The Admonishments of Kherishdar
M.C.A. Hogarth

HOMICIDAL IDEATION

ashgeten [ aash geh TEHN ], (noun) — a person who is capable of reaching out to someone who is too broken to respond appropriately. The quality of being capable of this is called geten and is one of the rarer forms of esar (quality that makes one fit to lead).

      Vision splashed with red
      "NO."
      I snarl and lunge for his throat
      "NO."
      I see her body broken under my hands
      "NO."
      Over and over, he smashes me against the wall. Over and over I reach for him, seeing him in pieces, face separating into nonsense. Black. White. Rust. Blood.
      We do it endlessly, day after day. The thoughts come. He shoves me down. I scream. He dodges my blows. I leap, he wrestles me to a halt. He never leaves me alone with the voices. The images shatter, scatter, torn apart by his voice and his hands.
      I'll kill them
      "NO."
      I'll kill them all
      "NO."
      Blood and death and
      "Why?"
      The question enters through the same hole as the command and I think I hate them, I hate them all, I hate them, the happy ones, all of them, so happy, hate them all
      "Why?"
      I hate them because they deserve it and they shouldn't, they don't deserve it, they don't, they, they don't deserve it, don't deserve, I don't deserve it
      I don't deserve it, I don't, I don't, I don't
      His eyes, blanched and fierce. "If you don't deserve it, then why am I here?"
      Stillness listening
      "Why do I come back, day after day?"
      ...
      "Why do I come back for you, over—
      —and over and over and over and
      —my body falls, I'm wailing. The violence explodes out from center, and my limbs jerk and flail and I shriek over and over and over and over, but it's safe, it's safe, he's holding me down, his voice is in my ear, soft, whispering, "Let it out, let it out. Let it out," so I let it out and I howl until there's nothing left and
      He's still holding me, he's holding me, he's still here, still, still, because I deserve it
      "Yes."
      I deserve it
      "Yes."
      I cry. I cry and cry. But Shame holds me through it all and now I know what love feels like.
      I no longer exist in a cell in the Bleak. I am a potter on Third World, where I live with my wife and my two children and all our extended family, where I hold them with arms that were taught how.
      Sometimes I still hear the voices. Then I hear his.
      I deserve to be happy
      YES.
      I deserve to be loved
      YES.
      I deserve to live
      YES.
      YES.
      YES.



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© 2007, M. C. A. Hogarth