Benign
You smiled to greet him,
“I know you”.
All you remembered was how good it felt when you uncapped the lid. What was the dosage? You imagined it would feel better this time. He spoke too quickly though. And too soon your vision became blurry. You weren’t sure where the medicine cabinet was so you stood still amidst the chaos.
Was he suffocating you? With his words?
“With his teeth.”
“It’s situated within your cerebral cortex.” You were
11–his home then.
But the tumor spoke to you in words only you could hear now. In pain that even you could not comprehend.
They prefer to pretend your tumor doesn’t exist so sometimes you play along. With arrogance Lucifer surmised
“You’re afraid?”
You were only afraid of the still. The dark.
“It hurts to hurt and be this alone you know?”
The feigned words slipped between your teeth as quickly as he slipped out of the door. There was no one. But there were always traces on the floors. On the ceiling it clung until you thought you couldn’t take it any longer. The traces linger and only leave moments before you think you’re beginning to die. To die?
“Its situated within your cerebral cortex.” Your home
Its living room. Guests give you anxiety don’t they? Lucifer was a guest. In your home. In your living room.
Wasn’t he?
Iman Williams is Ethiopian by way of Baltimore Maryland and is currently pursuing her B.A. in Comparative Literature at Emory University. She is also the Founding Editor of a literary journal, Subjugated Knowledge. When she is not reading or writing, Iman spends much of her time cuddling with her grandparents.
