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Season 05 - Episode 18
‘to resist without’
Ri is standing in her mother's bedchamber.
In the near total darkness, her black robes make her all but invisible. By what little light there is however, Ri can make out the smudged grey shapes of her mother's enormous bed. The meticulously piled and folded sheets and blankets, the vast headboard and finally the long, slender bulge of her mother's sleeping form.
In the light, all the furniture and fabrics sing busily with intricate patterns of decoration, infinite swirling curls of gold all on pristine white, the trappings of the truly divine. Seen like this however, through the thin, cool gloom, all Ri sees are dull, flattened shapes, just an ordinary woman lying in an unnecessarily large bed.
In perfect silence, she takes two steps closer to stand over the bed, picking out the pale oval of her mother's sleeping face. This close she can hear the old woman breathing, even smell her a little, the most expensive perfumes and oils in the land almost but not quite masking the very human tang of body odour.
This is not the first time Ri has stood here, watching her mother sleep. Almost every night since she decided to kill her mother, she has slipped into this room at this time and stood on this spot. Tonight is different however.
Tonight she will do it.
Each previous night she has lost her nerve but witnessing the Telling of The Tale earlier today has finally convinced her to go through with it. Before, Ri simply wanted to be free of her mother but now she knows she must free everyone else from her too.
On previous nights Ri has tangled herself up in anxious practicality. She needs her mother to be asleep and so must keep the room dark. If her mother wakes she will talk, commanding or cajoling, twisting Ri's mind until she is helpless to resist.
Without the light however, Ri cannot summon the terror that fuels her explosive executions. Even if she could, she's not sure she wants to. She is now so practiced at responding to her mothers ritualised words to release and restrain her murderous panic, she's frightened she won't be able to turn it off again afterwards without mother to command it.
How to do it then?
It must be done calmly and quietly yet quickly and definitely.
Ri doesn't care happens to her after. Patience will probably have The Seraphim execute her and Ri accepts this. She has murdered so many innocents that it only seems fair. The thought she cannot bear however, is to be caught after failing in the act. To die knowing that her mother remains and will continue to do all the terrible things she now does daily.
Pressing one of the many, carefully arranged cushions over her mother's face seems the most obvious way. Ri reaches out, feels the texture of the exquisite fabric beneath her fingers, grips it, lifts it.
She has never killed in cold blood before and even after all her mother has done, a part of Ri recoils, refuses, resists. Her chest tightens, her heart feels too big and beats too fast. Her mouth is dry, her palms are wet.
She raises a knee, begins to move onto the bed, pillow gripped in her hands, gaze fixed on her mother's face. She must do this now, no matter how it feels, no matter what it costs. She must. She must. She must.
But now there is movement, in the far corner of the room. A tiny red light is scurrying about on the ceiling and now the wall. It flits about as she watches, coming closer with small sounds of skittering. The light talks to her, speaking in pictures, telling of another way. Ri can be free. Everyone can be free, free and safe from her mother.
Ri looks to her mother one more time, questions the impact on her judgement of the cool relief flowing through her. Should she do it anyway? Just to be sure? But no, the little red light insists. It isn't necessary. There is another way. It's ok.
Slowly, carefully, Ri returns the pillow to it's proper place and retreats from the bed. As she turns to leave she realises that the red light has disappeared and suddenly panics, wondering if it was ever there at all. Then she recalls what it told her and the hope returns.
“Up we go,” she whispers.
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