Hunger

That had to be the longest elevator ride ever. Every horror movie I'd ever seen replayed itself in my–I kept waiting for something to come crashing through the ceiling and kill me.

The second those elevator doors were open I was sprinting through them and out the front. Just as I get to my car, I see this little black girl with her hair in pigtails standing next to the driver's-side door. The window's broken; she's got glass all around her feet. She's lighting a Molotov cocktail as I arrive, smiling as sweet as you please. But when she turns to me, the voice that comes out of her mouth isn't a little girl's, it's his!

"Hey, Chaar-lay, you've got a brand-new car waiting for you, so I guess you won't be needing this one!" She chucks the Molotov through the window and the whole thing goes up!

She jumps up and down, clapping her hands and shrieking like her daddy just gave her a pony. Meanwhile, I'm stuck like stupid again, standing there watching my Trans-Am burn.

The little girl gives me that same smile as Maurice's. In his voice, she says, "Hey, Chaar-lay, everybody serves. I don't make anyone do anything they don't want to do; everyone has a choice about who they serve. All I do is kill that little voice inside that tries to stop them from being who they want to be. In return, they choose Me. This little girl here? See how happy she is? If it weren't for Me, she'd be home right now, underneath her sick, child-molesting daddy, praying to My Father like she does every single night–and He’s never answered her. But I did, and look at her–she's never been happier! And when she gets home, guess where her next Molotov is headed?"

I hear the little girl's laughter over Maurice's voice; the sweetest, most innocent and happy sound I'd ever heard.

"Your sweetheart is still alive up here; all you have to do is come on back up and lay her throat open for Me. You're standing at the Door of Joy; don't you want to be happy?"

Michael, I was so scared I almost did what he asked. But then I thought about Felecia. Even though I knew he would kill her if I didn't, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I know that don't excuse nothing, but I couldn't kill her.

Maurice must've sensed my decision, or seen through the little girl's eyes that I was looking for somewhere to run, because she starts pouting.

"Hey, Chaar-lay, don't you know how many unhappy, hungry children there are in the world? I want everyone to be happy! They serve Me because I make them happy."


While I'm trying to make sense of this last statement, I catch this scuffing sound behind me; but before I can turn around there's this sudden, sharp pain in my leg. I turn around and this dirty little kid is there. He’s snuck up behind me and jabbed a switchblade into my thigh. He starts laughing like he's got a fistful of candy, and I backhand the shit out of that little fucker.


From down the street I see a whole herd of kids heading my way. Most of them are on bicycles, all of them have rocks and all kinds of sharp, pointy things, and every one of them have Maurice's smile. I did the only thing I could do, man: I hauled ass!


The rocks started flying–a bunch of them found their mark. One of them gashed the back of my head real decent–I still got that scar, too.


I ran with no idea which way I was going. Every kid in the neighborhood seemed to be out, and whenever one of the little pricks saw me, they'd call out in his voice, "Hey, Chaar-lay, everybody serves!"


I stopped to catch my breath and found myself in front of a display window filled with televisions. They were all showing that scene from Passion of the Christ where they're beating the shit out of Jesus with whips and shit. The Centurion with the whip stops beating Jesus to stare at me. He holds out the whip, like I can just reach into the screen and take it from him.


In Maurice's voice he says, "Hey, Chaar-lay, this could be you."


All I can do is stare at these screens, looking at a hundred Jesuses with His bloody crown of thorns, His back whipped to ragged shreds. This Centurion is offering me a whip to beat Christ! What kind of power is that?


A hundred Jesuses look back at me, eyes filled with pain. His eyes say It's your choice, Charlie, Whose side are you on?


Seeing that pain in His eyes, it made me think of what Felecia was going through, the pain she was in. I realized that if I reached for that whip, I was lost. Even if the Devil won Armageddon, I'd still be lost. Because if I went back to that penthouse and killed Felecia, nothing the Devil gave me would be able to fill the hole her death would have torn into my heart.


When I don't take the whip, the Centurion shrugs and turns back to Jesus, only it isn't Jesus anymore: it's Felecia lying there, back torn open from the whip, thorny crown ripping into her scalp, bloody tears streaming down her face. The Centurion starts laying into her like there's no tomorrow, his arm a blur of bloody motion. Felecia screams my name, begging me to help her. The whole time, the Centurion is talking in Maurice's voice, as calm as if he was commenting on the weather.


"Hey, Chaar-lay, only you can stop this. I can't make you kill her, but I can make her suffer if you don't."


My heart breaks seeing this shit and knowing that the only way to make it stop is to kill the girl I love. I couldn't take it, I just ran. I ran and I ran; and, somehow, I knew Felecia knew I'd abandoned her again.


Eventually, I ended up outside a roadside diner. I went in and ordered a burger. That might sound strange, but the fact is, man, I needed something to assure me I hadn't lost my fucking mind. Something real and solid, like a big greasy cheeseburger with onions and too much bacon. So that's exactly what I ordered. Looking back, that probably shows you how far gone I really was.


The waitress sets this big, beautiful burger in front of me. I was so happy to see it I almost wept. As I reach for the burger, she stabs a big freaking knife into it; not just any knife, the same fucking knife I tried to kill Maurice with!


"Hey, Chaar-lay," she says in his voice, smiling sweetly, "There's hope for you still. I get it, it's a lot to take in all at once, and maybe asking you to kill your bitch was a bit much. I understand; I'm nothing if not reasonable, so I tell you what: take this knife, pick anyone in this dive, and slit their throat. Do that, and you're in. No harm, no foul. What do you say?"


I can't believe it. Nobody is reacting to what's coming out of this bitch's mouth. Even if they can't hear Maurice's voice, there's no way they can miss the huge fucking knife sticking out of my burger. But nobody is even glancing in our direction.


"Hey, Chaar-lay, this is your last chance. Do this and all is forgiven. I'll even spare your pretty girl." The sweet smile vanishes. "Deny Me, and they're going to write Scripture about what I do to her."


I snap. I grab the waitress and start screaming in her face. I tell Maurice to go fuck himself, that I'm never going to kill Felecia. I grab the knife and stab the waitress. She screams, but not in Maurice's voice: in Felicia's.


That sound broke me, man. I dropped the knife and ran into the night. I'm pretty sure I was screaming.


I don't know how long I was out there. It was the sound of breaking glass that brought me back to my senses. It was a hollow sound, you know? Pop! Pop! I look up and there's this old hobo ahead of me straddling the corner street sign. He's humming to himself, reaching into this satchel he's got in his lap, pulling out lightbulbs and tossing them into the street. Pop! Pop!


He sees me and smiles real wide. And out of his mouth comes Maurice's voice:


"Hey, Chaar-lay, it's a long way home!"


Pop! Pop! He keeps humming, keeps tossing lightbulbs into the street as I hurry past as fast as I can.



To be continued...