Kim Scissorhands and Edward Boggs

Chapter Five: The Memory

ELEVEN YEARS PREVIOUSLY

"Ed, come on! We have to go to the mansion and back before it's time for dinner!"

The voice belonged to Peter, Edward's fourteen-year old brother. Peter had a face-full of freckles, a tall, gangly body, and a head of curly black locks. He was just as mischievous as Edward would soon find himself to be.

"I am, Pete! Wait for me!"

Edward's five-year-old legs slowed him down behind his track-star brother. Eventually, they came to a stop at the cul de sac.

The gloomy house was even more frightening back then; The windows were long and intimidating, the dark shrubbery was spiky and sharp, and the door wasn't even visible from the bottom. Back then, the gate to the mansion was never locked, probably because no one ever dared to go in there. Peter and Edward were about to change that.

Carefully, they slipped through the opening without any of the neighbors noticing. Their footsteps were quiet, even in broad daylight, to make sure no one heard the two troublemakers. Edward was absolutely terrified, but kept his mouth shut. He sensed the intensity of their situation. After about two minutes of walking, however, his patience ran out.

"Pete, I want to go home, Mommy be looking for us any second! I don't see why we have to go to this scary old place anyway. What if a police sees us?"

Peter responded, without taking his eyes off the pavement:

"We're not going back now, Ed. I just wanted to take a peek at this place and then we can leave."

"But why?" mumbled Edward, ducking underneath a low-lying branch. "What if me and you get in trouble?"

"You need to learn to take risks. That means to go after what you want, no matter what it takes. When you take risks, you get to find out all the things you never knew before. Remember when we were both wondering what the present for Dad was, so we looked inside the bag without permission? That's taking a risk. Breaking the rules is exciting, you get an answer to your question, plus people think you're cool when you do. Does that make sense?" Peter mumbled something under his breath, which sounded like the name Isabelle.

"I said, does that make sense?" Peter asked again. Edward refocused back to the conversation.

"I think so," said Edward. Those words would make a large impact on the rest of his life. From then on, Edward would always be the curious, trouble-making, seemingly-innocent boy with the jet black hair.

They reached the top of the hill within a few silent minutes. The view was unseeable due to overgrowth of trees and plants; Otherwise, it would have been one to remember. The small boy looked up at the creepy house, and could feel his legs melt into a puddle.
There they were, in front of the house.

Peter glared at Edward viciously. "Well? Are you just going to stare at it? Ring the doorbell!" His tone had become harsh all of the sudden, and Edward's vision started blurring from tears.

"No! I want to go home!"

"Now!"

Sobs erupted out of Edward as he was pushed towards the door by his older brother. He kept trying to escape, but was Pete so intent on bringing him closer. What had gotten into the boy?

"Stop! Let me go!"

Eventually, he felt Peter's hard grip loosen, and the small kid collapsed on the steps in tears. He was doubled over, bawling, for what felt like hours.

I hate Pete. I hate Pete. I hate Pete. I hate Pete. I hate Pete. Edward imagined the sculpting of each chalked letter as he wrote them repeatedly on the blackboard of his mind. I hate Pete. I hate him so much.