HEADLINE: Man kills brother, God didn’t answer.
(1) Seven years ago. Your name is Cain. You find God when you’re seventeen years old and someone twice your age has a hand down your jeans and the other around your throat. He kisses you as if you’re starving, and you drink it all up like communion wine and the promise of salvation. It is the first time another man touches you and it is the first time you feel God in your bones. It is the first time you feel loved. You come with God’s name behind your teeth and blood in your mouth.
(2) Two years ago. You have always been hungry. You don’t exactly know when it started but you remember the constant crave for attention and love that no one ever gave you. You remember praying each day and each night but God has never answered your prayers. So you went to the bars and you went home with the boys and you let them rip your breathe out of your mouth until you stop to hurt. You never stopped but it felt good to pretend for a while.
(3) Six months ago. You welcome every fist with another prayer. With your knees on the ground and your throat bared. This is what God wants of you. This is what you’re made of. Pull his flesh out of your teeth and swallow, dry.
(4) Nine days ago. You don’t search for God in dark-haired strangers and bleeding mouths anymore. You learned that the hard way.
(5) Monday night. It starts with blood. Your brother calls you a disgrace and a shame and a freak and you can just swallow a certain amount of these words until they cut away every little piece that makes you a fragile human being. You throw a punch before you know what you’re doing and suddenly the blood spills everywhere, on your shirt, on his face, on your knuckles, on his eyes. You see red, red, red - everything is covered in the sacrifice you offer God. You cry and you run and you scream for God’s mercy. God does not care.
(6) Today. You wait for God to kiss you. Maybe you wait for him to kill you. For you, these are both the same.
r.m | published in Cadence | buy me a ko-fi