ADAM

 

One Week After MARCUS Troy’s Funeral

ONE YEAR AGO

 

 Sunlight streamed in through glass windows, forcing me back to the world of the living and the transition wasn’t pleasant.

Consciousness spread like a rude awakening with a jolt of sharp pain in my skull and pushed its way through my bones, building up to a torturous throb, felt like someone pounding my bones. I sat up on the bed, shivering, my weak arms failing to provide comfort from the agony. Everywhere I touched, my skin burned hot with fever. I felt nausea building in my chest. The room I was in wasn’t familiar. It had white walls, bare except for a few furnishings, a vase with fresh gardenias.

There were no sounds, nothing to indicate if there were people in the house. For all I knew, it might have been empty.

I sat there for a long time, no strength to get up and check to see if the door was still locked. A wave of nausea forced me to get off the bed and I tried to stand steady on my feet, but it wasn’t easy with all the pain. Somehow, I made it to the bathroom, and propped myself on it with two arms, threw up the contents of my stomach. But I didn’t have the strength to go back.

I sat there on the cold tiles, back against the wall, and though the nausea was non-existent now, everything else still hurt.

I don’t remember passing out, but I remember coming awake in a state of panic. No one came to my help. I feared I would die in here, alone.

Rho. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I pictured his arms around me and started to cry when I thought about the emptiness that surrounded me instead. Even if I lost every reason to live, I would still have him. If he hated me and never wanted to see my face, I would live with his memory. But his voice, and the way his face always lit up when he saw me, the possibility of it alone was reason to live.

Something other than Rho’s memories invaded my brain. Marcus Troy. Don’t think about him, don’t go there… a face flashed in front of my eyes, mocking me. I could feel it. His contempt and his cruelty. Don’t fucking go there Adam. The perverseness of the things he did. How he went to great lengths to humiliate me and hurt me, I couldn’t comprehend. Why he had to dehumanize me by reducing me to a piece of flesh for him to use and throw away; Marcus took a piece of me and worsened the emptiness Rho tried to fill. He was inside me, still, I could feel him. Not just in my body but in my head, pillaging, taking control, and destroying everything in its wake.

No matter how hard I tried to push these thoughts and images, they always came back.

I had to survive this somehow. I had to stay alive, I could go back to Rho. By now, he must be going crazy. We’ve never been apart. The longing for him became harder to bear with each moment.

I felt like this was punishment, I couldn’t think of a crime warranted this penalty. Still, if I was a sinner, I prayed to God to forgive me. I wouldn’t complain, if he could let me see Rho again. I’ll do anything, God. Just please take me back to him.

I was thirsty, and I needed to go. I hauled myself off the floor, lowered my pants to pee and it stung. My body felt like it was filled with acid making everything burn. I might have let out a cry of pain. Somehow, I made it to the sink. I ran the tap water and drank from it. I couldn’t get the satisfaction I craved because every drop tasted bitter.

There was a new toothbrush and tons of other stuff on the counter. I took the cap off and brushed my teeth and rinsed out the taste of vomit with a significant amount of mouthwash. I could barely stand by then.

Still shivering, I dragged my way back to the room, and noticed the curtains were drawn. There were two pills placed next to a glass of milk and a plate of fresh baked cookies on the nightstand. Someone was in here. The vanilla from the cookies wafted in the room’s dense air. My stomach rumbled at the sight. I didn’t know how much time had passed. I was starving. I was certain the pills were antibiotics. Or poison. Truth be told the hunger was bad enough for me to eat a poisoned cookie and wash it down with cyanide milk. Besides, if he wanted to poison me, he could have done it with water, or milk. Putting it in the form of pills seemed like a hassle. Or, he’s a lunatic, who wants to give you hope in the form of fresh baked desserts and take it away the next second with poison in tablet form.

The truth was these pills could help me. They could take away the agony. Was I ready to go on suffering by refusing them?

I must have hovered over the plate for an hour. Or at least it felt like an hour. Every time I pictured myself having those cookies, I felt an intense sense of shame overwhelming me. Wasn’t this the last dignity left? Taking his food, and his help in any shape or form would be admitting defeat.

Maybe if he realized I wasn’t going to consent, he would have no choice. He would let me go. He would know I had to be with Rho, I couldn’t even picture myself being with anyone else.

I lay back down on the bed and curled up into a ball, hoping the fever and the pain would lull me back to sleep. The slight whirring sound from the vents surprised me, and cold air hit. At first, I thought I imagined it. Until my teeth started chattering and the pain in my bones got worse.

I wanted to cry.

I didn’t. Somehow, I knew he was watching. There had to be a camera hidden somewhere in this room. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I lay back down on the bed, and tried once again to sleep.