by A. Giacomi
“Well, Mom would have killed everything for certain, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” My mother tosses a dish cloth at my head to protest the mention of her lack of green thumb.
As we laugh, I begin to forget my strange misadventure for a little bit. My body relaxes, and my mind slows down. I feel at ease. I am in the best place on earth. I am home.
***
Dinner is ready an hour later, and we have been chatting about everything from the arrival, to the dig site, to my professor, and of course the food. My parents always seem to look at me like I’m Indiana Jones or something; they think my stories are so fascinating when nothing really exciting ever happens. Sort of like a cop who only gets to patrol for parking offenses. The one time something really weird and sort of exciting happens, I can’t even tell them about it or else they’ll freak out! I can’t tell them about the incident. My parents are the worst sort of worry warts; they’ll want to take me to the doctor and check the wound, which I can’t even produce to prove there ever was an incident. It’s all better left unsaid. Buried in my subconscious.
My mother sets a plate of grilled chicken, a baked potato, and a vegetable medley in front of me. She definitely has a flair for food presentation. I see the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepen as she smiles; she knows she’s a great cook. It looks so delicious, I dig in immediately. I finish my plate with as little discussion as possible. I missed my mom’s home-cooked meals, which is very obvious from the way I polish the plate.
“I guess you liked you meal then?”
To which I reply, “Absolutely not! Worst meal I’ve ever had!” My mother smiles, knowing my sarcasm will never cease and pleased that I enjoyed the meal so immensely, or had I?
My stomach begins to lurch; I feel as though someone has just grabbed my intestines and tied them into a large knot.
My father notices first. “You alright, hun? You look all red in the face.”
I look at my father and nod, trying to pretend to be okay, and excuse myself to go to the washroom. The pain is excruciating. I double over onto the floor of the hallway bathroom and grab at my stomach. I’m sweating from the jolts of pain sweeping through my body. I make it to the toilet and dispose of every piece of food I have in me to give. I continue to heave until nothing is left and I’ve made a complete mess of my mom’s lovely pink washroom.
I lean against the wall, exhausted. That didn’t feel like any puke session I’ve ever had before, and trust me, I’ve had some pretty rough drinking nights before that I wished never to re-live. Winston is poking his nose under the door trying to see if I’m alright.
“I’m okay, boy. Shhh, go to Momma.” I take few more minutes to compose myself before presenting myself to my parents again. I cautiously look in the mirror and wipe the sweat off my face. If I had a tan before, I don’t see it now. I look pale and defeated, but at least it is me staring back this time.
When I walk back into the kitchen, my parents look extremely worried.
“Honey, are you sure you’re alright?” my mother asks.
Now is a good time for a little white lie. “I don’t feel so good. I didn’t keep the meal down. I think I need to go rest. I will have to skip dessert for tonight, Mom.”
She looks down at the large cake with a sigh. “Okay, honey. Maybe you just ate your meal too fast. And yes you’re right, you’re probably just overtired. Go get your rest.”
With that, I depart for my bedroom and throw myself onto the bed, hoping I never have to get up again. I immediately fall into a deep sleep.
***
The monster with the red eyes appears again. He chases me down another tunnel. I feel blood trickling all over me; it’s so dark I can’t see the wound or wounds. My arm stings, my neck stings, and my legs don’t want to work anymore. I stumble to the ground and begin to crawl. The monster’s breath is on my neck; it’s so close. This is the end. It will finish me off, and there will be nothing left but bones. I accept my fate, laying flat on the ground, no longer struggling. Let me die. Let it be over. My eyes close as the teeth plunge into my throat. All I hear is gurgling, sputtering, and crunching of bones. The monster lets out a horrid squawk; it’s not a human sound at all. My eyes close.
Moments later, I awake in a white room. I’m not dead? Perhaps this is the afterlife. I get to my feet and look around, but there is nothing in this white room except a mirror. I begin to walk towards it and feel something tear apart. Blood starts to drip onto the white floor. The contrast is so frightening. I hear something thud to the ground; I look quickly to the right, where the sound came from. My right arm lies on the ground, fingers still moving. I stare at the stump, horrified. I wonder why it doesn’t hurt. Blood continues to drip; I’m so terrified something else will fall off. I start walking quickly towards the mirror, because even though I am terrified, I need to know what is happening to my body. I need to know what’s left of me. I want to run to the mirror and realize I’m only slowing down. The blood leaves trails behind me.
When I make it to the mirror, I start screaming. It’s not me anymore. I’m looking at a monster! There is not much skin left. What is left on my face is peeling off, and there is blood all over me. Nothing human is left. The most horrifying part is my eyes. They are as red as fire. I want to cry at what I’m looking at, but I can’t cry. I feel as though I am trapped in this new form. I continue to stare in the mirror, and every cry comes out as a shriek. I’m going mad. My disgust grows, and I feel the desire to feed. I begin to chew at my other arm; for some reason, it feels good. I chew feverishly until blood spatters on the walls of the white room. I chew until the limb crashes to the floor. I am satisfied.
I glance again in the mirror and no longer feel disgust. I feel power. I lick some of the blood running down my face. It tastes euphoric.
I am starting to love the monster within me.
***
I jolt upright, and my face is moist. I wipe away several layers of drool. Thank God it’s only drool. I may have been sleeping for what seems like a year, but when I check the clock, it has only been a mere hour and a half nap.
What a strange dream, or maybe it was the stomach bug making me hallucinate? I look around the room for the source that awakened me from my slumber. My stupid phone. Why didn’t I turn you off? I think.
I pick up the phone reluctantly and hear Alex’s horrified voice. “Shhh shhh, Alex, slow down so I can understand you completely.”
She takes a deep breath and tries again. “He hit him hard this time, Eve. Cam’s in the hospital. I really didn’t think he’d do this again, especially not since the last episode.”
I know exactly what Alex is referring to, and I grind my teeth.
Back in high school, Cam’s dad had about as much to drink every evening that a small liquor store could stock. One night, Cam joined Alex and me for the Little Lake Music Fest, and we dropped him off at home afterward. Cam already told good old Henry about his whereabouts that evening, because he wasn’t a rebellious kid; he respected the “my house, my rules” attitude that Henry requested. But in Henry’s drunken state, he determined that Cam never mentioned this “little concert of his” and was home way past his curfew. I can only imagine his hands raising towards Cam and making contact. I squeeze my eyes shut and force the memory out before I can envision anything further.
Cam never says much about that night, but the bruises spoke louder than any explanation could have. He received a lovely black eye patch and many new shiny bruises along his arms and legs. After that night, Cam was ready to leave home.
He lived with me for a few weeks until his dad came around begging for his son’s forgiveness and pleading with him, telling him over and over again that he would never lay another hand on him again. At first, Cam was hesitant, but he forgave his father, and apart from drunk nights where Henry passed out on the sofa, there was no more violence.
I resented Henry
every day after that. Cam spent a lot of time taking care of his drunken dad instead of getting to be a normal teenager. I don’t know why Cam felt the need to protect that loser. Maybe guilt? Maybe because he felt his mother would want him to? Maybe it was out of pity? It was such a role reversal that it boggled my mind. Cam’s always been the father in that relationship. He takes care of Henry, even when he never reciprocates it.
I guess I can understand why Henry drinks so much. He lost his wife so horrifically, but it’s no excuse to soil her memory by treating her only son like shit.
I snap out of my memories and refocus on Alex’s voice.
“We need to see him.” Her voice quivers.
“What hospital, Al? How bad is it?”
She’s sobbing on the other end. Even though I can’t hear it, I know it from the silence in between her sentences.
“He’s unconscious is what they told me, and he’s at the local hospital in Little Lake.”
I don’t need to hear any more. I tell her, “I’ll be at your house in ten minutes. Be ready and we’ll go see Cam together.”
I run downstairs and find Winston blocking the doorway. He is snarling at me as if I am one of the neighborhood cats trespassing on Brenner property. Strange. Does he know something is up?
CHAPTER NINE
ALEX
I’m biting my nails as I wait for Eve to show up. I don’t understand why Henry would do this to Cam after all these years. He seemed to be on better behaviour, although he still drank himself numb.
I can honestly care less about what happened to Henry. He is a bad father, and everybody knows it. I remember going over to Cam’s house when we were younger, and Henry always left everything a mess. He left Cam to clean up after him. I wonder if Henry knows how others view him or if he cares. I wonder if he realizes how bad his addiction has become.
His wife died in such a tragic and unforeseen way, and sure, that will leave scars, but how can he do this to his son? Doesn’t he know Cam has emotional scars too?
Cam’s mom died in a car accident when he was only eleven years old. From what Cam has told us, she was a pretty awesome mom. She would always sit with him and help him with his homework; she loved to bake with Cam and taught him some recipes he shares with us sometimes.
Henry still drank when she was alive, but he wasn’t so angry then. Cam tells us the night she died, she had a really huge argument with Henry about his drinking. She said she was going for a drive to clear her head but never came home.
A drunk driver struck her car, and she spun out of control. As a result, she hit a metal pole, splitting the car and herself in half. It must have been awful for little Cam, and how was he expected to cope with a father that was never there for him? I think the guilt from that night ate up what was left of anything good inside of Henry. Cam tells us that’s when the worst of it started. His father became cold, distant, and abusive. He was so lost in his own pain that Cam was forgotten.
Rage is brewing in my mind. Was his own pain so much more important to him than his son? What a selfish, no good sack of shit. I take a breath, trying to douse the fire brewing within my chest. I feel heat flowing through to my fingers and pull them into fists, almost ready to punch through a wall.
In so many ways, I can’t understand addiction; it just never seems like an addiction to the drug of choice but rather an addiction to self-destruction. Henry is doing a great job of that; unfortunately, he is taking Cam down with him.
I hear a honk outside. Great, she’s here. I am glad to leave these dark thoughts for a moment and just get going.
“Hey, Eve,” I say as I give her a hug, and we exchange worried glances.
I get in the car and notice she looks pale and her eyelids are puffy. I don’t have to ask what’s wrong. We share our anger and let it fill the car. We don’t speak on the way to the hospital. I can tell Eve is very focused on getting us there as soon as we can. She may have missed a few stop signs, but I’m not going to question that at a time like this.
***
When we arrive, the nurse gives us a bit of a hard time, seeing as we aren’t family.
“But we are the best thing he’s got!” I shout at the nurse. “Let us see him now!”
The nurse rolls her eyes and says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
We are truly all he has available to him. His dad is being held at one of the police stations, and rightfully so. None of his cousins live anywhere near here. Everyone else is dead. We are his family now, and if only the nurse fully understood that, then perhaps she wouldn’t hesitate to let us in.
After some more threatening words from Eve—man, she has balls—we are able to see Cam. He is hooked up to some machines, and some parts of his face look a bit purple. I can’t help it; I start to cry. Eve puts her arm around me and brings me closer to Cam, who is clearly still unconscious. Eve takes the hand free of wires and devices, and I simply sit beside her in a state of shock while she caresses his hand. We do this for about thirty minutes, and I continue to sweep through many emotions like pity and grief and anger. That drunken bastard Henry should get beaten and made some guys bitch in jail for this. My thoughts are not normally so cruel, but I am so livid that I can’t help but think it.
I’m sure I pass out a few times while waiting because I jolt awake forgetting where I am. When it registers that I’m in the hospital, I look to Eve and see that she hasn’t moved, or slept, and her hand still cradles Cam’s larger hand. She looks like a statue, frozen in time. Isn’t she tired? We just got back from a long trip and haven’t even settled back into our lives yet.
I take a closer look; Eve’s eyes are very intently gazing at Cam in an evil, vicious kind of way. I almost don’t recognize her. Eve’s eyes seem to glow a strange shade of red; conceivably it is just a reflection off of one of the machines in here. The ferocity in her stare must mean she is lost in her thoughts, perhaps plotting ways to kill Henry.
The look in her eyes terrifies me. My skin grows bumpy as a chill fills the room. I worry that Eve is stuck that way. Why isn’t she moving? Is she even breathing?
I shake her. “Eve, Eve, what’s wrong?”
She doesn’t seem to snap out of it. This is getting creepy.
I stand up and clap my hands in front of her and shout again, “EVE!”
She snaps out of it as if nothing has happened. “What the hell, Alex? You scared the shit out of me! Will you calm down? Jesus!”
My mouth hangs open. I’m about to ask her where the hell she spaced off to, but the doctor comes in, and that means questioning Eve will have to wait. I tell myself she was most likely sleeping with her eyes open, but I am still pretty creeped out. I’ve never seen Eve do that in all the years I’ve known her.
“Hello ladies,” the doctor greets. “I’m Doctor Bergum. Now this boy is a friend of yours?”
We both nod.
“Does Mr. Jackson have any family in the area that can be reached?”
I heard Eve mumble something to herself. It sounds like she says, “No, just a sorry excuse for a father.”
I cut in before the doctor can make out what she’s saying. “No, he doesn’t have anyone but us, and we’ll gladly take him in after he’s released. What is the extent of his injuries?”
I’m not sure I want to hear the answer if it’s bad news.
He glances at his chart for a second. “Looks like he received a forceful blow to the head resulting in a minor concussion. He has a broken rib and quite a few bruises. He will heal. We just have him on some pain killers at the moment. He will awaken soon enough.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God, he’s going to be okay.”
The doctor nods towards me before being called away by a nurse in the hall. He is gone as quickly as he arrived. I still have more questions, but I guess they will go unanswered until Cam wakes up. Dang doctor shortage.
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“Our government really needs to invest in getting more people working out here.” I look at Eve and give her an exasperated smirk as I say it; she returns the expression, and we go back to our sitting posts.
At some point, my eyes close. As I drift off to sleep, I hear a hissing sound. I open my eyes to see Eve slumped over and sleeping like the dead. Cam hasn’t moved an inch. Everything looks as it should. I close my eyes once more, but I continue hearing it. I convince myself that I’m just exhausted and imagining things. I soon ignore the sound and drift off into a deeper sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
CAM
There is a strange ringing in my ear when I awake. It causes me to twitch in my bed.
Wait, this isn’t my bed. “Where am I?” I ask groggily.
I guess I said that out loud because a reply comes quickly afterward.
“You’re in room 223, recovering from your injuries,” Eve says with a matter-of-fact look on her face. Now that’s the kind of face you want to wake up to.
She jumps up and smiles at me. For a moment, I think it’s just us in the room, but then Alex materializes behind her.
“Thank God you’re awake, Cam. We were so worried.”
I try to roll my eyes at Alex to show my resentment for her pity, but I can’t; it hurts too badly. I take a moment to observe my bruise-riddled body.
“Yeah, I guess you would be worried seeing me like this.” I point from my face to my toes.
Eve comes closer, and my heart picks up the pace. Why does it have to do that whenever she gets closer? I try not to look into her cool blue eyes; I get much too lost in them. Her eyes change as she looks at me more seriously now; the slight grin she had a second ago is gone. “What happened, Cam? Why did Henry do this?”
It all happened so fast I need a moment to remember the events from the night before.
“I just remember getting home. I called around for Henry, but I didn’t see him in the house. I started putting my stuff away.” I scratch my head, trying to remember what came next.
