Silaqui had gone back down to help customers; her apothecary was more busy than I had thought. As I sat there, feeling the power and evil slowly leave my system, I felt relief begin to wash over me, a simple joy that this feeling wasn’t permanent. But then the realization began to settle in, that I would be physically unable to touch anyone skin-to-skin, or else I would be risking a repeat incident of today. Silaqui might’ve been able to help me this time, but what would I do if she couldn’t? What would’ve happened to me if I had gone home? I simply resolved that I would have to avoid contact with people, but then I thought of all the friends I was making, and the ways they made me feel. I didn’t desire anything sexual in nature from them, but the thought of never being able to hold someone’s hand, or kiss them, or hug them was beginning to make me depressed.
But then I thought of Silaqui, and the kindness she was showing me, and the honesty and friendliness, and the immunity she seemed to have to my unique ability, and I wondered if she would want to do those things with me. My face became flush, and I tried to dismiss those thoughts, but her kindness was soul-piercing in a way that was unavoidably beautiful and baring. I knew that it was strange, to feel this way for someone who was basically my doctor, but I couldn’t help it; imagine, if you would, an animal that had only been poked and prodded its entire life, and then suddenly, one person bathes it, feeds it, and takes it home. Of course that animal is going to feel something for that person, and in this case, I was that animal. I had just gone through something awful and traumatic, and she saved me; not only that, she saved me with an open heart and a smile.
Fuck. Was I falling for her? I began to feel warm inside, but then, suddenly, I thought of Aera, and my blood went cold. I thought of punching Joon-hu, and laughing about it. I thought of killing that man, a man who didn’t deserve to die. I thought of my mother, who worked herself to death just trying to give me a life I don’t think I deserved in the first place. And then the happiness of love was replaced by the knowledge that loving me was never a good idea, and that wherever I went, I left a trail of suffering in my wake. I couldn’t love her; I couldn’t love anyone. I wanted to feel warmth, but maybe this curse was a blessing, puzzle pieces falling into their proper place. The universe wants me to distance myself from everyone, and so that is what I must do.
The medicine had run its course, and I felt as I did before I had shaken that man’s hand, and so I grabbed my belongings, and made my way downstairs. Silaqui was speaking with a customer, but when she saw me making my way to the door, she excused herself and walked towards me.
“I’m glad to see you’re up and about, but are you sure you’re good to go? You were just in some deep shit, and I’d like it if I could keep an eye on you for a little while longer, just to be sure.”
“No,” I replied, a practiced calmness in my voice, “it’s all out of my system. I’m back to normal again. Thank you for helping me, I really appreciate it. I’ll call you tonight and give you an update, okay? But I don’t wanna distract you, you seem really busy.” I gestured to the customers in her shop, and she nodded.
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“Okay, I understand. You do look normal - well, you know, back to your edgy elf self - so yeah, if you think you’re good, then okay. Just call me tonight, got it? And keep to your schedule, every day, call me, and twice a week stop by.”
“Can do,” I replied, and made my way to the door, before stopping halfway through. “Hey, Silaqui? Thank you, again. You really saved me,” I remarked, before slipping out the door, not waiting for a reply. As I made my way through the city streets, hands in my pockets, I looked up at the sky; it was already dark, the February sky shifting with dark clouds and the slightest hint of the dusk. I felt a deep frustration in my heart, a kind that needed an outlet, a kind that needed violence. Usually, I would let this out in a dojo, but between school and my new form, I haven’t really found a place that would take me in. I considered my options at the moment, but all of them required money, and I was considerably broke. But then an idea came to mind, one that seemed to kill two birds with one stone, and suddenly I found myself stalking campus, my hood up, and a scarf concealing my face.
I decided I would vent my frustrations on the man who caused my episode, the one who so egregiously hurt his child. I knew that this wasn’t something that was okay, but honestly, I didn’t care at the moment; my heart was deeply wounded and in flux, and it needed something, anything, to make things better. My father was a man who believed in good, and in law and order; I believed in good too, and that if everyone chose to do the right thing, the world would be a better place. But the sad truth was that both humans and Othersiders often chose to do wrong; I saw it every day growing up, and simply chose to swallow it, because I thought I deserved it. But that child, that poor defenseless child, did not deserve it, and tonight, I would show this man the other side of the relationship he had with his kid; I would show him helplessness.
I saw him leave the building and begin to walk down the street; I wasn’t sure if he had a car or not, but I followed him nonetheless. The sky was now pitch black, the lights from the city being the only guide along our way. He walked slowly, his breath visible in the cold night air, and his heartbeat calm and slow; his nervous system was sympathetic, calm, as he sipped what smelled like coffee from a thermos. As he walked past an alleyway, I made my move: within a second, I had moved 20 feet and was upon him, throwing him effortlessly into the dark of the alley. He yelled, his thermos falling to the ground, and again, in a moment, I was standing over him, my gloved hand over his neck.
“I know what you do,” I said to him, my voice a low growl. “Your child, I know you hurt him. You beat him, mercilessly. You are a bad father. And so, I will show you the other side. I will show you what pain is. And if you choose to continue to inflict pain on your child after this, then you are irredeemable, and I will come for more than a lesson next time.”
I began to beat him. Not as hard as I could, as that would easily kill him; instead, I began softly, with an extremely weak punch. It did nothing to him, and so I tried a little harder, and this one made an impact, but not enough. So I went harder. Then I went harder, all the while ensuring that he could make no sound, no cry for help; I beat him, and the little darkness in my own heart began to fade away little by little. When it was satisfied, I let loose one last hit, and knocked him unconscious. Kneeling over his bruised and battered body, I applied some first aid to ensure he wouldn’t bleed out in the alley, and then made my way out and down the street calmly, leaving him there to wash in a pool of blood, a baptism of my own making.
