Page 59 of Cain
She mistakes my restraint for hesitation. She doesn’t realize that I am making this choice.
She doesn’t realize where my obsession with her can lead me. But that’s the beauty of it, right?
I sit in my chair and lean back, sinking into it, letting it envelop me, and exhale forcefully.
I can’t stop but think about what that piece of shit Torres mentioned.Hemade him do it?Who? No, it can’t be true. It’s easier to believeIam going crazy than to believe that he survived the explosion.
My eyes land on the Rubik’s Cube my mother gave me when I was just a boy. Its colors have faded. They are no longer as vivid as they once were. As a child, I loved the bright colors and couldn’t stop looking at them. I carried it everywhere, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Back then, its vibrant hues fascinated me. It’s natural, since children are drawn to bright things. But now, with time, the colors have faded, and somehow, they feel more fitting. They’re hollow and worn, as if they’ve lost something they’ll never get back. Just like me.
I still can’t solve that little bastard, no matter how many years it’s been or how many times I’ve obsessed over it, trying to solve it for hours.
I still don’t understand what she wanted me to achieve. What’s the big deal with it? Yet I can’t stop the urge to take it into my hands and twist it again and again and again.
I don’t pay attention to it—I never did. I’m just twisting the cubes, losing myself in my thoughts.
There’s something hypnotizing about their sound. It takes me back to a time when things were innocent in my soul. Innocent, yet already scarred.
“Mom, I can’t solve it,” I sighed with boredom and indignation as I threw it on her bed.
She giggled softly and sat on the edge of the bed right next to me. “You need to be patient, Cain. You will get there.”
“Why do I have to do it?” I grumbled.
“You don’t have to do it, but imagine the satisfaction it’ll give you when you solve it.”
“But it’s so hard.”
“It is, baby. You need to learn to see ten moves ahead.” She smiled brightly, tilting her head forward, daring me to try again, her natural caramel-blonde long hair framing her lean face. “You’ll be surprised at how much your mind can achieve.”
“But aren’t I too young for that?” I felt the side of my upper lip hooking high.
“You’re ten already.” She smiled and stroked my baby face. “You’re already a young man.”
“That’s right!” I flexed my arm, showing off. “I am a man, and I will protect you!”
She chuckled brightly, her gray eyes squinting. She had such beautiful eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers on anyone until today.
“Then nothing can scare me when you’re next to me,” she said, playfully brushing her finger across the bridge of my nose.
A knock on the door sounded. She gasped in surprise, diverting her gray eyes to it. She said she wasn’t afraid. She lied. She was always scared. Just like me.
“Yes?” she barely mumbled.
The door opened. “May I bring you something else, Mrs. Ford?”
“No, Eleanor, I’m fine,” Mom said, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.
“Alright.” Eleanor grabbed the knob to close the door.
“Eleanor?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I asked you to call me by my last name, not my husband’s.”
My eyes flitted between Mom and Eleanor, trying to understand why she had made that demand. Now, I know.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Manson. It won’t happen again,” Eleanor responded, folding her hands softly over her lower abdomen.
