his body to do something that it couldn't do. Sinking to his knees, he dropped the knife. Then curled up in a ball on the floor, sobbing. He couldn't end his life, though he didn't understand why at the moment. He would later realize that life was much too valuable to be taken.

Opening his eyes, Sam saw the knife lying on the floor—dried blood on the tip.

Why couldn't I do it? It would be over now. Sitting up—there was blood on the floor and his abdomen. He imagined his lifeless body laying there on the floor—handle of the knife protruding from his chest—pools of his blood screaming at him, Murderer! Murderer as it spread across the floor. His conscious slapping him around for attempting the suicide. Take the easy way out, you coward! Face your problems and do something about it.

Sam had learned an important lesson from his failed attempt. He wanted to live, to fit in, to be a part of something that could bring happiness to his torrid life.

Sixteen year old Sam lived in Atlanta with his foster parents; if you could call them that. He had never known his real parents or the love that a real father and mother could show for their children. In his mind, abandonment had come at birth along with a face that should have been rejected by the creator. He had lived in numerous foster homes, received only out of pity. No one really wanted him or cared about him.

Groggily, he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, when someone banged on the door.

What the hell are you doing in there, Mole Man. You get your ass out of there and get the grass cut. Walt paused to listen for any signs of fear. He loved to deal with the distribution of fear. Walt was the intimidator. Mostly of women and children, not having the guts to stand up to a real man. Five minutes Freak! If you're not cutting grass, you will wish you were dead. bellowed Walt, who had taken Sam in only to be his house slave. Sam—snapped back into reality by the booming orders—looked at himself in the mirror and rage ran through his body. He had been pushed, emotionally, to the max over the years and it was coming to a boil. At that moment, Sam vowed to find his place in life if it was the last thing he ever did.

Putting the knife away, he washed the blood off of his body and his clothes. He didn’t need anything else causing him trouble, being born with enough of that. Outside, Sam started cutting the grass as his new foster brothers sat on the porch and laughed at him. Sam had learned to put some of the cruelties in a place that he could set aside and ignore, but they were sometimes more than he could bear. The remarks from the two boys never entered his mind as he was busy searching for a solution to his problem. Bottoming out earlier that day on the doorsteps of death, which was not an option anymore; he was determined to find his place in life.

After finishing the grass, he went inside to see his new foster family eating dinner. They just looked up and laughed at him, not offering him a place at the table. He wasn’t going to beg or be subjected to the abuse that he knew would accompany dinner. Going up to his room, he locked the door. Later that night, after everyone was asleep, he would slip downstairs and get something to eat.

Tomorrow would be his first day at the new high school and he was dreading it. He had been in and out of so many schools that he knew what to expect and what he was expecting wasn’t pretty. He had to be prepared, both mentally and physically. He also tried to dress correctly, but his limited supply of clothes made that difficult. Physically, he was in good shape. In every home that he had lived in, he had carried the load of the chores on his shoulders while everyone else had played with their friends and did what they wanted to do. A boy without friends had a lot of time to himself and much of that time was spent exercising, thinking that his body, might in some way, take away the pain of his face.

He would do pushups, sit-ups and pull-ups if he could find something to pull up on. Handstands were his favorite thing to do. Being very agile, Sam would be good at any number of team sports, but that would lead to contact with more people. That would lead to being stared at, pointed at, laughed at and worst of all, being rejected. So most of his time, if he had an option, was spent in solitude.

Sam’s mental preparation consisted of exercises that helped him ignore some of the abuse that seemed to follow him like a black cloud. He painted in his mind, a picture of circumstances and then erased them over and over. He found that this helped tremendously with the situations that he faced anytime he was in the public eye. Adults were the easiest to ignore. Boys poking fun at him were hard to take and led to more than a few fights. The girl’s reactions really tore at his heart and mind. He liked girls, no doubt about it, but he could not make himself believe that they would ever like him back. This tormented him daily and happiness had eluded him for sixteen years.

By two that morning, Sam had been to the kitchen, raided the icebox, laid his clothes out for tomorrow and psyched himself up for the first day of school. As he lay down to sleep, his mind took him on a journey far from his troubled life. To paradise, his paradise, that he had created in his mind. Sam's paradise was a tropical island of great solitude and a beautiful girl with whom he lived a fantasy life of happiness.

Chapter 2

Sam’s eyes opened at six. He was no longer in his paradise, he realized, but in the real world. A world that had brought him sorrow his whole life. He told himself, as he dressed for school, that things would be different, although deep down inside, he doubted it.

It was a short walk to school and pleasant enough with no one seeming to notice him. When he arrived at school, he went straight to the office to get his class schedule and explained to the receptionist that he was new at school. She directed him to sit down and wait. Sam took the corner chair as he always did in a public place if it was available. Looking up, he caught the receptionist looking at him. She quickly turned away, knowing that he had seen her looking. Sam thought, at least she didn’t snicker.

The principal opened his door and motioned for Sam to come in. After a few uncomfortable minutes of answering questions about family, which he had none, and previous schools, which were many, Sam struggled for words. The principal sensed emotional turmoil and decided on Miss Crawford. She was his best teacher and could maybe help this boy. As Sam exited the office, he noticed the receptionist staring at him. Rather than look back, he chose the less painful option of ignoring her.

Sam could here the chatter of students as he walked into Miss Crawford’s room, but silence fell as he made his appearance. Trying to ignore the stares, he handed Miss Crawford his paperwork. The teacher’s eyes took Sam in and lingered with pity on his face until she realized what she was doing and glanced down at the papers. Good morning Sam, we’re very glad to have you join us.

Good morning, Sam spoke timidly as he stood in front of her desk with eyes fixed on the floor.

This poor boy, she thought as she told him to take a seat at the front of the room. Sam turned to see two boys in the back snickering at him and a whole room full of wide eyes. Dropping his head quickly, he found his seat.

Class, this is Sam Willis. I want you all to make him feel welcome, her stern eyes saying more than her words, knowing that they probably wouldn’t, but determined to get her point across.

Making it through the first day without any major calamities, Sam thought that it had gone well, quite a bit better than he had expected. Could it somehow be different at this school? Hope welled up inside him that it would and Miss Crawford seemed to be very nice. She was a very pretty lady, but something else attracted him to her, something in her eyes. I like her, he said to himself and broke a small smile. A smile was something that had rarely touched his lips and it made him feel good.

Arriving at his new home to the same bunch of uncaring idiots, his spirits were dampened a bit as they started in on him. Screw them, he thought and shut them out of his mind as he set into doing his chores. He wondered why they had to badger him so much, for he was doing all of their work. They should have liked him, but they didn’t. No one did except, maybe Miss Crawford.

When Sam finished his chores, he once again went upstairs to his room without eating. Although he was hungry, dread of the verbal abuse that would go along with dinner overwhelmed his hunger. He would eat later tonight. Homework would take his mind off food and he enjoyed using his brain. If only he had a place to go, a place to belong, he would keep trying. Actually, he had come a long way from almost taking his life yesterday to cracking a smile today. There would be no trouble going to sleep tonight. Sam was looking forward to tomorrow, for a change.

As the weeks went on, the new school turned out to be much better than he had expected. The usual pranks and jokes that had always plagued him hadn’t come. The side glances were always there, but he could handle those.

Miss Crawford realized that Sam had not had much of a chance at enjoying life. There was no confidence or self esteem as he was always trying to disguise or hide his face. She did find out that he was extremely intelligent, quickly picking up on everything that she tried to teach him. She would start working on his self esteem; try to pick him up emotionally. She had seen improvement, but had no idea how close to the edge he had been.

His face was not hideous to her because she felt some of his pain and had compassion for him. But it was a face that only a mother could love and apparently, he had no mother. She must get him involved in some activities where he could make some friends. These were good intentions from a caring teacher, but exactly the kind of things that had turned disastrous for Sam. He had built a wall like the Great Wall of China to protect his emotions. There was a small opening in it, but she had no idea of how quickly it could close.

What did she know about him? He was very shy, didn’t do anything to draw attention to himself, was smart and looked to be physically fit. She also noticed that he showed interest in anything they studied that involved bodies of water, especially anything dealing with tropical waters. Maybe he likes to swim. That’s it. I’ll invite him to the pool, she thought.

The next day, she asked Sam to stay after school, which had Sam wondering what he had done. No matter what it was, it would be better than going home to his foster family and Miss Crawford would be more pleasant to be around even if he were in trouble.

Sam, do you like to swim?

I don’t know.

You don’t know? Haven’t you ever been swimming before?

No, I don’t think so, he had never had the opportunity to swim anywhere except maybe in a bathtub. Miss Crawford felt a twinge of pain in her heart as she realized that the boy had never been swimming.

If you would like to come; I’m having a pool party at my house tomorrow. There will be some other students there and it would please me if you came by.

O.K., I’ll come, Sam said as the thought of swimming appealed to him, but not as strong as the urge to please Miss Crawford.

Good! Miss Crawford smiled, be at my house at five and I’ll see you there.

What have I done, he thought, as he left the classroom. He had put himself in a situation that he had trained himself not to do. Interaction with people when it wasn’t