The content in the vault made the structure unique. The content in the vault contained the very essence that defined the owner. The vault had a display room attached to it, but the owner only allowed a few selected and specific visitors to view the content. The objects presented in the display room would vary tremendously, depending on who the visitors were. More than often, this particular owner would display several trophies, and despite that, none of the trophies had the owner’s name on them, the owner would still describe the trophies with great pride and enthusiasm. This particular owner had access to all the secrets within the vault—except for one specific secret.
The lock to that specific secret appeared impenetrable. The lock did, however, have one flaw. It relied on an electric current, and if the owner didn’t recharge in time, then the door to the secret vault would open. Despite the owner’s determination never to view the content of the secret vault, he still couldn’t resist looking whenever the vault of memories opened. This time, the reward was too late. The batteries had run out, and the door to the past slowly opened. And just then, the owner could see a small fragment of its horrific content.
A shower locker room.
And a man without a name.
People couldn’t even begin to understand who he really was. They couldn’t see the person behind all the camouflage. They were blinded by their own perception. The voice behind his back confirmed it. It was a male voice, as it usually was. This time, the voice reminded him that he was a disgusting human being who didn’t deserve to be treated with respect.
You can’t see me. I’m fooling you.
You only see what you believe.
But tomorrow, people would finally realize who he was. The note was still in his pocket. The consequences of unveiling himself in public sent a cold shiver down his spine. He feared his public humiliation. He started to feel shame and he knew he would feel even guiltier tomorrow. He started questioning his plan, uncertain if his statement was too strong. But he knew some people would consider him a hero.
Standing in line to use the restroom reminded him of all those times as a child when he used to lock himself into the bathroom stalls at the bus station. With nowhere to go, or nowhere to be, he would sit in solitude, isolated from the rest of the world, with nothing to do but to count the time passing him by. But he was satisfied just sitting there, because the two other alternatives were worse. He could either freeze, or go home.
His anxiety grew as he used the urinal. The smell of salt and chlorine reminded him of the man with no name, and the taste of urine.
It’s all in the past. My mind is deceiving me. I’m safe now.
As he washed his hands, he was appalled by his reflection. He couldn’t recognize the man in the mirror anymore. His camouflage was too thick. His own relatives probably wouldn’t recognize him either. But he didn’t care about them. The only person he’d ever cared about was his mother. She was the only person who ever loved him; tomorrow was her funeral.
He wasn’t used to seeing his own reflection. He didn’t own a full-length mirror. He was afraid of the person he’d become. A person who fantasized torturing every person who ever caused him harm. The torturing images brought him relief and got him through the day. The person he ones was, was gone. Replaced by the beast staring back at him now. The transformation was too slow for him to notice. It all had happened gradually. Nothing was left of his smile, which had disappeared a long time ago. He’d stopped brushing his teeth as a child. He couldn’t stand the gagging sensation the toothbrush inflicted on him, and the foamy toothpaste only made it worse. He’d literally forgotten how to smile, how to create the actual movement of the right muscles in order to shape the correct facial expression. He was convinced his life wasn’t going to get any better, and he’d never experience happiness. The past prevented him from living a good life. He couldn’t alter the past, and neither could he live with the past. The injustice was too strong. The beast was filled with hatred and with the thirst for vengeance.
I’ll ruin your life just like you ruined mine.
You’ll be sorry tomorrow.
As he boarded the plane, he received a pitying smile from a beautiful female flight attendant. Her younger colleague, however, turned her eyes to the floor and pretended not to notice the morbid beast in front of her.
The man seated next to him spread his legs, and once again, he was reminded of the man without a name.
The flight menu offered three different package meals, all of them high in energy. He decided he’d order them all.
Just to feel safe.
6 LUST
Friday evening
The numbers brought her ease. They reassured her that life was predictable. As long as she followed the plan, then the numbers would prevail. It was all a matter of simple mathematics.
Two-five-seven-eight.
Today’s number was eight hundred, and she was right on schedule.
Her cell phone had been in her hand for the entire ride to the airport, and she made sure the taxi driver noticed. She was wary of men, always suspicious, because she had no way of knowing if their intentions were good.
As she waited for the driver to take her luggage out of the trunk, she made sure not look at her reflection in the side passenger window. She couldn’t stand her reflection. Her reflection reminded her of what a despicable person she was, and how she’d wronged her family.
In the eyes of her parents, she was nothing but an abomination. Her father couldn’t stand to look at her anymore. According to her mother, her father had removed her picture from the living room wall. It’d been three years since she had last spoken to her father. This year, her mother didn’t even call her for her birthday.
On a Sunday morning, a friend of her brother had apparently told her father what kind of woman his only daughter was. According to her brother, her father cried in church that day. The news had apparently broken her father’s heart.
She felt as if she could collapse at any moment, and she needed three attempts to lift her suitcase high enough to place it on the weight scale. She could feel her body pulsating through the fabric of her clothes, while her head felt light and her feet were numb. The woman behind the counter sounded as if she were addressing a small child.
“Nine,” the female employee said once more. “Your gate is nine C, and boarding is at nine o’clock. Do you understand, what I’m saying?”
She nodded in response. Her hand trembled as she reached for her boarding pass.
Two-five-seven-eight.
If her parents only could see the person she was, rather than the person she could be. Then perhaps her parents could love her again, and perhaps even admire her for expressing her sexuality openly and without shame. If only her parents could accept who she was, then perhaps she could love herself again.
She was never the good child. Growing up, she was always the rascal. She would lead and others would follow. But no matter what she did, her father always forgave her. But not this time. He finally ran out of tolerance, and he’d cried his eyes out in church. He was ashamed of his daughter. But she wasn’t ashamed of who she was. She didn’t think she had any reason to be ashamed. Yet, she felt ashamed every day. Especially when she saw her own reflection staring back at her with judging eyes reminding her that she was a disgusting person whom God didn’t love anymore.
The security woman was encouraging her to join her on the other side. The metal detector didn’t perceive any threat. The female employee reminded her of Jessie. She moved her tongue around in her mouth and stroked her teeth. The taste of Jessie was still in her mouth. A fresh and salty-flavored mix of Jessie’s orgasm and her own saliva. The taste brought a discreet smile to her face, and a memory of how the goose bumps on Jessie’s inner thigh felt when rubbed up against her cheek.