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Originally Posted by ratbastid
And then there's this. I'm not sure I've even told lurkette about this.... I still feel like shit about this. I'm 9 or 10. I'm at summer camp. There's a dance, and it's fun (sort of... I was, mysteriously enough, fairly popular at this camp, and I was totally on guard against my old unpopular self showing up, so there was some stress from that). At the end of the night, one of the counselors, a cute blond girl, announced that the dance was over and it was time to go back to our cabins. I thought I'd be cute and throw this paper airplane I'd just made at her. I called out her name (I've blocked this memory so hard I can't even remember her name), she turned around, and I threw the airplane. It flew straight from my hand as if it was on rails, and hit her right in the eye. She screamed and held her eye, and I ran away. The next day was the last day of camp, and I avoided her (while surrepticiously looking to see whether her eye was okay, which I ultimately wasn't able to determine) until my parents came for me.
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Some years ago at a cub scout camp, outside in a large field where ~40 of us were just goofing off, I made the mistake of deciding to play with a boomerang that was there for us to use. I liked boomerangs and was pretty good at throwing the ones I had (have) at home. Now, it probably goes without saying that this one was not an authentic boomerang. It was neither made of wood, nor should it have been around a bunch of cub scouts. This particular craptastic toy was pressed somewhere for .05 cents a unit. It was a particularly flimsy, too light, neon orange death spinner. It had an edge that would've given the best ginsu knife penis envy.
So I threw it, expecting it to act the exact same way as my heavier, wooden ones at home. It didn't. It flew much too high, then swooped down from the top of its flight... straight acrossanother kid's face and the bridge of his nose. It bled horribly and they ended up calling an ambulance to take the kid to get stiches. I don't even know how many that kid needed. But I didn't have the luxury of leaving the next day. This happened halfway through the first week of a three week camp. So, instead of finding the kid later and apologizing, I avoided him at all costs. A glance at him offered me nothing but a pit in my stomach and a quick turn in the other direction. That worked until he came up to me during the last day. He yelled at me, threatened me, and used profanity I'm still impressed with.. and I just sat there and took it because I deserved it for not doing anything to help the situation.
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When I was 16 I also helped my dad bury the neighbors' new kitten that he accidently backed over as he was driving me to my boy scout meeting. I know he couldn't've helped it; our driveway was at such a slope that you couldn't see anything that short directly behind the car... but he just grabbed two shovels, started digging a hole under a bush that would easily cover the newly dug dirt and told me to help him. I just stood there watching the death throes of this kitten, not knowing how to help it. I couldn't bring myself to do it any more harm, even if it meant ending its pain quickly. I just stood there until it stopped moving, then picked it up, placed it in the hole, and buried it myself. I don't think my dad ever told the neighbors what happened... just acted like he knew nothing and probably outright lied about it. But I never told them either, didn't even make up a story to tell them so they'd stop worrying about it. Nearly all I could think about was that my dad killed something, a kitten, and actively covered it up so that he wouldn't get blamed for it.
I realize this is probably something of a minor nature to most, and nothing to others, but I've always had a much harder time accepting the death and pain of animals than humans. It affects me much more intensely. Humans get sympathy and worry for emotional problems and issues. The image of this kitten writhing about and pawing at invisible attackers is something that won't leave my mind, and instantly brings tears to my eyes. And, again, I didn't try to take any credit for it.