Page 124 of A Silence So Divine

My thumb pries her lip from its confine, sliding in past her teeth. The warmth of her tongue presses against the pad of my thumb as I set her sounds free.

Each keen buzzes in my skull, and the edges of my vision blur. It builds and builds, aiding me on my journey to oblivion. I feel the press of a heel into my lower back, and her hands find purchase on my arms.

Having no choice, I clamp my own eyes shut. Color and light sparkle behind my eyelids, and I lean down until our foreheads press together. Breaths intermingling, we share oxygen as we share each other.

It builds, and builds, and it’s too much.

It’s too much, almost unbearable.

Her lips move against mine with a whisper.

“Cecil—”

A kaleidoscope of sensation washes over me, and I experience an eternity of bliss all in a matter of seconds. Her body adheres to mine as her back bows from the mattress, her nails slicing into my flesh. No pain reaches me, and I’m not sure it ever will again.

At 2:13 A.M., on a muggy Louisiana summer night, I find salvation in the arms of a girl.

Fifty One

Eden

When sleep finds me, it’s brief. For a few hours, I float through the aftermath of heaven’s touch in a pool of deep, dark slumber. No thoughts penetrate the walls we’ve built around us. It’s him and I, flesh to flesh, savoring an impossible opportunity of solace.

Until I wake.

My head rises and falls to the rhythm of his breathing, his heartbeat thumping against my cheek. One of my hands rests low on his stomach, and in a moment of bravery, my fingertips trace over each individual muscle that resides there. The twitch of his abdomen gives me pause. Then, the brush of knuckles across my lower back. The rumble of a voice laden with fatigue.

“The sun will be up any minute.”

I crane my neck to get a peek of him, but with my head tucked beneath his chin, all I’m met with is the shadow of stubble across olive skin. The light has been turned off, but morning’s muted blue peeks through the curtains.

The reality of the day crawls from the confines of my mind. Talons dig into my psyche and work their way forward, extinguishing any residual bliss I might have felt.

There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. No attic to disappear into. Years of suffering and torment have led me here.

Extracting myself from the warmth of Cecil’s body, I sit up. The blanket pools around my hips, and his eyes track the movement.

“What is the date?”

He squints into the darkness. “The date?” He asks.

I nod.

“June eleventh.”

My lips turn down ever so slightly.

I was never sure of my birthday—Papa thought celebrations were improper—but I know it’s this month. Once, he slipped and muttered something about my turning ten ‘soon’. That night, I snuck into his office to check the calendar. It was June. Ever since, I’ve celebrated my birthday, alone, on a random day of the month. Until now, that is. I hadn’t even realized June arrived.

Will I die at twenty two or twenty three?

The not knowing sinks into the pit of my stomach, leaden and sour.

When I return to Creed’s room, I expect to find him as comatose as I left him. It’s not quite 5:30, and he isn’t known for waking any time before 8 o’clock. However, stepping into the room, I’m met with curious eyes.

I hesitate, looking down at myself. Even in my nightgown, I worry he’ll sense that I had been nude in his brother’s bed mere minutes ago.

His face is passive enough that I’m confident moving forward and lowering to the edge of the bed. The hair on his forehead sticks straight up, a line running down his cheek from the crease of a pillow.