I was a child abductor

Some kids are just too smart for their own good. Take my little brother Clem, for example. He was the type of kid that made other parents second guess their decisions to procreate. By three, Clem could read and write. By four, he was solving rubix cubes. By five, he was asking for the quadratic formula for his birthday. And by six, he was nearly institutionalized. See, Clem was convinced that we weren’t his ‘real family.’ So, in the interest of science, he decided to run a few tests. First, he switched my and his mother’s salt and sugar containers. Then, he waited. The results were almost immediate. Before the day was over, our mother had 1. nearly burned the house down with her sugar-coated chicken, 2. ruined our new kitchen by trying to make a cake in the goddamn dishwasher, and 3. tried to feed the god-knows-how-much-salt contaminated kibble to our poor, sweet cat. That’s when my Clem’s psychosis was officially diagnosed. I was about twelve at the time, and still had no idea what the hell was going on. Our parents took Clem to a shrink. Clem peed on the shrink’s floor. The shrink suggested a strict regimen of Ritalin, and a strict ban on PBS. Clem hated the shrink, and he hated the medication, and he was overjoyed when he was banned from watching television. ‘Why the hell would I watch TV??’ He asked me, as if I had suggested some perversion, or devilish occult ritual. ‘I have a microscope.’ I was probably too young to grasp the full extent of Clem’s condition, but even I could tell that his behavior was getting more erratic. He would stare at me for hours on end, speaking in a soft voice that sounded like gibberish. He would stand in the shower, shaking his head like a dog, for a full hour ever morning. He would insist on folding all of his clothes precisely at 3:03 A.M. I’ll admit it now, but I used to enjoy his antics. It was like living with a living breathing cartoon character. And even if he did insist on doing backflips on our furniture, and eating nothing but ketchup for entire weeks at a time, he was still my little brother, and it was my duty to protect him. When Clem was eight, I was fourteen, and our parents were at their wit’s end. They shipped us off to our aunt and uncle’s house on the Lake Saginaw, for a week. ‘Maybe some fresh air will do you boys some good.’ Mother said, with about as much enthusiasm as an icefishing competition. I was upset about leaving my friends behind, and was starting to feel a little uneased by Clem’s antics, but I still felt an odd sense of loyalty to the little weirdo. I didn’t want to betray Clem. Besides, I didn’t want him to think I was betraying Clem. But I had no idea just how bad things would get at our aunts house. My cousins were there, too. About a half dozen of them, in various states of adolescence. They were divided into two groups, the morning kids, and the afternoon kids. The morning kids were the older cousins. Hanna, who was two years older than me. Her twin brothers, Aiden and Seth. They were my age. And baby Maggie, who was nine, and in that awkward phase where she was too old to play with the younger kids, and too young to play with us. The afternoon kids were the younger cousins. There was Anne and Amy, the twins. Ben, who still had diarrhea, and was forbidden from using the good bathroom, and little Leo, who was about the same age as my brother Clem. Leo was...well, he was a mystery, even to the adults. He had an eating disorder, a speech disorder, and an unholy obsession with watermelons. That was about all anyone knew about him. On the first day of our visit, we decided to go fishing. Hanna and Aiden and Seth and Maggie and I sat on the pier, with our lines running long out into the lake. Clem was in the shallow water, staring into it with the intensity of a man possessed. Anne and Amy and Ben and Leo were playing in the house, under the watchful eyes of our two aunts. They were all enjoying the quiet, and the peace, when suddenly Clem rushed up the stairs to the house, and started screaming at the top of his lungs. ‘Get me a net!’ Clem screamed, tugging on the bathing suit of my cousin Maggie. ‘Get me a goddamn net, you fucking bitch!’ The afternoon kids started to cry, and the adults rushed out, to see what the commotion was. ‘What the hell is wrong with your brother?’ Aunt Sue asked me, as she swept Clem up in her arms, to carry him back down to the water. ‘I have no idea.’ I replied. ‘I want a fishing net.’ Clem struggled, kicking his legs wildly, and almost soiled himself in the process. ‘I need a net, for science!’ ‘Godamnit, Clement.’ Clem’s eyes darted towards mother. She knew he hated his full name. ‘What did we discuss about your behavior?’ ‘I need a goddamn net to measure the lake’s fucking fish population, you fucking bitch!’ Clem said, rasping the last two words, and making a scene that no one would ever forget. Mother clutched her mouth in horror. Clem was never a potty mouth, and everyone knew it. In the end, Clem got his net. But, by the time we caught a fish, the sun had already risen high in the sky. Clem peered into the mesh, his eyes shining like lanterns in the dark. ‘Did you know’, Clem said, ‘that the fish population of Lake Saginaw is 89.97% lower than it was in the late 80’s, when industrial waste was banned from the watershed?’ He asked, not looking up from the few sad fish that had wandered into his net. ‘Where the hell did you get your data Clem?’ My uncle asked him, obviously amused. ‘I have my ways, and my means.’ Clem said, dropping the net into the water. It was an extremely dramatic scene, but no one knew that yet. As the day went on, Clem was more reserved. He spent most of the time in the shallow water, examining bugs and reeds and sticks with his little magnifying glass. The afternoon kids were back in the house, asleep, and the morning kids were helping the adults fix dinner in the kitchen. It was about 6:00 when Clem wandered up to the house. ‘Where are my cousins?’ He asked me. ‘Fell asleep, I guess.’ I replied. ‘I want to go and see them.’ Clem said, matter-of-factly. ‘I don’t know man. They’re really sensitive, and they aren’t exactly...you know.’ ‘I don’t give a fuck if they’re sensitive.’ Clem said, with an intensity that made my gut feel funny. ‘I have to go and see them.’ He said, his voice rising with every word. ‘I have to see them, and watch them...and maybe even study them.’

I was a child abductor

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