Adam Last October #2
It wasn’t that Adam hadn’t thought about social media since the accident; it was that he couldn’t bear to see the posts about Mariana. He’d been crying himself to sleep over her every night; he didn’t need to cry all day too.
“Just…” Bram growled under his breath. “People are idiots.”
Adam held out his hand. Whatever it was, he’d have to see it sooner or later. Thanks to Bram, that time would be now.
“It’s not going to help you get better,” Bram tried, but his gray eyes were resigned. “At least let me stay with you.”
Adam consented. “Show me.”
Bram did, bringing up the posts from their schoolmates debating whether Adam had actually killed Mariana or if the killer was her boyfriend, Bram.
A normally shy sophomore was suddenly very vocal about how he’d always suspected the brothers were hiding a dark side.
Adam found this especially hurtful, considering he’d saved that very kid from having his lunch stolen by Todd Ellison the previous year.
They’d turned on him. All of them. Every student, teammate—even some of his teachers who’d been singing Adam’s praises only days before—were now calling him and his brothers the most abhorrent of names.
“I want to be alone,” he told Bram in a clipped voice.
“No. Here, give me the—” Bram reached for the iPad, but Adam threw up his left shoulder, blocking his brother’s actions. Bram let out a grunt but didn’t force the issue. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”
But Adam wasn’t listening. He continued the robotic game of scroll, click, read. “Should I be worried about this?” he eventually asked, his tone void of emotion.
“There’s nothing to any of it,” Bram said. “Supposedly, investigators are looking at Mariana’s car. But if they found anything, they would’ve brought us in.” Bram shrugged. “Dad says if the detectives come talk to you again, tell them you need your lawyer present.”
Adam nodded, still sifting through the posts, most of which came from total strangers. He wondered how people he’d never met before could hold such passionate hatred toward him. Such immense love for Mariana—enough to make them wish death upon Adam.
For whatever reason, the more Adam read, the more he became numb. It was like burns. The way the lesser-degree burns caused agonizing pain while Adam’s full-thickness burns had penetrated so deeply into the layers of skin, he barely felt a thing as he was rushed to the hospital.
Adam relinquished the iPad, the hazy feeling lingering, either from reading too much or from the morphine.
One month later, Adam still hadn’t gone back online.
That illicit draw hadn’t niggled at him since the day with Bram in the hospital.
But after a few days back at home, still bedridden with none of his usual activities to fill the day—no visitors and not even a phone call from anyone Adam had believed was his friend—he picked up his iPad to watch a movie and saw a little red circular notification in the top-right corner of the Instagram icon.
The temptation to click on it arose again. Like the glow of a fishing lure beneath the dark surface of the creek. Adam ignored whatever sharp hooks might be awaiting and opened social media again.
He soon came to a blurred photo with the little eye covering it—a graphic image warning.
Without a thought, he clicked on the Are you sure you want to proceed?
question to override the content warning.
The image came into focus, and a sudden explosion of pain—visceral and real—came on.
The numbness he’d felt while scrolling through the hateful comments and posts back in the hospital was gone, leaving the layers of him peeled back and exposed.
Everything he never experienced in the hospital, Adam now felt in his room.
The image was Adam’s own unbandaged face, the same red and pink burn wounds he saw when he looked in the mirror a month earlier. The post contained two photos of his face and another of his torched hand. The caption read:
Sixteen-year-old homicide suspect Adam Abbott’s football days are over
It was a lie; Adam hadn’t been named a suspect, nor had Mariana’s death been ruled a homicide.
Intellectually, Adam knew he should turn the iPad off and surrender it to his brother.
Yet, Adam’s emotions—rage, grief, humiliation—stirred within his core.
He couldn’t help it; he began to scroll through the comments.
SKIMOM33: disgusting
brETTRAYMOND907: looks like the kid got what he deserved
LESTERTHEJESTER: isn’t that the newest Marvel villain?
WHATKATYISWEARING: ??????
Rage started to boil in Adam’s chest. His teeth clenched so ferociously that he started to feel lightheaded.
These photos were taken in the hospital.
The only way they could’ve made it on here was if they were leaked by a member of the medical staff.
Could one of the interns have risked their own future to do this?
Adam doubted it. He was willing to bet anything it was Dr. Russo, that smug, unfeeling bastard.
With the release of these photos, Adam wasn’t simply being labeled a murderer anymore.
Now, he was a monster.
Adam almost closed the iPad when another comment caught his eye.
KENRICHARDSTHEBOXER: he can play football in prison
SAMILEETHEPOET: @kenrichardstheboxer no he can’t. I read somewhere his hand doesn’t work anymore
PENNYGREENE23: @samileethepoet why wasn’t this kid taken to a hospital with a dedicated burn unit? People are idiots
JAMESVANDERBEER: yeah, seems like something could’ve been done to keep him playing football. Why treat a major burn in Hicksville Creek? Any thoughts, @hendricksmd?
Suddenly, Adam’s chest became tight. His vision started to go fuzzy.
SAMILEETHEPOET: @jamesvanderbeer who cares?? Anyone heard of poetic justice?
OLLIETHECATPERSON: I agree. Without his hand, hopefully he won’t be able to murder anyone else. Maybe the doctor did it on purpose, as an act of mercy to humanity
JAMESVANDERBEER: just saying it’s a crime for the football world. He was a great player
HENDRICKSMD: Hard to say from a photo, but burn centers with specialized teams exist for a reason. This reason
That was the last comment Adam read before his vision tunneled, then went black.