The Break

Cerra Manor: Ryven and Kat's Suite

12-22  11:49:00


Ryven stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyes peering into those of his reflected self.  His mind still raced after losing his temper the night before.  Kat had managed to calm him, but she hadn't truly remedied the problem.  The problem was simply that he carried too many ghosts with him.  He was haunted by his past, by his choices, by the scars both physical and the unseen cicatrices of his psyche: elaborate, tragic, beautiful pink traces of wounds real and imagined.  Like a drogue, they continued to pull at him, to hold him back, and yet to render him immovable in the storm.  He examined his reflection, noting the pale complexion, the spiderweb of red vessels in his bloodshot eyes, the shadow of unshaven stubble on his skin, the dark circles around his eyes, and the sudden arrival of unbidden gray flecks in his recently grown hair.  He was a mess, plain and simple.  He began to think he ought to call his shrink. 

"Why call him?  That fraud.  He doesn't see it.  He can't see the masterpiece in front of his own eyes." The voice came from Ryven's left.

Ryven turned and found himself staring at himself, but younger, dressed in dark black cargo pants, black shirt, and full length black coat: Ryven's old clothing, from a time since past, but never truly forgotten.  The apparition spoke again. "I felt it was time we spoke, face to face.  There's just something more--" he waved his hand. "real--about talking this way."  The apparition grinned, but there was no mirth there.

Ryven's pulse quickened as he was confronted with this vision. "I'm having a psychotic break, aren't I?  This is what the doctor warned me about.  He said this was a possibility.  That I would eventually break.  Hallucinations come with that, right?"

The apparition laughed. "A psychotic break?  Well, sure.  That's probably true.  However, I like to think of this as more of a reunion.  The bringing together of the fragments.  A meeting of the minds, if you will permit a pun in such poor taste."

Ryven's expression indicated that he agreed the pun was in poor taste, even if it was fitting.  "You're the other me.  The old me.  Correct?"

The apparition nodded.

"I thought I was beginning to succeed in suppressing you." Ryven sighed deeply, realizing how mistaken he had been to believe that.

The apparition smiled and shook his head slowly. "Clearly that is not the case, now is it?" The apparition strode past Ryven and sat on the edge of the tub.  "No.  I'd have to say I'm only just getting stronger.  That's how the Haijikiotens are.  You try to snuff us out, and we tend to come right back and bite you in the ass."  The apparition lit up a cigarette.

Ryven nodded, having actually always prided himself on that particular trait. "What is it you want?  You have to have a reason for showing up like this."

The apparition inhaled a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled a slow stream of smoke before answering in a matter of fact tone, his eyes boring into Ryven's.  "I think you know what I want."

Ryven realized that he did know.  He did know and he wasn't thrilled about it. "I can't give you control.  This is my life now!  Not yours!  You're the past.  I'm the future, damnit!"

The apparition laughed, a slow, cold, spiteful laugh. "You want to play rough, then?  I expected as much.  You'll come around.  And if not, well, I'll take over anyway, during your sleep.  Be a shame to hurt that precious Kitty Kat of yours, wouldn't it?  What's the old saying?  There's more than one way to skin a Kat?"

Ryven snarled as he lunged at the apparition, his hands closing around empty air, as he crashed headfirst into the bathtub, gashing his forehead.  The blood blinded him momentarily, and he struggled to wipe it from his eyes.  He swore.  "Goddamn you.  Don't you fucking touch her!  You hear me!?  Don't you fucking dare!"

The apparition laughed. "Or what?"  He was standing by the doorway to the bathroom, cigarette in hand. "You'll hurt yourself?" He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please.  Be sensible."  The apparition walked over and sat next to Ryven on the floor by the tub.

Ryven just stared at the floor, blood still trickling down his face.

The apparition's demeanor softened somewhat. "I tell you what.  I think I have a solution to this little problem."

Ryven gave the apparition a sideways glance.

 The apparition continued. "The truth is, I'm pretty okay with your choice in girlfriends.  I mean, Shalee is a little crazy, but that's fun.  Kat is ridiculously hot, and it's not like I haven't been enjoying that ride, you know?"

Ryven bristled, but realized quickly how ludicrous it was to be upset by that statement.

The apparition continued. "Not to mention, you've got a pretty solid occupation that tends to satisfy the sort of needs a guy like me has.  I mean, you've got power, you get to kill, and hell, you even have pretty nice digs."  He gestured to indicate the suite. "So, I think maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to coexist."

Ryven simply beckoned for the apparition to continue.

"What I want.  Well, what I need really, is something a little more bloody and a little more hands-on.  That business a while back with Leela's brother, you really let me come out and play, you know?  That shit with his heart, well, that wasn't really you, ya know?  That sort of shit is all me."  The apparition smiled, the pleasure of the memory radiating.

Ryven's eyebrow raised of its own accord. "You want me to let you murder people?"

The apparition's eyes gleamed. "I knew you'd catch on!"  He patted Ryven on the shoulder. "Just a few a month should do it.  I'll take control and you'll never even know it happened.  You won't have any memory of it."

"And if I refuse?" Ryven asked, already knowing the answer.

The apparition stood and stretched. "You couldn't stop me if you wanted to." He walked over to the bathroom door and paused, his hand on the doorjamb. "Besides, if you even try to, I'll make Katerina my fucking magnum opus." He walked out the door, muttering a have a nice day as he left.

Ryven sat on the floor, his face bloody, and wept.  He had lost the war.