I know the name of this demon

 Not my best writing, but still would like to share it.  Needs to be seriously reviewed.

I know the name of this demon; she tucks me in at night.  She sits with me at breakfast, and watches me brush my teeth.  Last week, when I did that thing that ended up all over the papers, she looked at me wordlessly, but with a smile on her lips, approvingly.  I hate her; she gives me strength, and direction, but I hate her.

 I’m afraid to call her name out loud.

 This morning, I went to work again.  I adjusted my tie, and smiled at myself in the mirror.  I never thought that I would work again, not after... that, but there I was, clean and ready to step out, ready to step in.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  Office work bores me, the repetition, the distinctly insincere social relationships and absolutely sincere backstabbing.  But I went out, and got myself back into society’s mainstream once more.  Legit.

Carnival is over. It is Ash Wednesday today.  The churches will soon be filled with repentants and hypocrites. Should I enter a church, my heart would probably stop under the burden of grace.  I know God exists, I understand Him, but it is easy to shuck Him aside in my daily life.  In His house, though, I would surely die.  I don’t want His absolution, His mercy, His grace – she, the demon, has convinced me that her master is much more to be feared than God.  I’ve felt some things, been places where I saw that that was true.

 I am not a hypocrite, like those guilty revellers, paint still under their fingernails, mas’ still flitting behind their eyes, soca still pounding in their heads.  I face myself everyday knowing what I am.  Not proud, but truthful.  There’s no reason for me to lie.  I am what I am.

______________________________

 The girl’s name was Melanie.  I met her one night at that nightclub… 51º I think is its name.  There’s usually a cool crowd up there, young professionals sipping their drinks and laughing at whatever. I didn’t go there with the intention of picking up anyone.  The girls who visit the club aren’t usually alone, but that night, Melanie was like pollen to my bee.

 As soon as she walked in, I felt a weird tightening around my head, like my guilt usually felt after I did…things, but different, lighter.  I looked around for my demon, but she was in a corner, staring at the floor. I glanced back at Melanie, whose name I did not yet know, and followed her with my eyes, without moving my head.  I thought at first that she was here to meet someone, and when she sat at the bar by herself, I thought that she was early and her companion or companions had not yet arrived.

 As the night wore on, she remained alone.  I felt compelled to approach her and had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from getting up.  I knew what usually happened when I got in any way close to anyone, to any woman.

 That night was Comedy Night at the club, and I watched her as she laughed. She was curiously compelling.  I fought the stirrings of arousal every time she threw back her head and laughed.  As she did, her nipples moved against her blouse.  The feeling of tightness around my head increased, until I saw double, and my hands shook.

 Even when I shut my eyes, I could see her, saw my hands on her breasts, her arms, her neck….

 It’s dangerous for me to think about necks.  Necks open and vulnerable, soft under my strong fingers, pulse beating against my skin, racing at first, then slowly growing weaker as their power fed into me, into me, into me… feeding my ever hungry demon.

 Not tonight, I screamed into my head.  Let it rest tonight, I pleaded.  The demon was suddenly before me, leering, drooling, in my face, under my skin…. I lurched up out of my chair, and stumbled out of the club.  Protests and questions followed me as I pushed against bodies in my path.  I stood halfway down the stairs and tried to catch my breath.  My demon was in my head, screaming, and I tried to keep the blood from bursting from behind my eyes.  If I gave in, if I let loose tonight, there would be no hope for me, the demon would have won unconditionally.  Any light already fading in me would disappear.

 I was afraid of the dark.  I needed that sliver of light to guide me.  So far gone was I already, I recognized that bit of hope hiding in me still.

 Voices broke into my madness.  A group of five had entered the stairway, coming up toward me.  They looked at me curiously as they passed.  I kept my head down and quickly went down to the street.  The fresh air helped a bit.  I leaned against the wall and tried to calm the enraged demon, left hungry by my failure to follow her instructions.

 I can’t remember how long I stood there against the wall.  People passed but no one approached me.  I knew I should go home and escape into the confines of sleep but my legs seemed locked into place. 

 My body jerked as a voice asked ‘Are u okay?’  The words meant nothing, but the sound of that voice was a delicate humming beneath my skin.  I looked up and into a concerned face.  There she was.

 ‘Are u okay?’ she repeated, looking at me closely.  I nodded, tried to speak, could not, nodded again.

 ‘You look like you’re having a heart attack.  I’m a doctor, do you need my help?’   She pressed a strong hand against my chest.  My demon screamed.  I jerked.

 ‘No,’ I managed to say, ‘I’m alright, just…. just a bit… just a little woozy…’  I stood up a little straighter. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you’. She smiled at me and I knew that, whatever happened, whatever madness consumed me, I would never hurt her.  I beat back my screaming demon and focussed. My heart was a hurricane.

 ‘ I guess I got a bit claustrophobic in the club. It happens sometimes, and other times I can sit in the wardrobe all day, no problem’.

 ‘ You did scare me a bit.  I saw when you left the club.  Was that when the claustrophobia began?’  I nodded.  I wanted her to touch me again, I wanted her to take me home with her and tell me that everything I ever experienced in life was in preparation for our union, that those horrors would consume me no more.  I wanted her to be my demon, kind and soft and forgiving… not my demon, my angel.

 But would she stay with me, would she see me enough to know that I was never alone, that my demon grew in my hair, my fingernails, was in my head, beating against my skull?  Could she last against my ever-stirring darkness, even as bright as she was? Would she even want me?

 ‘Well’, she began, and reached out a hand to touch me lightly on the shoulder – I jerked again, feeling fire where her fingers had rested, fire that spread, down my arm, throughout my body, all-consuming and lovely – ‘I hope the night gets better for you.  Where are your friends, still up in the club?’

 ‘No’, I managed, thinking of all the ways my night could get better, all scenarios involving her, ‘I came alone, don’t have much in the way of friends, actually’.  Understatement of the year.

 ‘Hmn…I would like to tell you how bad that must be, but I’m sort of the same’ she laughed, and my heart grew two sizes bigger at the sound.  I thought that I would really have a heart attack, then. Even her laugh was perfect.

 A van, a white Prado, pulled in just then, parking on the street just in front of us. I used that moment of distraction to gather some control.  My demon was silent now, except for the dull throb behind my eyes.  She was brooding.