#this one is just one abstract psychology lesson the drabble

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 20: Bisect

When the child was born, as with any child, no one could yet tell what was contained inside it.

All he could do, after all, was curl up and sleep. Cry occasionally. Even when he developed beyond the infant stage, still no one could tell. All there was to see was a child, who went about his day like any other. He was curious at all the right things, happy at all the right moments, just as endearing and sweet as your average child.

The first signs didn’t come until eight years. Even then, who could have told? An angry outburst and one punch to a fellow child who he claimed to be making fun of him was hardly odd. For the child looked upon his parents with sad, regretful eyes, just as any child should.

But then the contents slowly streamed out of the container. Incident upon incident over time, more outbursts and fits of anger. Perhaps he’d just grow out of it. Children did things like this. And he hadn’t a day out of the ordinary from any other noble child. There could be no other cause.

His parents waited. And waited. And eventually, began to grow frustrated. “You need to stop this,” they said more firmly than ever. “Every time we tell you to control yourself, it’s like you’re not listening. This is bad, Esredes. You can’t act like this.”

Maybe he was told no. But a child was driven by their impulses, and all of his told him the same collective thing. No, he could not, and would not, stop. There were so many things he needed to explore and know, and being told no made him mad. He didn’t like being held back. It was like a cage! And cages were bad! And every time people pushed back against him, all his impulses told him it was best to fight back.

Fighting seemed right.

No matter what his parents did over the years that followed, he still would not listen. His desire to fight back only grew as he realized just how many unfair rules were in place in the manor. No going out after a certain time. No going here or there. Well, too bad. It was boring to stick to all the places that were fine, and his spirit could not contain its own urge to be as free as the wind.

Rules, rules, rules. All broken like shards of glass. All the while, he only grew more angry at the resistance. No, no one could hold him down. He was going to be free to do what he’d like, and that was that.

Yet when the consequences came crashing down, he still ended up feeling shame. His father’s words from the night before still rung clearly in his head, and he could only stare up and remain silent as his parents told him they’d have to try something new with him.

In the following weeks, they brought in a pair of family friends to watch after the teen. To be with him for far too many moments within the day, always telling him to do this or that. It was infuriating, at first, and he made his resistance known. But they pushed back harder than anyone had before. They did not just eventually let it go like his parents. They really meant it.

Fuck.

As angry as it made him, eventually the anger turned to exhaustion. So long of fighting people. So long of resisting. It made his very soul weary with the weight of all the effort. So the teen finally, reluctantly, tried to listen to their words. Try to really see if they made any sense. Inside his spirit, there was a weak little thing. It had always been there, pushing its influence on parts of him, but it was too weak to be more than a passive influence. Nothing had given it power. Nothing had ever fostered it to grow. Instead, it was held down and terrorized by the much larger force that was in control. It told the small thing it would never be powerful. That the larger part would always be in control, and the owner of the soul was a slave to its whim.

But in the weeks that followed, something finally reached out to the weakling. Suddenly it was being listened to, suddenly it could take part meaningfully. What a wonderful thing it was, to finally have real influence! It never wanted to let this moment go!

So it didn’t.

All though the former powerhouse of the soul protested and fought back, the new emerging force grew strong and fought back. And in the end, won. It could not diminish the power of its enemy, or kill it outright. But it was an equal now, creating a fragile balance. As long as the other was not given the means to resist it, it would remain in control. This soul was its now. And it would not let go of that, not for the sake of the child...

The meeker child that appeared as a result of this went through a much better remainder of his teenage years because of it. Sometimes he had moments of falter, where the other side nearly overpowered for a moment, but the side in charge held it down with all its might.

Oh how perfect its little paradise was now. Nothing could stop it now...

If only it had been smart enough to see it coming.

One day its host had entered his first battle. His first real, true battle. It thought it had been ready to guide him through it, that it would not falter, not for a moment--

And the boy panicked. In all of the motion, all of the noise, too much going on- he had no choice but to panic. And the tentacles of its enemy started wrapping about, pulling it closer.

It was going to regain control, after everything. All would be for nothing, if it did not fight back with all its will! So it pushed back hard against its eternal enemy, and in the end, it retreated. But not before the boy was already dizzy and breathing hard on the ground. Oops. Oh well. It’d handle it better next time...

And better it could handle it, for the first few times. All until the boy witnessed one of his comrades be cut down in front of him.

Oh no.

It froze up. How could it deal with this? There was no logical explanation for something like this, for such agony, such suffering, it--

Was overpowered by its enemy in an instant, the tentacles wrapping around it and pulling it in.

And Esredes could not stop it from happening. All of his training melted away in an instant as he rushed at the opponent without positioning his blade properly, leading to a slash across his chest. But even as it burned, he did not stop. He couldn’t stop as he tore into the person over and over again with his blade, blood spurting out of every opening.

He’s going to die, it thought in a panic as it fought against its enemy. He won’t notice if something sneaks up on him and stabs him! Stop, my enemy, please, you’re going to kill him!

Kill him?

I am only allowing him to do as he needs. You are the one who tortures him by hiding him away from what he really is. Finally, he can truly feel the passion of the battle he so desired.

“Rosemond,” came a voice from behind the man. The voice distracted its enemy for a moment, just long enough for it to free itself from the tentacles and push it away, back into the corner it belonged, and hastily take control again.

“He’s beyond dead. You can stop.”

The young knight looked back at his superior, still heaving from the effort of his deed, before staring upon his work almost in horror. The corpse was almost unrecognizable... Eugh! He hastily scrambled his way off of it, putting a hand to the cut on his chest as the burning got even more painful. “I’m... I’m so sorry, Ser,” he said. “I was careless...”

And then he collapsed to the ground, painting the grass with red.

This is all my fault, it thought as the boy was carried off with the wounded. Had I not faltered, he wouldn’t have been hurt. I need to be stronger. I can’t let that happen again...

But as much as it tried, it couldn’t get stronger. It could only ever be equal to its enemy, stuck in the same delicate balance.

Esredes himself thought it was just him getting used to the art of battling. He would keep trying, and then soon enough, be able to stop these moments from happening. But as time went on, he couldn’t. In some moments, the rush of battle couldn’t be contained in his calm focus. It flooded over him for a moment, and the world narrowed in to his target, the rush of excitement as he sliced such a deserving opponent in half. In those moments, it felt so wonderful. Other times, it was less excitement and more panic. When an enemy wounded him and closed in, he had to keep fighting, in a desperate measure to survive. Sometimes even intense anger made the feeling trigger, his eyes widening more than they usually did as he retaliated against whatever made him feel that way with all the fires of hell.

But no matter what, it was always fleeting, always a quick moment that was broken at the smallest interruption. Yet over all this time, he had become well aware of its merits. Sometimes when it was safe and worth doing, he took his own control over the two’s battle. He pushed what was in control back, and listened to the enemy as it whispered in his ear, playing them into a delicate dance of back and forth until he was satisfied to let it take full control once more as usual. While he would much rather allow the enemy to stop unwillingly taking control of him- it was the best he could make of a feeling that never stopped entirely appearing.

I don’t understand, it said to its enemy. Why do you persist? Why are you still here? Can’t you see you only do bad for him?! He needs to move beyond you!

Oh, you foolish creature, it replied. Are you so blind not to see the obvious? You are fake, artificial. You were born weak, practically nonexistent. I am what is real and what he has always been. He is not a creature of your kind. He cannot be contained and held down by order as so many try and fail to do. At the end of the day, he will always have a desire to destroy. To do what he pleases. He cannot be so neatly contained as he pretends to be, as so many fools fall for the illusion of. I will always be the true side of him.

...Perhaps you will be, the other responded. But I am never giving up. Because he is better without you.

Again, you are so idiotic. Without me, he couldn’t do anything he does. There would be no fire. Just an emotionless and obedient husk.

And yet with only you there is a person who can’t function, it countered. So perhaps we both need to continue to exist like this, in this fragile balance. Perhaps I understand now what your purpose is. But you have to remain contained. And so I will not give up

And so neither of us will give up.

And so the man continues on, in his perpetual quest to see his cause through... For nothing would ever fix the incomplete balance, nothing could see just how delicate it was. They only ever saw either his sadness, or his seriousness.

He would always fight this one little battle alone.