Isthmus
Kyle is, unequivocally, your average young adult in his second year of college except for one simple fact: he was dying. His hand was grabbing just below his heart with all the strength that remained as if he was trying to tear something out. What it was exactly, he didn’t know. Or, at least, he was starting to understand. Kyle could see his blood creeping up towards his face on the blue-steel carpet. As it flowed towards his mouth he used his remaining breaths to blow the blood away so he wouldn’t accidentally consume it.
Moments earlier he was found sitting on an old brown chair, probably as old as he is, staring at a 4K ultra-high-definition 65” television. He's not even sure what the difference between ultra and standard high definition is, but it doesn't matter in this circumstance. Next to it on the wall hangs a framed picture of him sitting on the same chair as an infant. His mother and father are smiling as they surround him on each side of the chair with their hands tied together in the middle. Though let’s be honest, this photo likely took a few dozen attempts, including him crying, looking in the opposite direction, or grasping for his mother to end up with this final result.
His parents have gone out for their date night, leaving him alone in this house. His parents are one of those rare families still paying for a television subscription and they have all the channels, including the ones that host adult films in the late-night scheduling. He doesn't have to worry about anyone surprising him. This is an ideal situation for him to be in. “Now is the time”, he thinks. He turns the television on to one of the late-night premium channels. The first channel he flipped to was good enough to jack off to.
“Shit!” He whispers aggravatingly as he orgasms no more than thirty seconds later as semen spread throughout his underwear. Though, he's not sure why he's so aggravated by the whole ordeal. No, he knows precisely why. It’s because he worries that when he has sex with a woman that she may expect a performance like a porn star like those in the film he's currently watching. But for now, it feels good, and tries to remind himself not to worry.
He lives in a townhome sandwiched between two others like it. The backyard, or lack thereof, overlooks a church. It has a brown wooden fence that stands roughly five feet high and he always felt like they built it after they got tired of seeing him display his ass every Sunday morning while standing on the balcony that faces it. With the wall put up, the source of his Sunday morning ritual of entertainment ceased to exist. The front door to his house faces a skinny road where more townhomes like his live on the other side.
His eyes started to wander to a three-foot trophy that stood next to the television and his memories came to take his mind off the boring movie now that the nude brunette had exited the screen. When he was younger, Kyle took martial arts as an extracurricular activity in his after-school program. The trophy he was staring at was awarded to him in his first tournament, pompously reminding him that he used to be physically active.
Unfortunately, he didn’t win the tournament. In a fight between him and a girl, a single kick of hers sent him flying off the mat where the match was held. He was rushing into her hoping to throw a punch, but it backfired. She dodged the attack and he stumbled a bit. As he turned around, her foot was already mid-air preparing for a counterattack. After he fell off the mat, he stood up and went back in. “This time,” he thought, “I’ll go defensive.” They walked in circles waiting for one or the other to make the first move, hoping hers was something he could counter. She threw another kick in his direction and he grabbed her foot. "I can take her from this position", he thought. She already prepared for that. As he was attempting to pull her down, her other foot came from behind her and landed a perfect strike to his head. Kyle fell to the ground like a tree. The match was over and she won. He never caught her name but will always remember her slightly browned skin and that smile of hers with the mouth guard slightly out. She was standing in the victory pose with her fists up in the air.
He didn’t quit martial arts because of that last fight, but it was one of the last times he practiced it and the last tournament he competed in. The final nail in the coffin was shortly after when his instructor informed the class that he had sold off the studio. There was a family emergency that required her to leave suddenly. The new instructor, a male, didn’t abide by the same belt system that the previous instructor had set up. A few weeks later, Kyle was given a new belt for his accomplishments, but it wasn’t new to him at all. It was one he had previously had and worked past. He informed the instructor he already had this and was a higher rank, but the instructor said, “This is my system, and belts are earned differently.” Discouraged, he never returned.
With the erection fully recessed, he turns on PlayStation and continues to play another thirty minutes before he saves the game and shuts it down. He stands up and drops the rest of his pants to his ankles, deciding to carry them upstairs to avoid any contamination from the underwear as if they were oozing with radioactive chemicals. He removes his underwear and throws them in the hamper along with his shirt and takes a shower.
What Kyle didn't know was that his parents didn’t close the garage door when they left. A hooded man driving a van searched to see who was home and who was not as he snaked along the skinny road between the townhomes. With the lights off in the living room and no cars in the garage, the man felt that Kyle's home was a prime target to burglarize. He backed his white 1990s van with the words “Christian Cleaners” written on it in an ugly blue and yellow font into the garage. The man calmly opened the door into the home and began to grab as many things as he could lift back and forth into the van.
Kyle heard a commotion downstairs once he turned off the shower. He thought it was his parents and ignored it for now. He dried off with a towel, brushed his teeth, and started to walk toward his bedroom door that faced the hallway. The hallway overlooked the living room and split off after another several feet. One was a staircase to the main floor, and the other led to his parent’s bedroom. Opening the door, he didn't recognize the man who stood in front of him who, for the moment, was headed into Kyle's room to steal more items. Kyle was paralyzed in shock as he tried to determine if it was an illusion or someone familiar. The man reacted first, stabbing Kyle in the chest multiple times. Kyle fell down and he saw the blood conquer the carpeted flooring like an evil empire on a historic map as it crept toward his face. Agonizing pain began to pierce his core, and then it spread through his entire body. Eventually, he felt nothing.
