Breakable

If it can be broken, break it...Such has always been the rule of life. Or so he thought. He stood before the broken mirror in the darkness admiring what he could not see. He had always liked the dark. It had a way of engulfing him, making him feel secure. If there was ever such a thing as security. He had never quite known it. He had been born to decent parents, good people with satisfactory lives. He had watched them as he grew admiring, how they never seemed to get angry. He though, he was something else. He had forever contained a rage inside him he did not quite understand. He remembered letting it out once in his childhood. His parents had been horrified and he had to change schools. He also had to talk to a buddy, someone who always asked him weird questions. He never really cared to answer and after a ruckus one windy night the buddy stopped coming. He remembered it was windy because he had locked his window. He could hear the wind pounding against the glass as if saying, let me inside. I am your true destiny. His parents tried to talk to him. After a couple of years, they too gave up. His episode was over they thought and they were okay with this new normal they seemed to have defined. He wasn’t a loving child really, but he had his moments. Sometimes they would sit quietly outside on the porch, his father having a beer, his mother weaving and he reading a book. He too mistakenly thought the rage had gone. He could feel it, always, but he could ignore it. Keeping it at bay felt right.
Till it didn’t. As he grew older, it started twisting its way out. It took a different path every time overwhelming him each time it did. It was like it had a life of its own and he was merely a host. But he too had started liking the release. It was satiating in a way nothing else was. He was also always thirsty, and it was draining. He sought information. He sought knowledge. It could come from anywhere, books, the internet, paintings even people sometimes. While he was with them, getting to know them, he liked them. But the minute it got over something would come over him. And he would be filled with rage again. Sometimes it was momentary, a shower or a drive would calm him down. Sometimes it was easy, he could feel it but he could also control it. He could ignore it even. He had started liking doing that too, ignoring this galloping animal inside him. It gave him a feeling of being powerful. But sometimes, it was painful. Physically. It stayed for weeks and months and it just never left. In such episodes, it generally found a way. This has always been a rule of the world he thought to himself; if one is stubborn enough, one does find the way.
He was in someone else’s house. He knew they were not in since they worked with him. He was housekeeping for them. It wasn’t something he did for people, being helpful but this couple he liked. They made life easier for him. There was always someone like that. The world is full of good people, people who you can watch and learn from. As much as he knew despite the reading and the irrevocable thirst for knowledge, he could never use it. He could never differentiate between right and wrong. He didn’t really know what they were. He couldn’t feel them. All he could feel was what he wanted to do. And what he wanted to do he generally always did. But they had started cohabiting him, telling him what was right and what was not. He had not minded it initially but now he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure when his next rage session was due. But it was coming, he could feel the pain hiding beneath the surface biding time. There was something in this darkness, he knew. It was him. He smiled at the light in the mirror. It was a reflection from the window. They were coming home.