1 The Life of Cain

My eyes darted open, huffing as the air around me seemed to thicken. Struggling to take in every breath, my heart raced. My right hand touched the sweat upon my brow, only to feel my palm reverberate against my cheek. It was yet another nightmare.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Deep breaths. My pulse slowed as the senses I did not know I had lost started returning: first to my fingertips, then my toes and gradually my whole body. I now realized I sank into a cloud-like but firm mattress as Egyptian cotton sheets graze across my skin. I moved to sit up, finally having the strength and the willpower to force all of my limbs to cooperate. My eyes began to adjust to the darkness that cloaked my room.

I looked out over my massive bed, toward the bare yet spacious chamber before me. It sends chills down my spine, both from the familiarity and the emptiness. This purgatory is notorious for playing tricks on my mind. It kept me in an everlasting loop of torture while I wake to yet another entrapped eternity. Sighing, I attempt to relieve my stressors as I push back the covers so my legs hang over the bedside.

It is dawn. Even though my lock-tight system prevents the rays from entering, I know first light all too well. Even though the earth has changed, constantly shifting and creating new life, and technology has evolved to do the unimaginable, the sun gracing humanity with its presence remains the same. It is the only friend who I wholeheartedly relied on the past six thousand years.

Shifting, I rolled off the bed, ungraciously, feeling the cool tile beneath my feet. I walk toward the door before me as it opens automatically upon my presence. Before me is the master bath, a brilliant jacuzzi with a sauna room to its right, and behind it an intricate glass chamber that houses the shower. The light grey marble mimics the decor of the home: simple yet elegant. As I reach the sink, I let my hands dance upon the cool countertops as I turn on the faucet, which promptly splashed my face with water. Wake up, it seemed to yell at me as I still struggle to accept reality. Yet, after six thousand years, this routine seemed mundane.

I glance up to the 120" smart mirror that's mounted before me. "Good morning, brother," is displayed across the screen, "How can I be of service today?" Since I do not respond, the words disappear, returning to a dark screen. Now I am faced with my present-day horror…my reflection. My dark brown hair almost appears black while the fades on my sides are barely visible. My fitting mustache and light stubble beard made me feel younger than I truly am, for this was the current fad. Yet, my eyes brightened over the years to a light blue, yet in my reflection they shine like pale grey. The more I looked at myself, the less I saw the brown eyed boy: confused and anxious during his childhood. My brother's blood upon my hands, splattered like a famous painting, became clouded…just like the end of my lineage. Yet, the loss and loneliness did not subside, and the sins of this world never stopped. They never will.

I grabbed a towel, drying my face as I combed back my hair and walked out of the bathroom. When I reached my bedroom, I take a sharp left as the door to the hallway slides open. My feet echo throughout my home, as the silence welcomes me to my living room and kitchen, surrounded by paintings of the past. Reaching the cabinets, a tall wine glass removed and presented to me. Upon taking it, it reminds me of my life. Transparent, just as my initial motives that led to the dreadful act upon my brother.

"Good morning, brother," I heard, as a vile appeared out of my marble island. It was my home AI speaking, mainly because I did not acknowledge its presence the first time. I shouldn't have designed it to be so intuitive…. "I made sure your breakfast was room temperature, to your liking."

I take the vile, as the microwave opened to a bottle of blood. Taking it, I slowly pour it into my glass.

"Thanks, Abel." I said, mixing in the contents of the vile.

I drank, feeling the liquid pour down my throat. It sickened me. I wished to discard it…to not rely upon it to survive, but it was hard to not desire the succulent beverage. The first time I had yearned for such wickedness, I fed on my nieces, nephews…the great grandchildren of my siblings. Yet, my pleasures haunted me and further reminded me of my transgressions. I wept but I could not stop. It was only until the flood that things changed. The sorrow from the end of my generation haunted me, and I entered a forced forty days and nights of rehab. In that time, surviving in the depths of the ocean to evade the sunlight, I wished that God let me drown. However, HE wanted me to witness the sentence for sin and remind me of the atrocities that I had started. Now, I only drink from those who have died and whose blood was donated. In dire moments, just as after the flood, I fed on animals. Neither are the same as the days of my youth, but it sufficed.

The shutters on my windows rattled, as the sun peaks underneath them as they ascend into the sky. Inhaling and slowly exhaling, my body stiffens as the morning rays soak my body as I allow myself to relax. Warmth, that which I only get a glimpse each day, still urges me to rise to feel the sensation. After years of being confined to darkness, these new treatments have enabled me to experience a piece of life that I had forgotten. It made me feel human.

The shutters stop shaking as I am faced with the view of the oceanside. The waves lightly hit the shoreline and foam rolls as the seagulls call upon the heavens. I drink from my glass, my soul calming as Abel rings out to me that I have a visitor.

"Ah, yet another glorious sunrise," A voice trickled in my ear, as a man in his thirties wearing a black suit comes towards me.

His hair is a dirty blonde and is neatly combed, his face clean shaven, and his eyes a green hue of the forest. Yet, his clerical collar seems awfully bright upon the daylight.

"Yes, Father," I said, not needing to look back to know who he was.

Father Thomas, a priest of the Church of Our Father, has been a part of a long family history of aiding me through my trials. His parish supplies my blood, the elixir called "night and day" which enabled me to enjoy the sunlight and avoid suspicion, provide shelter, and protection. These are things, being the only one of my kind, I thought I would never need.

Yet, after living through many wars and avoiding those who wished to capture, kill, and experiment upon me never made me question their safety net.