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“What? What happened?”
In this moment I felt pure disgust staring at her naked body. Doing as she begged me to yesterday, I used her body to help block out and try to help aid in a night of good sleep. Her sex didn’t do anything, nor her purpose of being here. The more I stared at her the angrier I got.
“Did you hear me talking in my sleep?”
Wiping the crust out her eyes, she nodded. “Yeah, and you were shaking too.” She yawned, mouth wide open, and I stepped back to avoid getting knocked in the face by her gruesome morning breath. “Sweating and all that. Just a weird experience. I thought maybe you were having a bad reaction to the liquor from last night.” She can’t be that dumb. She can’t be that delusional to admit that she knowingly let me struggle even when she thought it was an allergic reaction. Ain’t no way her brain cells are that dull.
I guess it’s fuck me. Fuck if I die. She was going to lay next to me regardless.
Fucking useless.
Counting backwards from ten, I needed to get her out of my sight. Fists gripped tight, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out I need you to be gone.”
“What… why, Damien?” For the first time, I flinched hearing her call me that. Since I started my life as an adult entertainer, that’s been my alter ego. Never had a problem answering to it… until now.
“Leave.”
“Are you really upset that I didn’t do anything when I heard you talking in your sleep? You’re kicking me out over a fucking dream? Grow the fuck up. It’s not that seri… ahhh!” She jumped back, head hitting the headboard trying to run from me.
Brown pools of terror infuriated me. She thought my anger had to do with a dream. She thought I needed to grow up. My anger had nothing to do with those things. It had everything to do with what she didn’t do.
Yes, it was insanely impossible for me to think that she knew what I was dealing with, but she laid right next to me and let me suffer when all she had to do was wake me up. Selfish. Candice ass was fucking selfish. She came over to get what she wanted - dick and evidence to share with her following that she laid next to me. I got a reality check about the fucking company I keep.
Blowing this whole fucking shit show out of proportion and exaggerating. All of it could kiss my ass starting with her.
As calmly as I could, I asked her to leave for the last time. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house. Don’t question me, don’t say another fucking word. I want you to leave. Do you understand me?” I could only imagine the morph of insanity on my face that made her tremble with fear and eyes cloud with tears.
“Yes.” She whispered, keeping her eyes on me while gathering her clothes and getting dressed faster than it took her to take them off. “Can we…” Two steps her way and her mouth shut and feet moved towards my front door and out.
Before my mother could call me back, I made my way to the bathroom to get ready.
With the amount of sex, alcohol, drugs, and weed I smoked yesterday, there was no way I should be sober or functional right now. Managing to shower, dress, and grab a damn apple before leaving my house. All with no signs of my inebriation a few hours ago shows the demonic power that once held me captive but the power of God’s mercy.
Mount Evergreen saw my face at least three to four Sundays a month, unless I was out of town. Part of my attendance had to do with my mom. She barely asked much of me these days. Her main request was that I sit in one of the pews at church and come to Sunday dinner. For her, I came. Put my pride aside and sat through one of Bishop Cambridge’s sermons that condemned everything about the lifestyle I lived.
This Sunday wasn’t any different. The parking lot was full. Greeting committee welcomed me inside with inviting smiles. Tunnel vision on my destination ahead. Avoiding eye contact with the women who, unsurprisingly, were all too familiar with the curve of my dick. A quick three second pause at the main entrance doors before walking towards the side steps up to the balcony where most of the famous people sat out of respect for Bishop. Nothing felt more awkward than sitting front pew with a punch of eyes on you, ignoring the sermon, and trying to sneak pictures.
Annoying and disrespectful.
Taking my usual corner seat with a straight view of the pulpit, I sat back, and it finally felt like I could breathe. My burdens of what I saw sleeping were no more. This was the other part of the reason I made it a habit to come. In these church walls, the things that burdened me were of no existence. It’s here where I felt empowered as a man. However, by the same token, I often wondered if I was making a mockery out of God.
Only coming to him when I felt weak and needed to wash myself free of all my past sins to start a new week collecting fresh ones. I was raised in the church. Believed in God like the next bible thumping saint. Was even baptized right here in the baptismal pool. None of that stopped me from drifting away like I have. So caught up in the fast life. Money and women. Power and greed.
“Life was never meant to be easy. It’s filled with adversity, trials, and tribulations. Filled with fighting for your sanity and discouragement.” Pacing back and forth, Bishop tugged on his beard looking down at the floor. “I never wanted this life. Life of accountability. Life of a shepherd. Back in the day, I was king of the streets.” In some capacity he still is, but I’ll let him be great. “I reigned supreme. I loved what I did until it turned on me and tried to kill me. I wanted God to love me in the streets. I prayed always. Prayed for God to protect me and my brothers. Protect my wife and kids. Protect me while I’m handling business.”
Shifting in my seat, his testimony triggered my conviction, making me uncomfortable. Daily I made those same prayer declarations he did. To hear him admit that he was once in my shoes gave me an awareness that I wasn’t alone.
“In gun fights. Street wars. Doctors telling Aziza that it’s a miracle I made it. Got me questioning why. Why save me, God? Why continue to spare my life? What purpose can you give me that I can’t give myself? I had the money. Had the diamonds. Had the houses and cars. Life was full of luxury. So, what benefit would I gain by leaving all of this behind to follow you? If I’m the leader of my castle out here in the streets, what makes you think I’m going to leave my throne to now be bound by rules?” He chuckled to himself, the congregation on their feet.
“The last time I was in a street war I was shot over twenty times. Bullets hit everything but my organs. My wife was on life support. My sons.” His voice became shaky. “My brother was pronounced dead. My only living sibling is dead. My wife expected to die. My sons…” Every time he spoke about his kids, emotions rocked him hard, making him unable to finish. “I’ve never shared this with anyone but God is pushing me too. Whomever this is for, I hope your heart is open to receive it.” At that moment Bishop lifted his head and his eyes looked until they landed on me.
“I’ve always been a stubborn goat. Prideful. Ego twice as big. Laying on that operation table, I coded twice. Twice. That second time God gave me an experience that forever changed my life. An out-of-body experience. He gave me a full 4D view of myself lying on that table. Took me to the room where my wife was. Took me to the cold room where they had declared my brother dead.” He paused, skipping over whatever happened to his sons. “Then God showed me this life unknown to me.
“My children were happy and thriving. My wife healed and was more beautiful than the day I met her just glowing in our love. My brother, breaking generational curses. Everyone connected to me was living with no fear of looking over their shoulders. There were no illegal businesses connected to my wealth. But then he showed me death and suffering. What would happen to my family if I continued to live the way I did. See, I thought the life I was living was my purpose. Ruling the streets. That ain’t a simple job. I took care of my community. I put money in men’s pockets. I paid for medical bills. How was what I was doing not being a good steward to God? He gave me a choice. Either leave that life behind me or give my life to him? If I didn’t, everyone around me would perish. Sounds crazy, right? Cause why would God allow others to suffer because of my stubbornness?
“Every one of you has a God-given purpose, and free will to decide to accept the call when you’ve been chosen. There are people connected to your obedience. Living in the world, I was leading people to hell and not towards righteousness. God had to break me down and show me that the enemy likes to play these tricks and mind games. Just because money is in your bank account doesn’t mean it came from God. See, the enemy likes to create these illusions that you’re better off without God because you’re not suffering like someone who is following God. Who said following God brings suffering? The enemy blinds, but God gives light. Them weapons form but they aren’t prospering. Who said believers are poor? Let me tell you something, God never intended for his children to be poor but rich because how else can you help another in need? Travel where he needs you to go to be a witness to someone else?”
Church went crazy. The band played music, and the atmosphere changed. My heart was pounding like crazy.
