Body of death

Cameron woke up to a man sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing slightly, so as to wake him. They could have been brothers, twins, mirrors. Adam had greasy, unkempt hair and bloodshot eyes. Adam’s eyes though, were hungry and alert and Cameron’s were trying to stay shut.

Cameron pulled the sheets and pillow back up over his face and grumbled, “Don’t you ever sleep?” “G’morning to you too.” Adam said, feigning offense.

Cameron didn’t move, except starting to breathe deeply again. “Cameron…” Adam sang, in a 10-year old voice.

“Go away.” “Give up Cam, you’re awake, you might as well get up.” “Fine. I’m up.” Cameron glared at Adam but swung his feet out, planting them firmly on the carpet. And then he fell back into the sheets.

“Come on Cam, up you get. Here’s your phone,” Cameron pushed it away, “No?” Adam replied. “Go away!” Cameron shouted. “Someone might hear you.” Adam said, in the same sing song voice. “Shut up!” “Sassy aren’t we? What about your email, you haven’t checked that yet. What if you got something important?” “Fine. But I’m just looking at my mail. Nothing else.” “I know,” Adam smiled. “Why don’t you get on Netflix? See if they added anything.” Cameron nodded, “I guess it’s usually pretty tame.” “Exactly, right.” Adam said, as if Cameron had thought of this himself. “No!” Cameron shook himself before he went down, “No. I’ll get in the shower. Clear my head.” Cameron grabbed a fresh set of clothes and turn the shower on. He brushed his teeth while the water warmed up. The hot water immediately grounded him. Cameron breathed in and out and heard Adam’s voice in his ear, “Do you remember that girl from yesterday at the grocery store. Remember she had yoga pants? Didn’t she have a nice- Cameron brought his elbow backwards connecting with Adam’s head. Adam howled and screamed obscenities at Cameron. Cameron wasn’t listening though. He grabbed Adam by his matted hair and through it into the tile. Blood poured out from Adam’s forehead mixing with the water, down the drain. Cameron switched the water from the showerhead to the faucet and held Adam’s head under until screams turned to gurgles turned to nothings.

When Cameron was done with his shower, he stepped over Adam and dried himself. Going downstairs to make breakfast, he passed pictures of his children and a happy picture of him and his wife. One of the few and even then, she seemed to scream at him with her eyes. He shook his head at himself and started to sip his black coffee, looking out into the Portland grey, the indiscernible. The grey that only seemed to lift in June, July, and August, and not even fully at that. He sat down and started playing with his eggs and toast, the chinking of the fork against the plate the only noise in the large house.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Adam said from the doorway. “Go away,” Cameron said, not looking up. “Make me, you prick.” There was a sharpness in Adam’s voice that had been honeyed before. Bitter as gall. Smelling of death. “I’m leaving,” Cameron said. “Why not rest a little. It doesn’t start for an hour and you’re the laziest person I know.” “Shut up!” Cameron yelled. “No.” Cameron muttered, “You’re intolerable. “That’s the point you rotten piece of shit. I’m never leaving you. You’ll never be free. Your God promised he’d never leave but he already has. You aren’t worth- “Liar!” Adam shouted obscenities again but Cameron was running out the door. His bag was over his shoulder, frayed at the corners. Tired. He rode his bike in and out of traffic. He was a salmon, avoiding bears and every damning thing he could. Stopping was death.

The bus stop forced him to wait. His Castle and refuge was too far to bike in an hour. Adam walked up and shouted at him, “What did I say!” “Fine. Here we go. I’ll do this every day.” Cameron matched his tone and took off his bag. “Oh Mr. Tough guy comes out. Come on, we’ve been here a thousand times I’ll do this a thousand more. You can’t be different. You can’t change. If anyone knew you, they wouldn’t be ABLE to love you,” Adam screamed, nearly in hysterics.

While Adam was talking Cameron moved closer and stepping with one foot behind him he shoved him. Adam grabbed Cameron and they both fell, both trying to get on top. “Son of a b-“ Adam started but Cameron landed an elbow on Adam’s throat. He gaped like a fish on shore. Cameron was a bull who finally had his matador. He got up and found a fractured pallet. Adam was still holding his throat. Cameron brought down the wooden cat of nine-tails on him again and again. Forty minus one.

Adam laid on the street, not breathing feet together and arms out, and back arched. Cameron placed his foot on Adam’s heart and put all his weight on it. A sickening crunch, ribs splayed out. It was finished.

The metro bus pulled up and gathered Cameron in.

He walked into the Castle, trying to straighten his jeans and act normally. There were three-hundred people in that hallowed room. A grizzled man walked up to the front. He wore a suit and carried a leather bound, wrinkled book that matched his face for age. The pianist stopped while he spoke to the congregation. “Good morning and God’s peace be with you. Would you turn with me to this Lord’s day scripture? We read in Jesus’ blessed name. ‘Now if I do the things I don’t want to, it isn’t me but Sin that dwells in me. So I find it a law that when I want to do what’s right, evil lies close at hand. You see, my heart delights in the Law of God but I see, in my broken flesh, another law at war against my heart. It holds me captive to my flesh. Wretch that I am, who will free me from this body of death?”