A Different Path

Toy

"Elder Brother?"

Duryodhana looked up to find Dushasan standing in the doorway, carrying a plate of food in his hands. Duryodhana's face softened, and he drew in his legs so his brother could sit beside him on the divan. Dushasan placed the tray on the nearby oak table, watching Duryodhana intently.

After a few minutes of silence, Duryodhana sighed. "What do you want, Dushasan?"

"You're still taking those herbs, aren't you?"

Duryodhana gritted his teeth, enraged at his brother's repetitive questions that always had the same bloody answer. Apparently, one fine day he was magically supposed to let go of one of the few things in his godawful life that made existence possible for him. Duryodhana wanted to laugh at these absurd notions that Dushasan harboured. Yeah, no, he was not going to stop. He had no reason to do so. Life was nothing but pure torture for him now. He deserved some mercy. Even if it came at a cost.

"They are not good for you. Surely you know that."

His nails were sinking into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks, a characteristic sign of his volcanic anger. "Is this your new hobby, Dushasan? Stating the obvious?"

"You must stop this. Otherwise.....otherwise..."

Dushasan didn't complete that sentence and Duryodhana didn't ask him to. They both knew what was coming. They had had this conversation a hundred times before.

"Brother, this is not healthy. You cannot continue to live like this"

I don't want to continue to live!

He yelled in the deep recesses of his mind. He wanted to join his brothers. He wanted it all to end. He was done.

"This just isn't like you."

Duryodhana shook his head, feeling immensely fatigued all of a sudden. Here it was again. Those same arguments. What did his family think? That he was some idiot who didn't know what he was doing? Just because he was mourning and still hadn't come to terms with his brothers' death didn't mean that he had lost his goddamn mind. He knew what he was doing. Heck, every day in the morning he made a resolution to stop and by the time the moon had graced the sky, the promise was long broken. Every day, he whispered that tomorrow is when he would stop. No more of this. He would be stronger.

But vines of addiction are fraught with impossible enticement that appealed to his grief-stricken heart, bringing an assuaging numbness from the excruciating pain. He was not strong enough to resist its temptations when the alternative was so dreary and repulsive. He was fully aware of the consequences, heck, he embraced them. Like a leaf caught in the wind, he too was drifting some place with no control over himself. Duryodhana realised he didn't mind that much. The world could go to hell now.

"Anyway, the reason I came here is different. We have to do something about Mother."