I was a fresh widow thrust into responsibility after the death of my husband. His passing had left me only a box of his possessions and the custody of his son.
We moved into a new neighborhood after neither of us could bear to stay in our former home where the memories of my husband seemed to haunt our days. I wanted a new start, and with it came a new job, along with a new school for JJ, my stepson.
As my busy schedule meant JJ was alone, I bought him a pet dog to go with the stray cat he'd adopted from the garden.
One day, I came home from work early to pick something I'd forgotten, only to find JJ in his room; he was supposed to be at school. Before I entered, I heard JJ talking. He wasn't alone.
I picked up a bat I kept for precaution and sneaked into the room. To my surprise, there was nobody there except JJ.
He told me he'd come back home he'd missed him too much. JJ wouldn't tell me who "him" was, but was ecstatic just mentioning him. When I asked him to describe this man, JJ pointed toward the wall.
"He's there, you can talk to him, too," JJ jumped on the bed, "we can all play together."
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I stared at the wall. Could there be an intruder in the house? Raising a trembling hand, I felt the wall's surface; there was nothing there.
I scolded JJ for making up tales and cutting school, but he only had his new "friend" on his mind. I decided to let him be happy with his imagination; before I left, I heard him whisper "she's gone, let's jump on the bed together."
Over time, JJ became happier - he didn't have any more bouts of solitude; he never asked for anything; in fact, he hardly spoke to me anymore. All he did now, was sneak around the house as if I would catch him.
However, his "friend" obsession got out of hand, as I learned he hadn't informed me about a class trip, and instead spent his day in the garden.
"My friend was teaching me how to hunt - the way dad used to," he argued when I scolded him. "I'm going to be able to kill anything. You'll see."
I noted his hands were splattered with blood. Blood that wasn't his. I followed the trail over toward a bush, behind which lay several corpses of birds. They hadn't just been killed, they'd been savaged; the birds' wings had been ripped off, and their beaks had been shattered. I slowly turned to look at JJ.
"I'll be good enough to kill bigger things soon," he chirped...
Any mention of the "friend" was banned after the incident. I'd put my foot down and threatened to strike JJ if he put another toe out of line or skipped school.
Things went back to the way they were before JJ met his friend, and I had a depressed child in my hands once more. JJ would refuse to talk to me, shutting himself in his room.
I thought I'd let him deal with this on his own until he was ready to talk, but was called by the school a few weeks later. According to them, JJ was involving himself too much into the female students.
