Apology unaccepted

The loud cackling had been going on for exactly four hours and twenty-seven minutes. Locked in the rattling, metallic cage, every sound sounded loud and clear to Cedric’s ears. He wasn’t locked up; no. This was resistance training. Endurance, some said. But Cedric liked to call it ‘resistance’. To him, he was resisting the urge to cut himself to prevent the jarring, irritating voice from penetrating his bleeding ears. His ears were positively bleeding, thick red dripping down the side of his face in small, unnoticed streams.

Thirty-two minutes. He had just twenty-eight minutes to go. The day before, he’d thought he’d dealt the final card. That four hours and fifteen minutes had to be it. But today, aiming to hit the five-hour mark really seemed to be draining his body of energy. He peeked at his wrist from under his arms where he’d buried his face. Twenty-two more minutes. He wasn’t sure he was even conscious at this point. The feeling had long passed annoyed and irritated, bypassed even anger and frustration to surreal.

Hypnagogic. That was it. He remembered reading that word somewhere. It amazed him how his brain retained appreciable amounts of utterly useless information. It meant something along the lines of sleep-inducing. Sure, the noise was sleep-inducing. The long-term kind of sleep. The one from which you never woke up.

Seventeen minutes. Sometimes, at times like these, Cedric didn’t know why he did this. He didn’t know why the beast inside him stirred to prove a point. He didn’t tell anyone; it was done in secrecy. Surely, even in the world, he lived in, people wouldn’t think it acceptable to lock oneself up for hours and cause pain and harm to oneself. But oddly enough, Cedric liked it. The pain brought him a weird sense of satisfaction and gratification. He didn’t always listen to the noise; no. That would be ludicrous. And even irrelevant to a point. If he knew he could do it, there was no joy. No, some days, he hung upside down from the pull-up bar. Just hung there and meditated. Sometimes for hours on end if he could hold in the urge to urinate.

Twelve minutes. He thought about the one time he’d dunked his head underwater and held his breath for eight hundred and forty seconds. That one he’d been really proud of. Even considered telling Jonas. But in the end, he’d decided against it. For the simple fact that he knew no one would believe him. And even if they did, he would probably be shipped off to an asylum before he could protest.

Peering through the small window in the metal walls, more like a small opening for air, he noticed that the sky had darkened outside. No more specks of dust danced to the late afternoon sunlight. An ominous cold had settled over his cramped room, but he didn’t mind. He was closer to the five-hour mark than he’d thought possible.

Eight minutes. Cedric didn’t know that though. It was a fine line between day and night, really. He’d heard a lot of people say that the day bled into the night. Not according to him. It was painfully obvious that one moment there was enough light to see by and the next, there wasn’t. A fine line. But he’d started counting down the minutes. Six. Five. His mind again drifted to unconsciousness for a few moments. He forced himself to snap out of it. The metallic clanging didn’t even account for anything more than a dull, annoying throb at the back of his head anymore. The bleeding however was another story. It had developed from thin streams to sickening amounts with a nausea-inducing stench. He’d always hated the smell of blood, but controversially the sight of it kept him going.

Two minutes. He wiped a hand down the side of his face. When he pulled it away, there was an awful, squelching sound and his hand was wet like he’d dipped it in a bucket of slimy red liquid. He laughed humorlessly, forcing himself to keep the barf down. Almost done now.

Tired, his body passing out from the fatigue and fighting to keep his eyes open, he counted down the last minute out loud. At twenty-seven seconds, he heard the doorbell ring. Must be Jonas. He couldn’t open the door now, though. Twenty-two seconds. Twenty-one. Jonas was his only real friend. Or maybe he stuck around because he was his elder brother and considered Cedric his responsibility. Either way, the only time Cedric remotely enjoyed himself doing what people considered ‘societally normal’ was when he was with Jonas. Now he felt bad making him wait.

Five, four, three, two, one …he sat up with such a sudden jerk; his head clanged against the top of the cage. Rubbing it, he laughed and crawled out, flexing his cramped leg muscles. Instinctively, he lay down on the hardwood floor and stretched out his body, enjoying the sound of the gushing wind outside. Something akin to euphoria pumped through his veins; he’d done it. Five hours. But the adrenaline rush was short-lived. The doorbell rang again, this time a long, persistent ring. He lay still on the floor and listened. Stopped, started again. Slowly, Cedric pulled himself off the floor. Groaning, he collapsed the metal trap and lugged it to his bed, pushing it out of sight under the rickety wooden framework.

He stood up again, called out an incoherent ‘I’m coming” to whoever was outside, and stumbled to the bathroom. Peering into the small mirror on the drug cabinet door, Cedric started wiping away the blood. Every now and again, he’d pause and sniff it, just to get himself used to its stench. With his mind still unstable, he ran his hands under the faucet, cupping water in his bloodied hands and bringing it to his mouth. The cold water felt good, sending a metallic taste of blood to the back of his throat. He laughed now, happily, as he went to the door.

“Jonas?” He didn’t know anyone else who would show up at his door at this time of the day. Matter of fact, Cedric didn’t know anyone except Jonas who showed up at his door ever, period. Tentatively, he opened the door, the latch still in place. Outside, three men in uniform gave him a once over, then barged in without another word.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Man is he out?”

“I swear I didn’t touch him, man. Honest to God and all that shit.”

“You think the freak pissed his pants or something? Reeks like the seventh level of hell in here.”

“You would know … dunno man, dunno. What do you suggest we do with him?”

“Ye know, if we walked out now … place seems a little shady … don’t think there are any cameras around.”

The voices seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, like an echo in a deserted cave. Cedric mustered enough strength to stare up at the three men from his spot on the floor. He started for a moment thinking of the clattering metal cage he’d locked himself up in. Had they seen that? Had they snooped around and found all his favorite pastimes? He shuddered at the thought but managed to keep his form still externally. The men continued to stare at him from different angles, one even going as far as shining a phone’s torch on his face. Visibly shaken, he grunted, squinting away from the torturously bright light.

“You okay man? Can you stand up?”

“Don’t … don’t think so. I feel sick.”

The men exchanged glances before one let out an audible sigh and lowered himself next to Cedric. He slipped an arm around his shoulders, roughly pulling him up into a sitting position. Leaning him against the base of the sofa, the man straightened up, turning to his mates.

For a few awkward minutes, they whispered amongst themselves, making Cedric feel like a stranger in his own house. They spared him an occasional glance, then went back to bickering in their deep, low voices. Cedric diligently tried to pick up the bits and pieces of their conversation that they failed to keep down but gave up when he felt a searing pain in his forehead. He leaned back, resting his head against the sofa, waiting for them to address him. They did.

“Ok man, listen up. So we are not with the Police dude. Ye think they would take in underdogs like us? Nope, long shot. We like dress up to get people like you to like open up. Cause you guys usually don’t, ye know?”

Cedric stared at him, confused and perturbed. Let alone the fact that his mind wasn’t letting him think straight; the man’s thick accent wasn’t helping. He wondered which part of the world you had to come from to speak that bad. Slowly, he brought his fingers in front of his face, trying his best to clear his vision.

“Who’s Jonas, by the way? Your boyfriend?” The comment earned a snicker from the other men but the guy who’d questioned him seemed dead serious. Cedric felt his pulse quickening, heart palpitations increasing. He’d had that question throw at him quite a few times, along with not so kind words now and again. But he wasn’t. That. He didn’t really have anything against them; just didn’t like being addressed as one.

“No … no. Jonas is my brother. He said he’d come by today.” That part was a lie. It was usually Cedric who asked Jonas if he could come over. Jonas had a life, unlike him. He had a wife and an adorable 4-year-old. Cedric, however, didn’t do relationships. He had great trouble maintaining the one he did have.

The man nodded distractedly and looked around the small apartment, at the ‘barely there’ furniture. He walked over to the pull-up bar, swinging himself upon it on his way to the bedroom. Suddenly alert, Cedric tried to shift his frame to get a better look at the man.

“Hey, if you’re not the Police, you can’t snoop around my house. You don’t have a permit or anything.”

The man nodded absently again, coming back into the living area. He gave his mates a long, knowing glance, then lowered himself next to Cedric.

“Went overboard today, did ye?” he asked, holding out a wad of blood-soaked tissues. He couldn’t deny now, could he? What would he say, “the blood is not mine”? So instead, Cedric stayed silent, averting his gaze to the cracked wooden floorboards. When the man didn’t get anything out of him, he stood up, frustrated, and gently kicked Cedric’s foot.

“Look man, we know your type. Really. We actually have a proposal for you. The crowd’s getting hungry.”

Cedric looked at him unsurely, mulling over what the man had said. Surely it meant a business proposal or like one of those shady proposals where he was asked to do whatever for a huge sum of money. Whatever it was, Cedric would refuse. He wouldn’t do it now, after having come so far. He shook his head, cutting the man mid-sentence.

“Whatever it is, find someone else to do it. I don’t want to get tied up in whatever shit it is you guys do. Seriously, leave. Now. Or I’m going to have to call the actual cops.”

“Man, what you going to say to them ‘bout the blood? That ye killed someone? Look, we ain’t asking you to do no shit. Like, you just gotta speak. To like, some people. Cause you’re a big shot now dude. That Jonas guy of yours outed you. Told the media and stuff. Guess he wanted shit to hit the fan so you’d stop living off his money. It worked, but the cops didn’t take him seriously, ye know. Should be grateful we intervened when we did, ye should. Saved

your sorry ass a hell lot of trouble.”

Cedric had stopped listening to him a long time ago. Nothing registered in his mind after what the man had said about Jonas. Was it really possible? His best friend, his elder brother, the guy who he’d always thought would look out for him? And how had he even known? Had Cedric really been that careless with his tasks?

He gave the man an empty stare, then stood up with new-found energy. He didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do, or how he would have to do it. But he was ready. He didn’t know for what, but he was.

“I’ll do it,” he said, offering the man a hand. One of the other men shook it firmly, nodding at him.

“Ye know what we are talking about, right? I mean … the stuff we expect ye to talk about?”

Cedric nodded blankly, staring past the man at the wall behind him. He thought of the time he’d done a headstand against it, holding it to the point his feet had gone translucent and his face burning from all the exertion. That had been one of his better-executed tasks. Yes, his face had remained red for a whole day after and he hadn’t been able to move from the spot, lightheaded and dizzy. But he’d been satisfied with it and that was all that mattered.

“Great. So we kind of want it to be spontaneous, ye know? Right from the heart and all that. The crowd really digs that, man. So like we’ll give you a day. You’d be going live Friday. Nighttime.” Cedric acknowledged the man with a quick jerk of his head, then started walking to his bedroom. Five minutes later, the three men were bidding farewell to the weirdest, yet greatest man they’d ever met. He didn’t know it yet, but ‘the crowd’ respected him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Come Friday night, Cedric stared at the sea of faces that had gathered in the stadium. He knew the cameras behind him were capturing the whole thing and it was somehow supposed to go live. Cedric didn’t really understand that part, but he’d been told the whole world would be watching. At least, those who cared about this stuff.

Strangely, he’d grown accustomed to the presence of the three men he’d had the honor of meeting that day. Though they tried to convince him it was the other way round, Cedric remained adamant. To know that more people like him existed around the world gave him hope. It made him feel less of a freak. Suddenly, getting out of the apartment for things apart from stocking up on groceries didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Again, Cedric was drawn to the absurdly large audience. Inwardly, he smiled, thinking of Jonas watching him, settled comfortably on his rich couch with his rich wife in their rich house. He wasn’t jealous, no. Had never been. Disappointment, however, had been a constant emotion he’d experienced the past day. Not hurt, not pain at being backstabbed. Just disappointment.

Slowly, the curtains rose, giving the hungry throng a clear view of the man they admired. Standing there, one thought continually resonated in Cedric’s head. After this day, he’d have to double his efforts.

Because penance for show wasn’t penancing at all.