Breakdown - 14. 13 Cam

Cam lay on the bed in the brown room in Aziel’s apartment, afraid to open his eyes. He was lying spread eagle, his hands flat against the large mattress. He knew where he was, vaguely, but he couldn’t place how he’d come to be here. He could feel the smoothness of sheets around his body, the coarser, heavier blanket that was on top, and the heaviness of the air that was pressing in on him like he was at the bottom of the ocean.

Despite the heat of the air, Cam felt cold. Horribly cold. His heart was beating fitfully, struggling not to shatter. His bones were shards of ice, and his muscles were shivering uncontrollably.

What made matters worse is that Cam could feel Aziel’s gaze on him, steady and even as he drank thoughtfully from his glass tumbler. Cam knew that if he opened his eyes, he was going to have to face the demon that had taken hold of him. He was going to have to face him, and he was going to have to own up to the fact that he was in a dire situation where the demon’s claws were silver needles…

Shut up, shut up…

The heavy feeling of the hot, pressing ocean washed over him again, and Cam felt his muscles twitch. One arm flung in front of him, over his chest, almost of its own accord, desperately trying to keep the weight off of him. When his arm failed in that task, it oozed off his chest and flopped back against the bed, palm down. Cam’s lips were parted as he panted for breath.

He could have been like that for days, hours, or seconds. The spinning, flying sensation of his sickening high whirled around Cam’s brain until he was dizzy. When the crash came, Cam almost didn’t know what to make of it.

He woke with a headache and a burn in his stomach, but nothing more. The demon was not watching him and his chair was empty. The blue roll and the blue bag were absent. Aziel had crept out during Cam’s high, leaving him alone in the spacious, beautiful apartment in the good part of town.

Cam licked his dry lips and looked around. The world seemed to shimmer in the wake of his high, like his eyes couldn’t process the images fast enough, so they overlapped and bled into each other. Experimentally, Cam turned his head. He found that movement smooth and easy, and his eyes took in a wavering glass with clear water inside. The shimmer around the glass made it look like it was glowing.

Look, it’s the fucking Holy Grail.

Cam laughed painfully at that, his ribs feeling like they were broken into about a million pieces. He put a hand to his heart, as if to affirm that his chest really wasn’t a great spongy mass of broken bones, and was relieved to find that it hard against his palm. Gingerly, Cam pulled himself up onto his elbows and reached out for the shimmering glass of water.

It was heavy. Cold.

It was the best damn thing Cam had ever tasted.

His hand shook as he drank, but it was steady enough for him to manage. The water was a lance of relief through his burning, shattered insides. He drained the glass dry and still wanted more.

Naked, Cam forced himself to stand. Each step took more effort than the last. When he finally felt the cold tile of the floor under his feet, Cam nearly collapsed into one of the chairs in the kitchen. It was cold against his naked rear.

Cam’s forehead sunk down and hit the counter. He shivered, the first of many tears springing to his eyes. His shoulders shook violently and he couldn’t find the energy to pull himself back up and quest for more water.

He could have died there, for all he cared.

What does it matter? Cam thought. I’m going to die, Aziel’s going to kill me. This is some kind of fucked up game, and he’s not going to let me win. He wants to push me, see how much I can take before I fold. No matter what I endure, what I accomplish, it’s going to get worse…

Cam sniffed, tears on his cheek and snot on his upper lip. For now, he did care. He needed another glass of fucking water.

A little more steady now, the shakes seeming to have come out with his tears, Cam moved to the fridge and took out the jug of water. The fridge was just as sparse as the rest of the house; there was half a loaf of some bizarre, heavy bread that Cam had never heard of, eggs, margarine (Becel, Cam wasn’t sure why he found that funny), and a 2-litre bottle of Pepsi.

Cam poured some water into one of the low, fat glasses that Aziel had been using for their drinks the night before. Quietly, he put the water jug back. It was while he was drinking his water and staring off into space that he noticed the note tacked to the fridge under a black, round magnet.

Moving forward, Cam inspected the note, the glass still raised to his lips.

Cam,

Congratulations for your accomplishment, I am leaving you the keys to this apartment. I no longer have use for it, and the decrepit place that you currently cower in is not acceptable.

Your belongings will be moved here today; I have sent a truck and four men to do the job.

The keys are hanging on the back of the front door.

--Aziel

Cam stepped backwards from the note, the glass of water still at his lips. He felt the cold edge of the counter press into his nude lower back. There was a moment of silence as he pondered the note and his ramifications. Did that mean that Aziel wouldn’t call anymore? He’d just show up?

He’d have a key to this place. Surely Aziel would keep one.

But what choice did Cam have? Aziel had already arranged for him to move in here. He swallowed the warm water that he had been holding in his mouth, forgotten while he looked at Aziel’s slanted handwriting. There was nothing in the world that Cam could do to get out of this one.

Except run away.

The thought caused a cry of laughter from Cam’s through. Run away? To where!? Aziel was sure to find him wherever he went.

As Cam drank more water, he started to feel a lot better. The hangover from this cocktail wasn’t as bad as the first one, but Cam instinctively knew that it had been worse for him. The way that you know, just know, that the blue Tupperware container that’s been sitting in your fridge for five months probably isn’t something you’d want to open in the house. More steadily, Cam went back to the brown bedroom and collected his clothes. He took them to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

The bathroom in this place was beautiful. It was all done with granite tiles in that slate-grey colour, with tope coloured walls and a large, open skylight for light. There was a long, low Jacuzzi bathtub in the corner, and a walk-in shower with glass walls. It was fully stocked with everything; there was a fresh toothbrush, fresh towels, fresh shampoo and conditioner. Cam stared at everything and then dropped his clothes into a pile in the middle of the floor. The bathmat was soft and spongy against his feet.

Cam didn’t remember the last time that he had had such a nice shower. He guessed that it would have been the last time that he had lived at home… and that had been a long time ago. While he stood under the hot, hard jet of water, Cam thought about his dingy little apartment. The black floor of his plastic shower and the showerhead that was too low for him, so he had to duck to get his hair wet. It all seemed pretty terrible when you compared it to what he was standing in now.

What was that saying? Life fast and hard, and leave behind a good-looking corpse?

Cam snorted a laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

Yeah, at this rate, he’d look just like Derek.

Cam’s day was occupied mostly with moving into the new apartment. It was at least twice the size of his last one. With no furniture to speak of, and really only his clothes as possessions, it was relatively quick and easy. The men that helped him move barely said anything at all; they just brought up boxes of stuff and heaped it in the middle of the floor.

When it was all boxed up and sitting in the middle of one room, Cam thought it looked like he had a lot of stuff.

Only one of the men spoke to Cam, and it was to say, “You’re certainly moving up in the world, ain’tcha?”

Cam looked at him, blinking a few times before laughter overtook him and he had to sit down. Up the social food chain, yep, that was certainly Cam. From low-class whore to high-class whore; he was like Pretty Woman with a man that was as crazy as he was dangerous.

It was difficult for Cam to admit exactly how deep he’d gotten himself. His entire world… his future… now depended on Aziel. But the question that was popping up with ever-increasing regularity in Cam’s head was:

What future?

Cam stood in the middle of the beautiful apartment that was now his and looked out the window. He had a few of some nice buildings to the south. There was a small balcony outside the master bedroom, and one guest room that had been converted into a sort of home gym. Cam was taking that as a fairly blatant hint that Aziel expected him to remain in shape; with no job during the day Cam was probably going to be happy for the distraction.

There were other surprises in the house too. The fridge had been mostly empty, but the pantry was full of dried and canned food stuffs. Cam dusted his fingertips across the labels of the tins, reading them softly to himself. The movers were finished now, leaving his apartment strangely quiet.

His apartment.

He couldn’t help but think that Aziel was there. Cam found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, and he wouldn’t have been surprised at all to have seen Aziel’s toned frame leaning against a doorframe or corner, watching him with his cold blue eyes.

Was he going crazy?

Cam sat in the low, sterile couch in his sparse living room. He looked down at his arm that bore a single red sting from where Aziel had jabbed him with the needle. There was minimal bruising around the site, and it was sore to the touch. What had he put into him? Was it addictive? Hadn’t Aziel said something about it being addictive?

Crave me…

Cam shivered, putting his hand over the bite of the needle so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He glanced back out his window and saw that the sky was darkening, and the city beneath him was sparkling with light.

It was beautiful.

He stood and leaned against the cool window, putting his cheek to it. His breath plumed up, white and frosty, against the windowpane. He watched it fade, billow, and fade.

“I’ll make it,” Cam said softly to the window. He squeezed his arm. “Whatever it is, I can do this. I’ll get my degree… and then I’ll quit. I’ll leave.”

Cam didn’t like how small his voice sounded when he said that.