With the Devil's Help: a True Story of Poverty, Mental Illness, and Murder by Neal Wooten

Author:Neal Wooten
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2022-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

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As the days passed, we got to know a lot of the kids in the neighborhood. One day, the gang took me and my two older sisters to their clubhouse. It was through the woods in a small meadow. It was basically a wooden shed weathered gray by Father Time and smelled of burlap sacks. The flat roof served as a deck, and there was a ladder fixed onto one side. It was awesome.

Among the group was a set of brothers, five in total, by the name of Butler. Ronnie was the oldest at fifteen, and they were all wild as bucks. All of them had long blond hair that was almost white and ghost-blue eyes, and I never saw any of them wear a shirt.

“We’re going back to the house,” Julene said as she and Neenah walked away.

“Okay,” I said. I was enjoying being on the roof. It felt forbidden and powerful.

Soon, others left and only three of us remained standing there on top of the clubhouse: me, Ronnie, and a boy my age named Marty. We were the same age, but very different by personality. Every kid I ever met not from Sand Mountain seemed more worldly and knowledgeable than me but somehow weaker. I just figured it was a tradeoff.

“I have an idea,” Ronnie said. “Let’s play a game.”

I noticed Marty’s eyes lower.

“Neal, you can go first. Follow me. Marty, you wait up here, and no peeking.”

I followed Ronnie off the ladder and into the clubhouse. Sunlight squeezed through the cracks in the ceiling. I had a strange sensation but didn’t understand why. I just stood there staring at the older boy. Having my Mama’s facial features, I tend to look angry and my mouth droops when I’m concentrating, and I think that worried Ronnie.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone about our clubhouse, are you, like your dad?”

What an odd question. Was this part of the game? I hardly ever talked to Daddy about anything, but I didn’t answer.

Ronnie looked unsure. “You don’t know what we’re doing, do you?”

I shook my head.

“That’s okay. Just pull your pants down and make groaning noises.”

This game was getting stupider. But I pulled my pants down after he did and tried to mimic his sounds. We did this for five minutes before we pulled our pants back up.

“Okay, go back up and send Marty down. And remember, no peeking.”

I did and watched Marty climb down and enter. A moment later, I heard them making the same noises. This game made no sense at all. Never one to follow the rules, I quietly knelt down and peered through one of the cracks.

They both had their pants down, but Marty was lying facedown on the dirt floor and Ronnie was facedown on top of him. His naked buttocks were the only things moving, repeatedly and quickly going from a normal rounded appearance to both cheeks sinking into huge concavities. What the heck was I witnessing? I had no idea but decided this game was no fun, so I climbed down and went home.

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