168 – Anger II: Origin (CONTENT WARNING)

This chapter has possibly traumatic content in the form of suicide encouragement. Read at your own discretion.

The Divine held out a hand for me to grab.

I looked at the limb, then back at her head. “Is this going to be more personal than I thought?” I inquired with a fair amount of concern.

“Do not fight it,” she whispered. “I will guide you.”

I took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh. “Fuck it,” I muttered while shaking my head, then grabbed her hand.

Progress comes from leaving the comfort zone, after all.

The gauntlet in my hand twisted with the soft sound of sand on skin, opened up, and slowly engulfed my fingers, covering them like a piece of armor would. The fit was tight but comfortable, tickled my skin like hot sand during summer, and brought an unnatural sense of familiarity to my mind.

Shorvanna's arm wrapped my own while she closed into me slowly. The Goddess offered her other limb.

I bit my lips and hugged her body. “Come on, Shorvanna. Don't be shy,” I tried deflecting my slight alarm with humor. While I wasn't one to shame other people's kinks, vore was a bit much this early in the relationship.

The scalding touch of the Goddess enveloped my body, covering every centimeter with her own. My nose was assaulted by the thick, heavy, and warm smell of blood coming from the Divine, making me wince a little.

The movement stopped once Shorvanna was completely around me. In other words, I was inside a Goddess in all meanings possible.

I chuckled at how profane and blasphemous my thoughts were. “You're a bit tight,” I threw a dirty joke, moving my hips in suggestive circles.

Despite the constricted accommodation, the Goddess was surprisingly flexible. She was more comfortable than my Starforged Eternium armor to the point of feeling I belonged inside her. I moved my arms and she felt like an extension of my body rather than a separate being.

The helmet had two slits that let me see with surprising ease.

I used to roam the world like this, attached to a Halve, Shorvanna spoke into my mind. We bore witness to wars, conquest, and all manner of beautiful conflict.

I hummed. “Did a male Halve ever wear you?” I probed with curiosity.

Thousands, she replied.

“That's my cousin, keke!” I snickered with a cheeky smirk.

Focus, Shorvanna chastised me, then covered my eyes.

I sat down on the ground and crossed my legs, then placed my hands on my knees. I took a deep breath and let it out. The airflow echoed inside the Goddess, giving me a slight sense of claustrophobia.

I am not your enemy, she whispered. Clear your mind, Natasha.

I closed my eyes and relaxed.

Shhhh... Embrace your anger and release it, the Goddess guided me. Have you ever hated anyone to the point of being willing to murder them?

A few memories came to mind. The feeling of burning hatred felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else instead. I have, I admitted.

Tell me about it, Shorvanna whispered into my mind. Show me.

I dove into my memories, oddly unobstructed by that weird thing that prevents people from recognizing the origin of emotions. Even though I knew why I had so much anger inside, it was incredibly difficult to connect the dots that help untangle the mess that brings recurrent outbursts of uncontrollable anger... when I was a Human. Now, unburdened by emotional attachment, the picture was much cleared while at the same time feeling unnaturally distant.

Rationally, I knew those emotions were mine. Reason, however, has very little influence when dealing with emotions.

I let go and showed the Goddess.

The year was 2020. The cold December weather bit into the bones and slightly numbed the fingers and toes.

I was waiting inside a coffee shop in Saint Petersburg, taking refuge from the freezing weather that covered the streets with snow. My hands tightly clasped a tall cup of tea that assisted me in the fight against the cold.

Still, the freshly served beverage felt no different from the white wonderland outside the shop when compared to the burning anger inside me.

My feelings were a mess. Stress had completely fucked me up the last few days.

An anxiety I had never felt before had driven my mind to extreme ideas that would inevitably destroy my life if I followed the impulses. I feared for myself, for my father, and for my brother. If I were to follow through with these intrusive thoughts brought to be by scorching rage, those around me would lose more than what we would gain.

It was not worth it.

Still, I had nearly succumbed to the temptation of such seductive outcomes many times. The very idea of it was attractive beyond reason. My heart pumped loudly every time I so much as ventured in that direction of possible futures.

Every time the idea surfaced on my mind, however, indescribable fear and guilt filled my heart. As much as it was tempting, it was equally wrong. A few drops of sweat rolled down my temple, making me feel a bit feverish.

With the guilt, my mind wandered and anxiety surfaced, forcing my hand to subconsciously reach for my coat's left pocket, where I stored a pack of cigarettes.

Nicotine promised the same amount of release, but cheaper and quicker.

I felt weak when confronted with reality, which only made me angrier. Careful not to crush the precious drug I was cripplingly addicted to, I released the cigarettes and moved my hand back to the cup.

This cycle repeated more times than I can remember.

The door to the coffee shop suddenly opened, and a freezing gust of wind went inside the store and interrupted my irrational thoughts.

A woman of around forty years of age looked over at the patrons inside the shop. Her hair was a golden blonde, her eyes were green, and her skin was white. The woman's brows were bent in worry, uncertainty, and a drop of hope. Her eyes betrayed a regret I despised with all my being. Her mouth was pursed in hesitation.

A waiter welcomed the woman and asked something.

The woman's eyes met mine, and her expression turned grim. She said something to the waiter and excused herself, then walked towards me.

After ten full years, the monster that had birthed me was finally in front of me.

The fire in me roared, burning brighter and hotter. I clasped the cup tighter to avoid ruining both our lives. My eyes squinted and my frown accentuated.

It was not worth it.

“Natashenka,” the woman called to me in an unsure whisper while anxiously wringing her gloved hands. She smiled and placed a hand on the seat across mine, then tentatively asked, “May I sit?”

My face soured at the insolence of the woman. “Don't act like we're close,” I warned her, then gestured for her to take a seat.

Her expression turned pained, but the woman decided to sit down. She removed her gloves and sighed. “I can't believe this weather,” she nervously chuckled. “You've lived in Saint Petersburg two years now? You're amazing... Natasha. I don't know if I would've held on this long! It's in the negatives!”

“Go fuck yourself,” I uttered. “You don't have what it takes to hold on regardless of circumstance. We both know that.”

The woman closed her eyes and sighed. “I wanted to meet you because I have something to say,” she blurted out with difficulty, then looked me in the eye.

I nodded.

She took a deep breath, then said, “I'm sorry, Natasha.”

I scoffed, then chuckled. “I don't need you to apologize. I needed you to be better,” I retorted. “But you weren't. You're a waste of human skin, bitch.”

Her eyes tightened and moistened. “I understand if you're angry,” she whispered with a tight smile.

My eyebrows climbed my forehead. “Angry?” I repeated with a chuckle. “I came here with the intent of murdering you,” I confessed, then huffed, “But I don't have it in me.”

The woman's chin trembled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I'm sorry,” she quietly sobbed.

I released the cup and balled my fists.

If I didn't have it in me to kill my own mother, then all I could do was to make her do it herself.

A painful, uncomfortable cold spread in my chest. “There's one thing you can do to redeem yourself,” I told her through gritted teeth.

Her eyes shot open and she leaned forward on the table. “Anything!” she exclaimed with the intent to fix all the harm she did. Hope shone in her eyes, and her lips curved in a smile.

“Commit suicide,” I told her the worst thing a daughter can tell a mother. Nausea struck me and I got a bit dizzy, but continued nonetheless, “Kill yourself and all will be good. I can't live in peace until I know you're dead. My dad can't. My brother can't. Everything you have done and everyone you have loved will finally rest after your death. You aren't worth the crime... so do it yourself.”

A waitress came up to us and put a menu in front of the woman I wanted dead. She said something and waited.

“A latte,” the worst filth in the world deadpanned.

The waitress nodded and walked away with the menu.

I leaned forward and kept going. I had to strike while the metal was hot. “Do it quietly, and make sure nobody finds you. You can go to the bay, overdose on painkillers, then jump in the water. Make sure the current takes your corpse under the ice so you at least don't bother others. You won't feel the cold if you take the right amount, so it won't be the worst way to go. You won't even know you're drowning, too. It's perfect for a piece of shit like you.”

She looked me in the eye with an extremely pained expression. “...Why?”

“Dad told me,” I revealed with disgust. “You raped him, and out I came. Your life is worthless, so hurry up and end it.”

Shorvanna was silent for a few seconds. Natasha... she whispered. Think of all that you have survived. All the times your strength and anger has saved you. Accept what you have always known. Think of all the lives you have taken. That moment when you kill and the light leaves their eyes. Concentrate on that instant and replay it. Manifest your intent to kill.

I followed her suggestion. All the Demons I've killed in my dreams, the bandits, Nerissa, and Zalan showed up in my mind's eye. Something stirred within me. A primal feeling that felt quite similar to my instincts as a Halve.

Remember how you felt that night in Mountroad, the Goddess suggested. The desire to end the world if it turns against you.

I recalled the wrathful voice that promised to dry the seas, drown the world in blood, split the continents, butcher the Gods, bring down the moons, and annihilate all life on Galeia.

Galeia does not need it if it does not obey. Make a weapon of it so Galeia never finds you wanting, or a threat.

I focused on them and extented a metaphorical hand. The willingness to end life at the slightest disobedience was incredibly solid and hot. My anger felt like hot smoke: malleable, shapeless, and burning. The concentrated moment of taking a life was cold, sharp, and shorter than an instant.

Good job, Shorvanna praised me, probably looking into my mind. Let's stop for today. The amount of progress is satisfactory. We'll continue tomorrow.

Alright, I agreed with a long sigh. I need a hug, anyway.

That you do, young Halve, the Goddess agreed. Life wasn't exactly kind to you, was it?

Nope, I confirmed. It is what it is.