CASSIEL WILLIAMS
Cassiel's breath fogged up the window of the taxi. It was barely morning, yet the street already stank of cold and brine.
He had worked late into the night, he could have easily crashed at his Kelvin's place, but the last time he went to see kelvin his fuck buddy, he was gagged when Kelvin asked him to leave at the middle of night because his boyfriend was visiting and they needed privacy to resolve some relationship issues.
Kelvin never mentioned he was in a relationship until that particular night, and like a piece of used rag, he was thrown out in the cold, he battled signal issues and could not flag a taxi, so he had to walk all the way home and ever since, he swore he would rather swallow a packet of nail than visit kelvin even though a thousand apologies had been rendered.
He felt so much bitterness brewing inside him as the ride drew closer to what he would call a slaughter house instead of a home.
The radio buzzed quietly with old highlife music, but it did nothing to fill the silence between him and the driver. Cassiel leaned his forehead against the glass, watching the tall buildings flashed by, but the image of his friend's lifeless body wouldn't leave his mind.
Michael was so full of life and didn't deserve to die like that, He was everything cassiel dared to be, perhaps that's why he was killed, cassiel thought.
"Nothing beautiful survives here" Cassiel mumbled to himself
Cassiel remembered when sometime in january, the previous year, Sweet, soft-voiced Michael wore ankle bracelets and painted his nails with pink nail polish had come visiting, much to his mother's dismay, shortly after michael left, he got into an argument with his mum on Michael being a bad influence.
He also remembered Michael once kissed a boy behind the church during Sunday school; it was the drummer boy, he remembered how excited he was when he was telling him about it.
In a way he was jealous that Michael had all these experiences while he grasped at straws hoping for a drop of affection from another man to find him.
Michael was so full of life, too good, kind, too bitchy to have ben killed that way and tossed in a ditch like a dead dog, blood still wet around his ears. Cassiel hadn't even had the strength to cry. His tears had run dry long ago.
As the car passed the corner of Bishop Street, a man stepped out of a local bar and shouted, "You're next, pretty boy! Keep walking like a girl and you'll meet the same end as your fucking friend, faggot!."
On a good day, that fool would have lost some teeth because as feminine as cassiel was, he had a tiny bit of self defense inside him, but he ignored.
All through the rest of the right he tried to ignore the voice of the retard from replaying in my head, It was said like a curse. A prophecy. A warning that felt too close to the truth.
Cassiel looked away, lips tight. He didn't have the strength to fight, he just wanted a good sleep and some dick but that was far from happening since he was no longer cool with kelvin. He simply placed his headphones in his ears, though no music was playing. Just a quiet barrier between him and the world around him.
He thought of his body; thin, soft-featured, shoulders narrow like a girl's. He thought of his walk, the slight sway he'd tried to correct for years. He thought of how even as a child, he was told to stand "like a boy," to speak "like a boy," to act "like a boy." But no matter how he tried, he was always… this. Feminine. And every day, this had brought him nothing but pain.
Or should he be like the biblical replica of Job, but this time he would curse God and die?
Or he will become a bad bitch and weather the storm, it was only a matter of time.
Sometimes he wondered if his soul had made a mistake, choosing this body, this place. Maybe in another country, in another life, he could be free. But here? Here he was a target. A walking sin.
All these questions and chaos simply because Michael died.
"It will never be well with your killers" Cassiel whispered under his breath.
The driver stopped in front of the compound and turned of his car. Cassiel stepped out quietly, clutching his small bag. The bag could only contain so little. There wasn't much to put in the bag.
His mother met him at the gate with tired eyes and arms folded across her chest. Her face was lined with worry, and she didn't greet him with a smile like she normally would.
"Cassiel," she said softly. "It's happened again. Another one of them boys."
He didn't need to ask who.
"Who?" he asked anyway.
"Darion," she said. "The one who used to wear lipstick to school sometimes. They found him this morning. Beaten to death near the railway."
Cassiel's stomach dropped. Darion had been loud, unapologetic. He wore pink scarves and fake lashes and once stood up to a teacher who'd mocked him for being "girly." Cassiel had admired him for that. But death? Michael, Now darion? Who's next? Him?
Cassiel clenched his fists, holding back the scream rising in his throat.
"And as if that's not enough," his mother went on, shaking her head, "I heard today that Richard is getting married."
Richard was a street bully, bullied Cassiel a few times in public, but fucked him to stupor behind close doors. A few times they had met in the basement of Richard's family house where he bent cassiel over and fucked him, without lubricant sometimes.
Cassiel blinked. "Richard?"
She nodded. "Yes, the one from your school. The one who—"
"—used to beat me up every Tuesday like it was a part-time job," Cassiel said bitterly.
"He has decided to be responsible" His mother sighed. "Well, he's marrying some girl from his church. They say she's pregnant."
Something twisted in Cassiel's chest. Heart break. He should've felt nothing. He should've moved past it all by now. But instead, he felt something cold and perhaps, the sharp fangs of jealousy claw at his aching heart.
He should have just stayed at work.
Apart from the fact that they fucked regularly, Cassiel wondered How could someone like Richard, who spent years making his life a nightmare, be rewarded with love, family, and celebration? And here he was; alone, horny, and always on edge. He felt disgusting for even feeling it. They even fucked a few days ago and now he is getting married?
"I must be sick in the head," he muttered.
His mum didn't reply. She simply looked at him with tired eyes.
"Being queer here," he muffled under his breath, voice quieter now, "it's like being cursed. There's never anyone to love you. And even if you meet someone… they're either hiding or afraid. Or they die."
His mother touched his shoulder. "All I want is for you to live, Cassiel and be the man you are meant to be around here..."
"I will try," he said.
As he stepped into the house, his phone vibrated. He checked it.
Subject: University of London Application Result.
He opened it quickly.
Congratulations, Cassiel Williams. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the University of London for a Master's degree in Creative Writing and Literary Studies…
He read it three times. Then again.
His heart stopped, started, and started again. He'd made it.
He didn't say a word.
Instead, he turned to his mother and hugged her. Tightly. Like if he let go, he might float away.
She was startled, then wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.
"My son," she whispered. "You're scared, I know. Every day I pray, and I wish I could do more to protect you. But you have to be strong. You have to be stronger than them if you want to live like this… you and your twin sister are all I have got."
Cassiel didn't know how to answer, if only she knew that he did not give a fuck about what anybody had to say and that his long awaited dream to leave the south would manifest soon. He just held on.
After a long silence, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Your father will be back soon," she said. "And you know how he is. You need to remove the makeup kits and those… those dresses from your wardrobe. He mustn't see them."
"No, they are mine Mother" Cassiel said immediately.
"Cassiel, give those things to Cassie, you cant be dragging make up kits and wearing dresses with your sister!!"
"I said no. They're mine."
"Your father will hit you, if he returns from the plantation and you know how he gets, I dont want that for you"
"Let him do his worst, it's not the first time he doing it after all, I am never discarding my clothes or my make up! I dont wear them out of the house so why should keeping it be an issue."
"You're being stubborn."
"I'm being myself, I am tired of having to hide bits and parts of myself to please that man, he does not like me and the feeling is mutual, stop expecting me to cut bits and parts of myself to entertain him."
She stared at him. "Is that worth your life?"
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I'd rather be dead than live like I'm hiding under my own skin in this house."
She raised her voice now, desperate. "Don't talk like that!"
"Then don't ask me to erase myself."
Their voices rose. And it was beginning to echo around the house.
"Can you both wrap it up already and stop yelling? I am trying to get some sleep" cassie said, in her night dress, her hair wrapped into a doughnut.
"Get mother to stop going through my things" Cassiel grabbed his bag and stormed out.
"Mother, I have told you to stop going through his things, can you just give him space please?" He heard his sister, cassie yell as he made his way to God knows wherever.