Caleb 04 - Saturday

Standing up, I rushed from the room, surprising my mother, who had just opened the kitchen door.

She saw my face and paled.

"Caleb, what happ..."

Spinning away, I yanked open the front door and fled.

I had no idea where I was going. I just needed to be somewhere, anywhere but where I was. I couldn't think. I could only feel, and every feeling was terrible. Nightmares sprung up, burned or stabbed me, then fizzled just as quickly. I couldn't even seize upon them long enough to think about them logically.

Mary and Amanda, lobotomized, drooling, purple collars and chain leashes - and I, the master who was even more negligent than I was cruel, tugging at them heedlessly, practically strangling them as I bumbled my way through some dirty street full of drug addicts and prostitutes.

Myself, an ugly, twisted scarecrow, grasping two beautiful balls of light - Mary and Amanda's souls, of course - and greedily shoving them into my jagged maw... only to pierce my own fetid breast with a taloned hand, tearing them out again, covered in black sludge and screaming in agony. With red fire blazing in my blackened sockets, I'd crush them in my grasp, cackling with a madness that rejected all distinction between pain, loss, cruelty, gluttony, lust, and victory. Half-digested, they'd deform like a pair of gouged-out eyeballs as I squeezed them to death, snuffing out their light forever.

Myself again - but also Harold - heedless of my own unkempt stink, or perhaps so far gone I was truly unaware of it, sleazing and humping my way through a parade of half-crazed college students, leaving them stained forever with my foul seed. Bellies would swell up and birth my monstrous children as I forever moved forward, sniffing out my next victim while tugging my twisted cock back to hardness.

The ultimate nightmare would not have been hard to predict, had I any shred of perspective left to cling to: the entire world, a pit of filth; everyone bloody and diseased; endless, mindless, drug-addicted orgies; everything and everyone dedicated to my worship; nothing but chains everywhere, all leading back to me, their god. I would treat those chains like playthings. Some days, I'd squeeze or sever them without a thought for the pain and death it would cause. Other days, I'd manipulate them precisely to inflict those arbitrary punishments. Everyone, myself included, would be convinced that I was an immaculate Adonis, but from the outside, away from my ever-expanding aura of enforced, insane delusion, I would be exposed as the exact opposite. I would be filth itself. I would be disease itself. I would more than the devil, because I would be powerful enough both to make a hell of Earth and force everyone to believe it was heaven.

Slaver. Rapist. Monster. Abomination. Devourer. Ruiner.

Eventually, I ran out of steam and found myself at the river. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted - which, ironically, was the only reason I was cognizant of where my legs had carried me. It was always where I'd used to come whenever I'd had something to think through, or when I'd just needed to be alone. Nobody ever knew of it, so I thought I was safe there and could think without interruption. I suppose I should have known better, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight at that moment.

I slumped down on a log by the water. I just felt ugly - ugly and wrong. Worse, I couldn't stop a wave of self-pity from washing over me. After all of that feverish guilt and recrimination, suddenly I fancied myself a victim.

I wondered if there was a way of breaking the bond, of releasing the girls from the trap I had unwittingly sprung on them.

Had it been unwitting, though? I remembered thinking, just before they had given themselves to me, that I wanted them. Had that thought been the catalyst for the enslavement? If so, how did I know how to do it? Was there some kind of alter-ego in my subconscious that understood my powers already, and was steering my actions while my conscious self arrogantly thought it was in control? Or was that in itself an excuse to escape the blame for my heinous act?

"Oh, it wasn't me, Your Honour, it was my evil twin hiding inside me!"

I laughed bitterly.

If I were to leave, to disappear, how would that affect the twins? They had seemed upset, but perhaps after a while, they would recover enough to live their lives.

I remembered the tearing feeling of loss I had experienced and knew that was not the case. If they felt anything like I had, then it would never go away.

I put my head in my hands and groaned. Things just kept going from bad to worse. I had no idea what to do next.

I jumped as the log I was sitting on shifted slightly as someone sat beside me: my father.

"I used to come here to think when I was younger," he said, gazing out over the river. "Still do in fact, sometimes. I like the quiet. It soothes my mind."

He put his arm around my shoulder, and I sagged against him. I was completely lost.

"Dianna told me what happened," he said.

"I'm sorry Dad," I began. "You must be so disappointed. I saw how you feel about Uncle John. To find out your own son has become..."

He pulled me into a hug, pressing my face into his chest and effectively stifling my words.

"Listen to me," he said, "You haven't disappointed anyone. If you will take a second to hear the truth of what happened, rather than what you think happened, you may see things as they are and not how you fear them to be."

He released me from the hug. "Dianna is waiting. Will you talk to her?" he asked.

I hesitated. Could it be true? Was there really a 'good' explanation for what had happened? I couldn't see how, but I was desperate to believe him. I so wanted not to be the evil degenerate that I had convinced myself that I had become.

I nodded.

He stood and walked into the trees a short way. Dianna stepped out from behind some trees and approached. She eased herself down onto the log next to me. She sighed and leaned against me.

"That was a long fucking walk," she said.

"The plan was for some alone time," I said. "I wasn't expecting a party."

She huffed.

"Caleb," she began, "When you suppressed your bond with the girls, how did that make you feel?"

"I felt like a part of me had been torn away," I said, remembering the pain. "The loss was indescribable."

"And that's that," she said. "The three of you were - and are - in this together, as equals. Caleb, I owe you so many apologies. The girls are hurting right now, so let's not say whether they owe you one too; it would be petty and cruel.

"You wanted this," she said, "and the twins wanted it too. All three of you wanted to be bound together in this profound, beautiful way. The difference is that you had no idea about anything. You didn't know it was possible; you didn't know your powers could work like that. The twins know more about this stuff than you do, but I can't imagine they knew the story about some old ritual and could've made the connections necessary to suspect that that one, out of so many other bunk and useless ones, might actually be a real thing.

"I was the one who should have been on alert. Me. I was the one who should've been telling all three of you to slow down, and not let your powers get out of control."

I shrugged. It all made sense, but I didn't care. "What's done is done," I said sullenly. "People die from accidents. It doesn't just make it okay - that it was an accident."

"Do you love them?" she asked.

"I do," I replied immediately.

"Do you believe that they love you?"

"I do." It was just as instinctive the second time, and just as true.

"Then you need to accept that this was an accident born of love," she said, "even if you can't accept that it wasn't your fault that it happened. Accidents born of love can have steep costs, Caleb, but they can also turn out to be the best mistakes you ever make."

She smiled sympathetically. "I'm only a little surprised you're not taking me up on that offer to blame me, Caleb," she said. "I think you should. I think it's the best way to move forward, and I also think it's deserved.

"If you have any doubts about how beautiful this accident can be," she continued, "all you need to do is open yourself up. You certainly don't need me to be a go-between anymore. This bond alone allows the three of you to share your deepest truths with each other. Frankly, if you were less powerful, I'm not sure you could block it as effectively as you're doing right now."

I grimaced. "Am I still hurting them?" I asked.

"No, dear," she said. "I am holding enough of a connection to maintain you for now. You will have to restore the bond, though, when you are ready."

"How can I ever trust what they feel now after it's already been done? They're dependent on me. They need me."

"And you need them just as much," she said. "Maybe believing comes later. Maybe accepting has to come first this time. There are still people on the outside, Caleb - people you love and trust. I don't deserve your trust right now, but what about your mom? She'd never let you off the hook if you'd really done something ugly to my girls. She wouldn't have let it get that far in the first place. She'd have stormed into that room and squeezed your balls until they fell off."

I had to laugh at that. I didn't want to literally picture my mom doing that to me, but I could believe it. I could half-imagine it, without the visual.

It felt good to laugh, but it was a fleeting thing. I looked at Dianna again, and I let out the deepest, darkest truth. It had been percolating and festering inside me ever since I'd run off.

"I'm too powerful," I said. "I can't trust myself, and I'm too powerful to trust anyone else. For the rest of my life, I'll always be wondering whether I've just unconsciously or unknowingly used my powers on them - brainwashed them into being another cheerleader who tells me I'm a great guy who never does anything wrong."

"Oh, dear," Dianna sighed. "Oh, dear."

I waited, expecting more. She'd been on something of a roll. She'd been doing well. I could recognize that, even as fucked up as I was emotionally. Mentally, I'd never felt clearer. That was the problem. That deep, dark truth felt so indisputable. It felt so... true.

"Each time I get presented with a situation," I said, "I react. And it's nearly always in exactly the wrong way."

She stayed quiet. I could feel that she wanted to reach out and touch me, physically - nothing sexual, just a comforting hand on my shoulder or leg. She refrained. She gave me the look, the shrug, and the nod, though. She gave me permission to take over and just let it all out.

"I find I have powers and I screw up two people's lives, sexually assault another and effectively poison someone else," I said. "I get pissed about being asked questions and I physically assault someone. I find out that I have the love of two amazing, incredible, beautiful women, and I run off and hide. When can I trust myself to do things right? I am just so scared right now that I am going to hurt someone. You, the twins, my family or a perfect stranger. When does it stop?"

"It doesn't," she said. "What you are feeling is exactly the same as every single person, when they suddenly realize that they have responsibilities outside themselves. It is worse for you because this sudden sense of responsibility was forced on you before your time, and because you're just so powerful - and because I lulled you into a false sense of security right after you discovered all this. You learn to live with it, to stop reacting, and consider your actions. Training in a martial art can help you too; the discipline is good for your mind, and means you are less likely to succumb to knee-jerk impulses."

"And how long does that take?" I asked. "To learn to live with it?"

"I don't know, seventy years?" she suggested. "It doesn't happen all at once, obviously. It's a process.

"You also need to stop being so hard on yourself," she continued. "Yes, you made some mistakes. Who hasn't? Learn from them, forgive yourself, move on and try not to make the same mistakes again. If you can do that, then you are ahead of the game. It's the same game for everyone. Different leagues, maybe. You're in the super league, Caleb. It's tougher."

She stood then.

"We should get back. I'll admit to being selfish when I ask you one more time to reopen your bond. My girls want it. I can feel it. Besides, it's almost dinner time. Even you still need to eat."

"How can I..." I began.

"You can always just talk to them instead," she said. "They'll understand that you want to try to work through some things without using your powers at all. They're not quite adults, Caleb, but they're already good, solid people - just like you are. Trust that."

I nodded and stood. Even if I didn't how to start that conversation, I knew I couldn't keep being a coward. That would be on me.

As we walked back to the house, Dianna asked me about my shield.

"Just before everything went pear-shaped," she said, "you completely disappeared from my awareness. How did you do that?"

"Imagination," I answered. "It seems to be the way my abilities work - well, one of the ways they work. I don't know if you watch Star Trek?"

"I've seen a couple of episodes," she said.

I explained how I had imagined my defense not as a brick wall, as she had suggested, but as a shield on a starship. I then told her about the Klingon cloaking device, and how I'd figured that that would be a clever trick to play.

She nodded as we walked. "Visualisation is a powerful tool for controlling power," she said. "You have a powerful imagination, and also a lot of source material to feed it."

"Yesterday," I said, hoping to take advantage of her loquaciousness, "you said you would tell me about these other factors that may allow the coexistence of Compulsion and Empathy."

"Other powers," she said simply. "Multiple powers always manifest in pairs. You can have a single power, but if you have more than one, then you always have an even number. Don't bother asking me why; I haven't got the faintest idea, but that is always how it has always worked. The strange thing is that Compulsion and Empathy are never a pair. To have both, you must have another power. Since just one other power would leave you with an odd number, you must actually have two more powers... at least."

"I know I have Compulsion, Empathy, and Telekinesis," I said. "How will I find out about my other power?"

"Wait for it to manifest," she said. "It will show itself eventually."

I thought about that.

"Isn't that dangerous?" I asked. Given my track record, I wasn't looking forward to the fallout when my unknown power suddenly made itself known.

"Less so now," she said. "You know about power, so you will know to control your emotions and direct your energies away from people. Also, you have the twins to help you."

We walked in silence for a while. I stole occasional glances at her.

"Go on," she said. "Ask."

"What?" I asked.

"You know what you wanted to ask," she said irritably, "So just do it already."

"How old are you?" I ventured.

"Didn't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?" She cackled at me, pleased to have caught me.

"I didn't," I returned. "I asked you."

That stopped her cackling. "Well," she said, "even if you learn how to be a responsible adult someday, Caleb, I think you're always going to be a bit of a dick."

"Well, that's probably best, since you like dicks."

She guffawed at that.

"You will cut yourself one day," she chuckled. "If you must know, I'm sixty-seven."

I stopped walking to let it sink in. "Huh," I said. "I mean, I'm still flabbergasted, but, once you told me that you were their grandmother, I just figured all bets were off. Sixty-seven, sure, but why not two hundred? It would be just as impossible."

I didn't actually mean 'impossible.' We were so far beyond that. She understood.

"Power users age more slowly than regular people," she replied. "We live longer too, as long as we don't die of something else first. So, it's the most boring answer possible, in context. It just is." She waved at me to catch up. I took a few hurried steps, and we kept moving.

"' Something else,' like illness or disease?" I pressed.

"Possible, but unlikely," she replied. "We are pretty resilient. Accidents or ill intent are pretty much the only things that can kill us before our time, and our time is, on average, about quadruple the normal non-power user's lifespan."

She turned to look at me where I once again had stopped. "If you keep stopping, we will never get back," she complained.

I started walking again. "You keep dropping these bombshells," I said. "What do you expect? At this rate, you'll be telling me I have adamantium bones and super speed before lights out."

We came around the last bend in the trail and the house came into view. The girls sat on the bench outside, watching for us. They jumped up as we emerged from the trees and ran towards us.

I grinned at them sheepishly. "Hi, Honeys, I'm home," I said in a sing-song voice.

Amanda giggled and Mary smiled.

Both of them pulled me into an embrace. I had one arm around each girl, and they pressed themselves against me. I don't know why, but the physical contact broke me out of my funk. I opened myself to the bond. I understood immediately what Dianna had meant; it felt like we'd created a shortcut past all the other ways our powers could link us - and that shortcut also happened to be a wide, rushing river, with no limit to how much it could pour through and between all three of us. I was filled with love and joy at our reunification, and my feelings of guilt, shame, and remorse were obliterated in the face of that love. More tears ran down my face and I hugged the pair to me tighter, never wanting to release them.

I felt a hand on my back, and not wanting to let go of my girls, turned us all around to face my mother.

"Come on inside," she said. "Dinner is ready, you must be starving after being out all day."

The food was already on the table when we entered the kitchen. My father was seated in his usual spot at the head of the table. Mary and Amanda sat either side of me, and my mother and Dianna sat opposite.

"After dinner you will need to get all your stuff ready for tomorrow," my mom said. "All your washing is done and in the bag downstairs. The red bag next to it is Mary's."

I suddenly had an awful realisation: Mary and I would be heading back to PSU tomorrow, but Amanda wasn't at our university. She would be heading back to a totally different place, miles away.

That bad feeling was swept away instantly. Amanda told me, through the grand river of our bond, that she was going back with us.

"Words, please, you three," Dianna gently chided. "Be polite."

"Sorry, Grams," Amanda said with a smile. "Grandma has quite a bit of pull through her job, Caleb. I'm already officially a new transfer student."

My mind immediately pictured Josh's face when he met both my girls, and I grinned. When I did, so did Mary and Amanda.

"What's funny?" asked my mother.

"I don't know," I replied. "How do you girls feel about secret-twin pranks?"

"They can be amusing, within reason," Mary said, her grin turning coy.

"Or maybe just a little bit past it," Amanda added impishly.

It felt strange to not feel strange, but that's how it was: the three of us were talking out loud solely for the benefit of the others at the table, and we all knew it. It was simply how it was going to be from then on. We couldn't transmit every single piece of information to each other just through that rushing river of shared emotions, but it occurred to me that the twins could augment that river with their powers, to the point where we'd effectively have a telepathic connection whenever we wanted it. There'd be a tiny lag because we'd be trading memories instead of actual thoughts, but that didn't seem like much of a barrier at all.