Friday, 5 December 2014

Angel's sin


SIN
KINDELL  C. LEWIS

If one sins by killing a bigger sinner, is it still a sin? Or do the two cancel each other out? If you think about it, some murders are actually an act of humanity, of compassion, a good deed; Especially if the deceased was a menace to those who walk with the Lord.

Yes, that is my logic, my beliefs. My name is Angel and I will not be swayed.

 

The repeat sinners name is Michael. He was my first love, my biggest mistake. I know now that I must kill Michael. His actions have left me no choice. Michael has led me to my destiny and himself to an early grave. What a shame.

 

If Michael were to go on living, his sins of greed, gluttony, rage would have continued day in and day out. His unholy actions would damage dozens of people, maybe more- though I certainly have gotten the worst of it. My name is Angel and tonight I full fill my destiny.

 

We are parked in Michaels Ford pickup in a densely populated area of Northern California, home of the Redwood National Forest. After driving us here I dragged Mike to the driver’s side where he now lays slumped against the door. His face is ash grey and his chest is barely rising and falling.

 

“Oh Michael- you okay baby”? My sing song voice is eerie, sarcastic, full of hate. For a moment it unnerves me.

 

I look over at my boyfriend of three years. He almost looks like the boy I fell for back in high school. There’s a sweetness about him, as his body fights the lethal dose of narcotics I have been slipping him for the past 48 hours. Yes in his comatose state he almost looks innocent-almost but not quite. With every painful punch he landed on my face, he lost a bit of his boyish charm. Every time he broke one of my ribs his face, took on a bit of darkness.

 

 I reach over and back hand Michael- hard. “Stupid prick”. This insult hisses out of me. I spit on his face. Nothing happens. There’s no reaction. He doesn’t jump up and choke me, no rants, no insults. Yes, he’s definitely out cold. The question is, for how long?

 

I turn my attention to the rearview mirror and study my skinny, bruised and bloodied face. I open my mouth to examine where my front tooth used to be. Michael removed it for me a couple days ago by slamming my face into the dashboard over and over and over again. God, I’m hideous. In that moment, I have no control over my body. Like a knee jerk reaction I throw my elbow, with all my might, into Michaels collar bone. There is a sickening yet satisfying popping sound. It makes me smile.

 

“I can see why you are so into this Michael- it’s kind of a turn on the have so much so much power. It’s exciting to cause bodily harm to the one you love. Especially if you have the upper hand.”

This time I cup the back of Michaels listless head. I take a deep breathe, and then slam it with admirable force into the steering wheel. I am, oddly enough entertained at the way his face works like a rubber ball being bounced.

 “ There’s only one big difference Michael. You deserve it. I didn’t.

Now it’s come to this. You’re going to die a sad, lonely death in the river you’ve been scared of since you were three. You know why Michael? Because you’re a habitual sinner. Because you have done nothing to right your wrongs. You’re going to be killed because you deserve you it. No one will feel sorry for you. The people who are forced to love you will be angry and disappointed in you. You will be remembered for exactly what you are a piece of trash drug dealer. A woman beating waste of space. In fact I hope that’s how your obituary describes you.”

 

 

I take a deep breath and step out of the truck. I need to control my anger. After all it is a sin and I am here to do God’s work. No mistakes Angel, I tell myself. There’s no turning back now.  This has to happen. It’s self –defense and a service to humanity. I look up at the sky dominated by the majestic full moon. The fact that the moon is at it’s best and brightest on this fateful night is no coincidence. The new harvest moon, also known as the super moon is a source of feminine power and rejuvenation. It symbolizes rebirth and strength. More importantly it provides just enough light for me to see what I’m doing, but not enough for others to see what I do.

 

“Breathe Angel,” I tell myself . you’re doing God’s will. “Why else would you and Michael’s paths cross? You are fulfilling your destiny. This is why they named you Angel”

The moon seems to give me a renewed sense of purpose . I feel a moment of clarity. I listen to the flow of the mighty Rogue River, which is only a few feet away, and focus on my breathing The air smells as it always does late in summer. Each breath fills my nostrils with a mixture of Pine trees, moss, Redwood and of course, cannabis. For being such a beautiful place the Redwoods of northern California coast certainly had a dark under current. Yew I’d come too far not to follow through. I begin to recite psalms 24

Yea through I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil, for though art with me.”

 

The words sooth and reassure me. This is God’s will.  I am not the only one damaged by the errors of Michaels ways, His little brother Noah already believes that slapping women is the only way to get them to love you. His sister Hannah thinks that “whore” is a term of endearment. Yes he has to be stopped for good. If he isn’t his sin will spread like Ebola, like corruption, like that black plague.

 

In a perfect world, I would just leave the sinner alone. Pack up my dignity (what’s left of it), my very few worldly possessions and leave. I would not say good bye and I’d live happily ever after. It just wasn’t that simple, God knows I tried. Six months ago Michael actually had a legitimate construction job. Pushing drugs, stealing and beating me senseless were only hobbies back then. One morning after a night of fighting and drug binging, Michael left for work, and I left him. I hitch hiked to my mother’s house and planned to never go back. Six hours later, Michael had set the house on fire and was dragging me away by my hair. I haven’t heard from any family members since.

 All these memories could not of come at a better time. It may be my destiny to end the cycle of sin, but it is in the best interest of many,

 I calmly pull a pair of cotton dollar store gloves out of my pockets and put them on. The time is near.

 

I continue to pray as I chant verses of scripture. “Thy rod and thy staff they shall comfort me” I calmly open the driver’s side door leaning against Michael to pop the hood I open the fuse box and lightly count by touch. One, two, three fuses to the left. I pull the fuse for the headlights and throw it into the river, I then replace the fuse with the defective one. No one would believe that a driver would travel fourteen miles without their headlights on… no matter how high they were. Also the truck would be found way too soon if headlights were seen floating down the river. I had to have enough time to execute and establish my final steps, I have to complete my destiny After saying a prayer for  Michaels soul, I prepare one last lethal cocktail. This time I mix heroin, cocaine and Xanax . I draw it up into the syringe carefully extracting every last drop. It is enough to  kill three people. I don’t want him to suffer , after all this is someone that I once loved. May he drown blissfully unaware of his last terrifying moments.

 

Once back inside the passenger seat, I turn the light switch and the key both to the on position. I use the moonlight to find a vein in Michael’s forearm. In reality Michael was not an intervenes user. He thought he was much better than those who were. He liked to smoke his drugs. He is a known drug user between both gossipers and government officials alike; it wasn’t going to be hard for the investigators to assume he’d graduated to a junkie. After injecting him, I put the needle into Mikes hands . Slowly, methodically I roll it back and forth back in forth, ensuring his prints were all over it. As I do this I quietly sing an appropriate tune ‘

 

Hey now

All you sinners

Put your lights on,

Better leave your lights on

Cause there’s a monster,

Living under my bed,

Whispering in my ear.

And there’s  angel with her hand on my head

She’s saying I got nothing to fear

 

I allow the syringe to fall onto the floor board. It has a bit of Michaels blood left in it. This is no accident. I remove the gloves from my hand, and carefully put them on his. His hands are cold, stiff, rigid. It won’t be long now..

I pause. I take one last long look at the young man I once loved. The smart boy with a bright future, turned waste of space. Such a pity he couldn’t be saved. He now is the epitome of sin.

As I continue to sing, it seems as though my voice is no longer mine. The song comes out eerie, distant, haunting.

 

there’s a darkness living deep in my soul,

It’s still got a purpose to serve.

Put your lights on creep into my home,

God don’t let me lose my nerve

 

“This is the end of the road for us Michael. I told you that you would be sorry. I begged you to repent. I tried to make you a believer, and free you from your sins. If only you had listened. May the Lord have mercy on your soul”. Silently I say one final prayer for his soul.

 

I take a deep breath. Firmly clasping my hands behind my back I bash my head into the dash with all of my might; six times. My wounds are now freshly reopened. I allow blood to drip from my nose and mouth onto the seat and floorboard for a full 6 seconds. With one fluid movement exit the vehicle, and I kick the rocks out from behind the front tires.

Without so much as a push from me, the truck rapidly rolls into the mighty river. As the under current whisks away the first love of my life and the epitome of sin, I continue to pray, I briskly climb to the road. I do not look back.

 

It only takes eleven minutes for the next car to come along the lonely dark highway. I wave my arms dramatically and jump up down. The concerned citizen stops and I tell her my tearful, well-rehearsed tale of a fight with my lover. I insist that that the reason my face is a mangled mess is because I jumped from the vehicle and fell onto the road. I tell her I suspect my boyfriend had taken narcotics.

 

My rescuer’s name is Debra. As she ushers me into her car and heads down the highway towards the nearest town Debra informs me that she does not believe my story. As it turns out Debra deals with such cases of sin every day. She is a social worker trained to spot a victim, and she tells me that I am a classic one. She assures me that Michael will not get away with this. He will be found and brought to justice.  She says I deserve better. Debra has vowed to stay with me and back me up every step of the way. Inside I smile.

 

And surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever and ever

 

As we race towards the hospital Debra asks me “what’s your name baby”?

“Angel”, I tell her. “My name is Angel”.

 

 

2 comments:

  1. My goodness, Kindell, this story is the exact opposite of your merry Treadmill series. I really liked its grittiness though.

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    1. why thank you - exact opposite was what I was going for. I sincerely enjoyed your story too. I love how you associate sounds with feelings, I actually didn't want it to end :)

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