Prodigal Sons
A homage to 0anon's Untitled piece.
100-word drabbles.
xXx
We are destined. Like all good sons, we'll try to do her justice. — Untitled, by 0anon.
So you're playing around this like it's convenient.
A son of many talents, he does what he can to make this an enjoyable performance for me. And with every performance I give something meaningful in return. I inspire him, give him many stories to choose from. I take his breath away and give it back. I give him many lives, many faces, many scars. I give too much until he breaks. He even pleads for me to stop. Until he learns that I will never. Then I give him the most beautiful smile that he turns into his greatest weapon. See how he never fails to please me!
You do it so often that you start to believe it.
What pains you so only makes your heart tickle. The fist that breaks your jaw, shatters your teeth makes you burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The room spins and they lose balance. Don't they know how grounded you are in this whirling heat of vulnerability? They won't know what pain is until they can't feel it anymore. The pain inside you is what keeps you alive. If he sees what you want then there will be no reason to do this. All you want is him and him alone. Your natural high. The enemy you call a friend.
You have demons so nobody can blame you.
You never wanted to be responsible for taking your own life. What you lack in strength you make up with that ruthless, rebellious wreckage of a mind. I've kept you battered, abused, tormented to pieces. Still you prevail. Look how strong I've made you. Dent's holding a gun to your head. You're pressing it harder and harder against your skull. You wanted so much to taste death even when you know I won't let you. Why won't you listen? One by one you take them all away. As for you my son—you'll always be the one I leave behind.
But who is the master and who is the slave?
I belong to you—especially when I'm feeling generous to let you have your way. I know how hard you've been working but your work is done for now. I'm sorry. I'll let you rest in your padded prison. So hush now, broken spirit. I hear your laughing and I can see those tears. You're missing your friend, aren't you? I know. I always know. Here comes your next challenge: restraint. Here comes my next blow: silence. I belong to you—only when I'm feeling generous to let you have your way. But tonight is not the night, my son.