The Worst Thing

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

I look around the campfire
at the three or four people
too tired to leave the beach.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

Again, the question.
I look through the fire at Adam
and he smiles.

“Cory, our quiet giant,
What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

I don’t know these people,
but I know this person.
Adam is my sister’s boyfriend.
And I don’t like him.

“Adam, you’re full of shit.
I’m not gonna tell you the worst thing I’ve done,
but I’ll tell you the worst thing I’ve seen.”

I watch Adam
as he taps out his pipe.
I let my vision,
blurred from the heat,
focus on the fire.

“When I was in college
I had a roommate from Detroit.
He was a little shorter than me,
a little wider,
and a hell of a lot meaner.

Never understood how guys like that
get girls,
but they do.

His was a little blonde from Texas,
big blue eyes,
and a ton of energy.

Her visits were like all the blinds
in our gloomy room
springing open at once.

But that energy diminished
with time.
I felt less and less of it
on each visit
until she wasn’t visiting
at all.

Detroit and I got along because
we didn’t get in each other’s shit.
I was sorry to see Texas go,
but it wasn’t my business
until a Thursday night
about a week later.”

“Detroit and I were listening
to loud music
and studying
when all the sudden
our front door burst in on us.
Before I could even get out of my bunk,
a guy dressed in dark jeans
and a dark hooded sweatshirt
stepped into our room.

He calmly closed the door behind him
and managed to lock it.
Detroit and I were still
in a state of shock, I guess.
He snapped first and charged
the intruder.

I stood up to see what would happen.
The intruder pushed Detroit’s face
into his quickly rising knee
and knocked him smooth out.

With Detroit at his feet,
the intruder reached up
and pulled his mask off,
revealing curly blond hair
and bright blue eyes.
“I’m sorry man, I’m no psycho.
This is just between me and him.”

I stood up fully and looked at him.
I probably had fifty pounds on him,
but he obviously knew how
to handle himself.
I listened.

“You’re Cory right? My sister liked you.
She said you were a gentle spirit,
whatever the hell that means.”
He looked down at Detroit.
“Well, this shit here is a mean spirit.
He hurt Alice. He fucking hurt her.”

I think he started crying
at that point,
because he turned away.

“And I wasn’t there, protecting her.
I was fucking serving my country.
Well, the only think I’m serving tonight
is justice.”

He looked at me.
“You, might want to leave.
Your friend’s about to have
some really bad things happen to him.”
I looked at him
and settled back into my bunk.
“He’s not my friend.”

Call it morbid curiosity,
but I really wanted to see what Detroit
had brought on himself.
it didn’t take long.

The intruder used duct tape
to tape Detroit to his bunk,
the last strip saved for his mouth.
I watched and thought to myself,
he can’t take long. He’s exposed.

He knew that too
and he got right to work.
He pulled a long,
maybe hatpin
out of his pack
and jammed it into Detroit’s ear.
He came back to life kicking and bucking,
but the duct tape held.
The intruder got his other ear
and then returned the spike to his pack,
taking out something that looked like
a bartender’s spoon.

He straddled Detroit’s body
on the bunk
and used his left hand to steady his head.
He pushed the spoon into Detroit’s right eye
and scooped it out like ice cream.
Without hesitation,
he serviced Detroit’s left eye as well.

He climbed off Detroit,
bent to pick up his pack,
and stood in front of me.
“Are we gonna have any problems?”

I climbed out of my bunk and stood.
“What problems?
I wasn’t even here.”

He left without another word.
I eventually freed Detroit
and called 911.

Stick to your story.

My story was,
I was studying at the library
and found Detroit like he was.
My story held up just fine.

Especially because the one thing
I hadn’t seen
that the intruder had done
was to cut Detroit’s tongue out.

I’m pretty sure Detroit
Is going through life
Deaf, dumb, and blind.

I look around the fire
and see that all the stragglers
have moved onto calmer waters.

I look through the flames
at Adam
and smile.

I get up from my comfy chair
and walk around the fire
to Adam.

He is still drunk or high,
or both.

He smiles when I stand before him.
“Did you listen to my story?”
“Yeah, man. Shitty roommate.
I get it.”

“That’s what I figured.”
I grab Adam’s head
and slam it against my knee.
more than once.

When I am sure
he is unconscious,
I drag his body closer
to the fire
and settle his face
into the flames.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?

well Adam,
I couldn’t answer your question,
because I hadn’t done it yet.”