CHAPTER SIX

"No," he kept calling out in his mind. Michael knew he was twisting and turning trying to remove the dark spirit that laid heavy upon him. Maybe if he kept it up Matthew would wake him out of this nightmare. He was conscious of this but he could not slip himself out of this plane of existence his spirit was in. The dark spirit's weight seemed to gain in matter. He felt his breath leaving as his thoughts became muffled.

Since he had moved to New York, there seemed to be some force that kept reaching out at night to pull him through into another plane of existence. Though they were lovers in Los Angeles, and just friends in New York, Matthew would spend intimate nights with Michael hoping to win him back before his other ex-lover, Lazarus would move to New York. Lately, Matthew had noticed that Michael always had a distant look, as if he was hearing a conversation that only he was only privileged to.

"Stop please," Michael cried out. Say a prayer he thought. "Our father who art in heaven," his mind went blank on the words. The pressure increased. He felt like his ribs were cracking. This entity seemed to be drinking his breath. I could die in my sleep he thought.

"I've come for you. You and I must be one again," it said as its voice was eating at Michael's thoughts.

The pressure on his rib caged continued until he felt like his spirit was being pushed out. "I can't remember any prayers."

"I am so dark without you."

"I don't know you. Leave me alone."

A cold hand seemed to pass over Michael as the bed began to shake. His body seemed immobilized as the spirit seemed to place more weight on him.

"I hate."

Who is this he wondered as he sensed his body crying out in pain.

Concentrate.

"You'll be with me forever."

"God, why can't you hear me? Why are you forsaking me? Why is he allowing this to happen? God doesn't love me. No one loves me! I can't breathe! I'm going to die. Not like this. Not in the darkness!"

"I hate," he heard the voice growl. A strong cool breeze ushered itself into the room. A church bell ranged in the distance.

There must be light Michael thought. That's the trick of it. On this level of being I am what I chose. But why do I know that? "I'm a child of the Light," he heard himself say.

He imagined his body becoming pure light. He imagined wings unfolding and embraced this dark presence and gold light radiated from his wings engulfing this dark spirit. It's resistance grew as did the gold light and he then imagined gold light shooting through his eyes and the dark spirit cried out and shook itself free of Michael's wings embracing him and fled immediately away from him. The breeze stopped immediately as well as the church bell.

The name of this wormlike entity passed through Michael, leaving his skin cold, and clammy – the Adversary.

"Are you okay," Matthew asked sleepily? "You were making strange guttural sounds again."

"I'm fine. I had a nightmare. Guess I shouldn't eat cold pizza before I go to bed. I will be okay, you can go back to sleep."

"I'm worried about you. Something is happening to you and you're not telling me. You get this strange look. Then, I don't even know who I am looking at sometimes. I wish you would talk to me. Whatever you are going through, we can go through this together. Is it Lazarus?"

"Please. He doesn't run my life okay. I do have a life of my own. Anyway, it's not about him. I'm just tired. Moving to New York I guess had more fears for me than I imagined."

"Maybe you should talk to Marie about some of this. Maybe she could help."

She helped open a doorway inside him he said to himself.

"Come lay in my arms for awhile. At least till you go back to sleep."

The room was dark. I hate a dark room Michael thought. I want to see what is in the room when I wake up. I can't even see Matthew's eyes. How do I know it is really him? How do I know anything anymore?

Matthew tried to cuddle with Michael but he turned from him and sighed restlessly.

"I will be fine. I'll be back to sleep in a minute. Sorry for waking you," said Michael.

"I'm here for you, you know that don't you."

Michael feigned for sleep. "Don't touch me," he prayed. "I don't know who will come through your hands this time. I tasted someone else on your lips. Even your eyes reflected his image. The dance of our bodies doesn't have a rhythm I can hum to. I feel the anger you wear as a patch on your heart. I'm not them, not even close, not even a facsimile of those who turn your head, hold your glance; steal your thoughts to make their own. Don't touch me so that I can climax against my will, cause I'm weak of heart, my will is cracking, my flesh is molded in your hands and tissue paper covers the wet spot, it's me, it's me, I'm a big tear, drying. I'm sharing too much feeling when I reached out to kiss your heart, touch your mind and turn the light on in your eyes to see our way out of this darkness we're locking ourselves in. I'm drying out of existence."

Michael continued laying there not moving, pushing his breathing away from his senses. Protect me someone. Protect me. Everything is cracking around me. Water is seeping through. I try to gather it but it dries on my fingers.

"Protect me," his mind whispered as he reached under his pillow and grabbed his crystal. For a moment, it did pulsate, yeah, maybe. He would have claimed he felt a gentle flow of energy passing through him. He held the crystal tight and it throbbed. He thought of a man's sex. Peace did not settle within him. He laid very still; very still hoping nothing would ever touch him again. He placed a psychic barrier around himself and chanted a few words to be sealed from human touch.

He felt Matthew turn toward him.

Matthew thought. "Should I touch him? He lays there so troubled. This has been the fourth nightmare this week. I should touch him." He felt a cold breeze still his thoughts. Every time I want to reach out to him, there is this emptiness, darkness, and a cold breath. He scares me. He truly scares me."

Another Matthew memory from when they were living together in Los Angeles after knowing each other for four weeks.

A tremor shook his body of existence which he attributed to "I must be coming down with the flu."

"Are you okay," Matthew said.

Was he really asleep? Weird dreams again.

"Michael, you want something?"

"Guess I'm too preoccupied with things."

"You seem preoccupied a lot lately."

"I'm tired."

"Is your back hurting?"

"Guess I think I'm carrying the weight of the world."

"Do you want me to rub it?"

"No, it's okay."

"I don't mind."

I mind Michael thought. "You'll want you know what and I'll give in, it's my duty, we are lovers." Why can't I be like I was when we first became lovers?"

"Turn on your stomach."

Maybe this will prove to him that I still love him. He still will not forgive me thought Matthew.

I want to feel his touch Michael responded to his thought unaware he had heard it.

He knows I've lied thought Matthew rummaging through their past together. I bring him flowers every week. He smiles, says thank you, but the smile is short-lived. Just like the flowers.

Michael looked at the rose that was on the bedroom table being crowned by the moonlight. Still as fresh as the day I received it. Guess it's an indicator of what my emotional state truly is. Maybe I'll weather the turbulence. But we both brought lies into this relationship. How can we plant a rose in a ground that's been defiled?

A sigh escaped Michael's body.

Well he's still human. There's some reason. Still haven't lost my touch. With patience, I'll break through his tough exterior. His fingers railed the small of his back. As his fingers began to massage deeper, another sigh escaped from Michael's lips.

It does help Michael said trying to say it but wanting to say it while afraid to say it because it would say something he should have said a long time ago. There's a part of me that you know Michael thought that has love but I can't give it openly and honestly yet. Why I ask myself? Your brain seems to operate on a delay switch. You're like a child being found with his pants down explaining doctor's orders. I seem to toss you away in social activities. Sound familiar. It's okay. I'm just a roommate so that changes my status in this relationship. Definitely puts the damper on feelings. Affects what position I lay in, pray that I not be ever so humble in your arms. You touch me at night, must be at night, fewer eyes to see me I guess. Between the sheets, it's low down bumping and thumping. The walls of my temple call out Father save me as I crumble in bits and pieces. What am I suppose to do, fall in love with a roommate? When have you ever acknowledged me or me you?

Michael prayed for his mind to shut down. He was now lying on his back. His body began to succumb to Matthew's advances. Michael fell into the kisses. Muffled sounds echoed through the room.

Michael replayed memories while his body did...

They were all laughing as they walked out of the French Market Place on Santa Monica Blvd. in Los Angeles. It was Michael, Matthew and Michael's friends, Tom, James, and Leon. They had all gathered for a late night snack after one of Michael's singing performances.

Everybody once again complimented Michael on his nightclub performance at the Gardenia.

"Guess we all should say good-night to the married couple," Leon said.

"We're not lovers," Matthew said emphatically. "We're only roommates."

Everyone stopped. Michael said nothing. Finally, someone mumbled they were tired; it was time to get home. No one commented on Matthew's remarks.

Michael sat silent on the way home staring straight ahead. He was screaming loudly inside and tearing things up.

He kept hearing, three times you will love someone and three times you will be denied publicly by them.