A strong grip on my collar with a left hand repeatedly slapping me in the face with the right hand. The strength of a grown man is no match for a 10-year-old. But he won’t let me go the slaps turn into hitting with a closed fist to my head. I lived this experience before. This memory of humiliation and betrayal in the streets of the town where my family is from. My brother yelling in my face, drunk as a skunk. I turned loose from his grip, and start backing off from him. “Get the fuck over here, if you run I’m going to chase you down and choke you until you turn purple.”Said, my brother. Why was I living this again in the same place, at the same time? The feeling of betrayal, I noticed the imprint of red lips on his neck. I turned my back and began to run. I hear yelling “get over here! I’m gonna fucking kill you when I see you!” “I’m gonna kill you!”Running through the streets the sun is coming down, the warm climate, running past the trees and the colorful, adobe buildings. The yelling fading away in the distance. The sound of my feet hitting the road starts to sound like a squeaky sound. Like I’m running in a supermarket echoing in a building. I’m no longer in the streets, the floor is a shiny white I’m back in the empty half of the store. I look back and it’s not my sibling anymore but the mannequins that mob out the building. I hear a familiar voice calling my name I look forward and it’s my mother at the end of the aisle. Relieved I run to her and I wrap my arms around her leg. Hugging her I felt safe, at ease with my cheek pressed up against her leg. Until I realized how stiff her leg felt and it wasn’t her. I look up and its nothing more than another lifeless mannequin.
My heart sank into my stomach like the feeling of loneliness and heartbreak. My eyes filled with tears begin to roll down my eyes. I begin to hear a high pitch maniacal laughter. It’s her again, making her appearance before I was gripped by the collar from a terrifying memory. Only now she was about 6 feet away from me. She was pale white about 5’1 not much taller than me. Had pitch-black hair, with big dark gaping eyes. Streams of blood were flowing from her cold eyes as if someone were pushing her eyeballs inward with their thumbs. She had a photogenic smile that showed all her teeth with bright red lipstick around her lips. A large kitchen knife in her hand gripped tight Blood dripping from her hands. Before I could begin to run away she lunges at me swinging the kitchen knife. I put my hands up trying to protect my face. A bloody thick gash appears on the inside of my wrist. In a great world of instant pain, I grip my wrist with my left-hand Blood streaming down my right arm and gushing through my fingers from my left hand. That bitch stabbed me full of fear I begin to make a run for it. I can feel my heart pumping really fast and the feeling of worrisome trying to find the exit out of this gruesome funhouse of horrid memories. Running drops of blood Dripping on the clean white supermarket floor oozing through my fingers holding my arm to try and slow the blood. It’s all over me running through the aisle past the mannequins. I hear whispers chatter like gossip in the break room. Sounds like it’s coming from the lifeless shoppers. I slip on a drop of my own blood and stumble on top of one of the two figures standing there. knocking one over in front of the second mannequin stood alone. My head landing on its crotch face down. I pull my head up and look ahead as I do so the mannequin that I lay on staring right into my eyes. it’s a woman with light green eyes and long brown hair. I don’t recognize her. “you want me to suck your dick now baby?” She asked in a soft-spoken woman voice. I get up and try to continue running away. As I do so she grips my pant leg. I look back trying to break free I lock eyes with her remembering she had such a glamorous look to her with her honey-glazed skin. When she opened her mouth the sound of radio tuning came from her mouth. Like static and audio frequency continuing until it reaches a station. In the deep voice of a man.she asks “My dear boy was this not something you expected to see?”She begins to blink her eyes, frequently until her eyes began to widen much larger and turn black. Her skin no longer giving off that honey-glazed glow. Her skin pale white like plain unseasoned boiled chicken streaks of veins populating on her temple and forehead. “Yeah, your just the same as always and you’ll never change.” She continued in a deep voice. The second mannequin that stood alone begins to walk towards her. It begins to kick her on her side and stomp on her stomach she then releases my pant leg. The figure gets on top of her with its legs holding down her arms sitting on her chest. And presses its thumbs against her wide eyes. She screams in a high pitch women voice the sound of pain and torture. Shes slapping and trying to get the figure off of her. The mannequin facing down at her then pulls it’s head up at me as if it had eyes to stare me down as I watched it dig its plastic thumbs in her eyes, I noticed the mark of lips from a bright red lipstick on its neck.
I’ve heard this before on a rainy October night. We were in her bedroom listening to a clear radio station. “so, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell?” the lyrics playing from the radio. She was trying to get me to stay when all I wanted to do was leave. We went on to argue about our past like we had some sort of way of changing it. Her dark eyes and short black hair had a way of manipulation but not this time. She behaved carelessly as if she had been drinking trying to get me to relax in a sexual manner. She was a scratcher during the moments of ecstasy. She would dig her sharp well-maintained fingernails on my back and dragged them down to the point where skin and sometimes blood collected under her fingernails. It had been at least over a month since she did so. And about 2 weeks she missed her period. We had been on rocky terms. I could smell the alcohol on her breath trying to cover the odor with cinnamon, gum. When you’ve been a prisoner to alcohol before you can smell the bartender across town pouring it into a glass. She gets me on her bed and gets on top of me kissing me on my neck. She runs her hand slowly on the left side of my face. I noticed something from her fingernails. They were somewhat maintained with clear nail polish. But what had me struck was the collection of someone else’s skin under her nails. I grabbed her hand and take a closer look. As I do so she pulls her hand away from me. I push her aside and get up from the bed. “what’s wrong?” In a guilty voice, she asked. “you must think I’m stupid or something? You know what I’m done.” I replied back. I start to head for the door as I do so static on the radio picks up and plays over the music. In an aggressive tone, she asks “so your just going to fucking leave? Yeah, you’re just the same old you thinking you changed and acting like your better than everyone else?” I get to the door with my hand on the door nob. I glance back at her laying on her bed thinking life felt easier being alone. I never had a way with women falling from one toxic relationship to another. But it’s not like I was always innocent. I’ve had my fair share of disloyalty. It didn’t help that my trust for people had been shattered over and over. And maybe even before when I was a kid always given false promises and being betrayed and humiliated by my loved ones my confidence, as well as my trust for people, had been demolished since.
At the edge of my seat with my hands clasped together, explaining to blor. Blor sitting there with a concerned look with his right arm over his stomach holding up his left arm by the elbow and his left hand in an L shape against his head. “So what did you do when you got to the door”? Asked blor. I try to think back and can’t seem to recollect as to what I did afterward. I began to think hard on it and bits of memories start to flashback into my mind, my face is getting slapped and my lower lip is being pulled on. My hands are around her neck I’m on top of her and I’m pushing down with full force. I can see her face red trying to gasp for air until she couldn’t anymore. My hands are making their way to her eyes my thumbs are over her eyes. I start to feel lightheadedness and shortness of breath my vision becomes distorted. Blor sees I’m having a hard time breathing and gets up from his chair and has me sit back on his recliner. Blor grabs my right hand and places it on my belly. “Inhale through your nose and exhale throughout your mouth close your eyes concentrate how the air is flowing out your body.” “We are going to count down from ten,” Blor instructing. Blor started with “ten, nine come on start to count down as well.” “Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two.” finally getting to one with my eyes still closed. I hear nothing but the loud quartz clock. I open my eyes the first thing I see is the ceiling laying back on the recliner. At ease, I start to chuckle. “Thanks, blor you really are quite the doctor”. I hear no response. I adjust the recliner to sit upwards. I look forward, the clock read 2:45 am and I see a figure in the seat where Blor was sitting. Its body was facing the left wall with its arm resting on its desk. I get up and walk towards the figure. Wearing its dark grey Kangol hat matching with its wool sweater. Staring off to the left wall I lift up its hat bald pale white lifeless mannequin. Confused as ever I look around my surroundings. What I saw next shocked me dropping it’s Kangol hat giving me goosebumps and chills down my spine. Bright red lips imprinted on its neck. I head for the door leaving the sound of the quartz clock in the office. Walking through the corridor passing the dim flickering lights. The exit leads me to the side of the building walking forward weeds grow through the cracks of the pavement, abandon and full of neglect associated with the building, I reach the parking lot light pole with the cement foundation. It just finished raining wet leaves on the grown being picked up by the late October wind. It’s pitch back outside. Thanks to the bright LED lights working on the 20-foot pole I could still see the faded giant K on the building. Cigarette butts and the marking of black ash remain on the cement foundation from my last visit. Acknowledging the building as I recall it didn’t seem so lifeless at a time when one had so much joy and curiosity before I was struck by cold-heartedness.
Dark Coffee 