Children Of Cain

Chapter 1: Forgetting the Sun

I was in the same place. Home, or what was home at first glance, and I was sitting in the living room. Mom and dad were both there, this must've been early years then. I looked up at them, and that's when I knew it was a dream. They were smiling. Sounds rude, they were smiling unnaturally. Their teeth were shown and it felt like their face would snap in half. I got down from the chair and began to waddle through the house, same path as usual. Through the kitchen to the cellar door where it would wait. Open the door, step down, one-two-three.

There she was, right on schedule. Sitting in that corner, staring at the wall. The thing that always hurt was that she never looked scary at first. She just looked average. She turned around and smiled at me, for once. I blinked, why did I have to blink?

Her jaw was hanging on threads of flesh, her tongue missing and you could see the remaining muscle pulling on her throat as she tried to speak some guttural word. She reached forward, her fingers blue and her stomach bloated. She fell down, and that's when the smell came. Her stomach burst and out came that memory, that damned memory.

"You alright?" He asked, stroking my hair. I turned over in my bed and recognized him as the boy I had over. I didn't even remember his name. I smiled faintly, practiced and nodded. He raised his eyebrow, resting his fingers on the back of my head. He traced my temple with his thumb. You know, something tells me that he isn't as dumb as I originally thought. I mean, he was a sports jock but still academically inclined. Maybe, I underestimated him.

"You're a horrible liar, but I won't push."

"Thank you," I said quietly. He smiled, pressing a kiss against my forehead and getting up from the bed. I don't know when was the last time I got a kiss without the sexual intimacy. I don't know how it made me feel, even if it made me feel anything to be frank. He was putting on his pants and reaching around for the shirts which he haphazardly carried into the room and threw aside.

"I gotta go, love, but I hope I can be back?"

I hummed in response, not moving in the bed. He left quickly. I knew the story. He was bisexual, but wasn't out so he didn't want to be seen with a guy. Something, something, stories about masculinity and sports teams being macho. I couldn't really care, it didn't work. Faustian deals, you find reprieve for a minute but everything else falls around you. You are Troy and the Trojan Horse, in all the ironic ways. I wrapped the blanket tightly around me, curling into a small ball.

Yasmeen Point:

I nearly hit the guy that came running out the dorms. Not only did he scare me, this early in the morning, but he nearly made me spill the coffee. Still, I recognize that starry-eyed look anywhere, he must've seen David. Religious name, not so religious in person, or at least orthodox religious. There is something different about this one. His senses aren't the general pump and dump, something tells me that he'll be here more often. Regardless, David needs his coffee and he won't take the dorm coffee. Luckily, I happen to know a cute barista.

I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stepping into the hall with a tall guy walking silently with a towel to the showers.

"On your left," I called moving past him. He luckily heard me and made some room. Old habits tend to die harder than childhood habits, it seems. I wonder if he worked in a kitchen before. Up the stairs, to the left, third door on the right. I knocked, waiting for a response.

Wait, no, the guy was leaving so maybe David still had his door open. I used my wrist to pull down the doorknob, trying not to squish the bag with our breakfast. Deduction was right and it opened into a dark room. Let's see where he's sitting today.

"Morning, Davy."

All I got was a small groan, but he didn't move from the bed. I put the cup and breakfast down on his desk, unusually cluttered. The curtains were drawn but that might just be because of the morning. Clothes were on the floor, not all too unusual. There's what I was thinking I'd see, the mirror. The mirror was a telltale sign of Davy's state. Today, it was covered.

"Dreams?"

"Yeah," he muttered. I had my own assumptions about why he covered the mirror when he went under. Most of them were about how he couldn't look at himself, or at least around himself in the mirror. That explains the heart-eyed guy who nearly trampled me over.

"Want some breakfast?"

"I'll eat later."

"You and I both know that's a lie, Davy," I said, picking up some of his clothes and putting them on his chair, "Even just one donut hole, please?"

He didn't shuffle. It wasn't unusual for him to skip meals. Looking around his room, he might've skipped more than just meals. Eventually, I went and sat on the bed next to him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Why does it hurt?"

"What?"

"I wasn't even there."

"Oh, well, I don't know. You know, I remember seeing people cry when a celebrity died. We didn't know them personally, we weren't there. Still, our age and the impact they had on us was enough to leave us with that hole."

"You think it's that simple?"

"Not a fucking chance, but it's close."

He chuckled hoarsely. I stood up and got the coffee from the container and put it down by his nightstand.

"Semester's starting this week."

"Yeah," he said, sitting up in the bed. He stilled had the blanket wrapped around him like a nun in a habit. He sipped the coffee. He was looking at me, but I knew he wasn't. That was just his gaze, looking beyond everything.

"At least you're drinking. You want a donut hole, Sal made coconut ones just for me."

"When are the two of you going to date?"

"When are you going to go to therapy?"

"Come on, the two of you like  each other. It's as clear as day."

"You know it's not that easy right now. I got to finish this course and then we can focus on that. She and I made that deal."

"So you spoke about it already?"

"No, I  just made that up as a lie," I retorted sarcastically, opening the little bag, "how many do you want?"