Admus Cain and God
When this monster entered my brain, I’ll never know, but it is here to stay.
The claustrophobic apartment opened its foul mouth and swallowed Admus Cain whole. He sat, motionless, in the belly of the beast, observing the fetid juice that ran down the walls. He sat for twenty one days. A red flashing light; his voice mail was full. He made his way over to the recorder and pressed play, then stumbled onto the couch and waited. The first few hundred messages were from Elizabeth. His mother. He wrinkled his brow in annoyance and reached over to the recorder and pressed delete. He erased Elizabeth over and over again. The next message was from Dr. Bleuler. Delete. When he came to the final message; his muscles tensed and his eyes widened. Her voice resonated throughout the tiny room he called home and shook the thin plywood walls. That voice— her voice—it was talking to him. He quickly reached over to the recorder and pressed replay. “Admus? It’s Violet.” He soaked in the warm, languid honey of her voice, and it dripped its way down as the message played on loop. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you! Where the hell are you? It’s like you dropped off the face of the Earth! God, Admus! I thought you were healthy again. Just call me back when you… when you get this.” He listened to her voice for a long while before drowning in her honey and forcing himself to move into the furthest corner of the room, the kitchen. It was empty, just the way he liked it. The cabinets and a sink and a stack of dishes were piled together haphazardly, alone in their culinary pursuits. Kitchens had always been too loud for Admus. Refrigerators were romance novel-addicted idiots, microwaves never tired of informing the world on the complicated politics of their insides, and he hated all food because food never really said anything he wanted to hear. However, Admus always had a thing for listening to 14
by India Huff