Crossroads #2

When he was eleven Ameil died. Congenital heart failure ransacked his body. He heard the voice of his mother, “I love you,” but it wasn’t enough — love was never enough to save his life. Ameil’s body was artificially frozen and stored. The science of Cryogenics reached a pinnacle. The barriers of twentieth century science were cleaved like a mountain bisected by an iceberg. Ameil’s parents granted permission. They were paid to allow Ameil’s body to be frozen for ten years (the longest experiment ever attempted using the new technology). After ten years, the boy was thawed-out and given a new heart — he survived. Science saved him, not love; but when Ameil awoke he was no longer an ordinary ten-year-old boy even though he hadn’t aged. There were other consequences resulting from his long internment in the ice. His brain was affected. Ameil remembered his ordeal as if he was awake. He experienced every frozen, isolated moment. It was more than enough to drive anyone to insanity, but Ameil was stoic even as a boy. He survived. He became an adult overnight, no longer interested in play of any sort. He became obsessed with staying alive, obsessed with science. As he grew older, fissures began to appear in the armor of his identity. Basic human needs surfaced like serpents from the coldest depths of the ocean. He remembered his mother’s long dead voice claiming, “I love you.” His studies kept him subdued during the day, but at night he roamed the streets looking for sex. In college, he fell in love with a girl who seemed familiar and comfortable. She used words like love as easily as using lip gloss; then she plunged a knife in his heart when she fucked his college roommate and only friend. It felt like death and the fissures in his armor became more extreme. Ameil hunted at night. He tried to overcome his feelings of helplessness and loss by finding people to use for sex. He was inflamed, melting in the heat of mindless passion. It didn’t matter who he fucked as long as he attained an orgasm. One night, at his lowest ebb, he raped a girl. He tried not to hurt her, but rape is never gentle. She struggled and then went completely limp. Afterwards, her eyes appeared blank like windowless panes. He left her in the lobby of an emergency room and prayed he’d never be identified. Ameil couldn’t repair the damage — he was broken. He rationalized his behavior and cauterized his emotions by delving deeper into his scientific pursuits; but he couldn’t stop the nightmares that pierced his brain like shards of black ice. He knew his enemy was death, the long frozen death that pursued him like a demented lover. (to be continued)

Naked Orgy

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