The Autobiography Of An Alien

Chapter 35 - Guilt

Draft #240

I'll kill them. I'll kill all of them. They'll all die so, so painfully and then I'll be -

Draft #241

I don't know how to help him. My poor, precious Kohgrash -

Draft #242

I was too slow I was too slow I should've been at least three steps back and I could have reached further than I had because Kohgra

***

There is nothing to say about the sticky horrors of grief.

Well, there can be something to say about it. In Rulshkka's opinion, it is the worst emotion one could ever experience. Ever.

However, he thought as he peered into Kohgrash's barren room and saw nothing but a lump on the bed, perhaps even it could not compete against watching someone struggle through it.

"Come, Kohgrash. Dinner's ready," Rulshkka said, striving for normalcy as much as he could. He wanted nothing more than to scoop Kohgrash up and hug him until all of his grief left him.

"Eat later," Kohgrash said. At least he was speaking now. After his sire's funeral, he had gone quiet. He hadn't even uttered a word at the burial.

"Please. Thruul's made your favorite: mac and cheese!"

Silence for a while, then two eyes peered at him from beneath the blankets. "Shaped like alien animals?" he asked hopefully.

Rulshkka nodded, pleased. "Thruul made their heads especially big so you can bite them off."

Kohgrash didn't eat much, but he was somewhere that wasn't his bed, at least. The entire apartment was barren, Oskar's things packed up nearly in boxes. When Kohgrash had the energy - often in the middle of the night when no one was around - he'd rummage through his father's things, clutching a most abnormal thing to his chest like a lifeline. Some days, it'd be a shirt, and Kohgrash would press his face into the fabric, shoulders shaking. Other days, it'd be a photograph, set on the table and stared at until Kohgrash finally gave into exhaustion.

When he could, Rulshkka would quietly usher Kohgrash onto the couch or somewhere comfortable, speaking lowly to him about nothing and everything. It rarely took his mind off things - he still often had that blank look in his eye - but Rulshkka thought it would help, if only a little.

Sometimes, Kohgrash would lash out at him or Thruul, shouting to just leave him alone. It was only because he was so deep in despair that he did not attack them, though he did push their hands away if they tried to touch him.

Unsurprisingly, it was Vi'mrakka holding this entire thing together.

The hatchling was strangely empathetic. Rulshkka didn't know if this was his nature or if it was something to do with the Spirits, but he always seemed to know how someone was feeling. Often, when Rulshkka would check in on Kohgrash, Vi'mrakka would start whining and sniffling.

"Daddy's helping Kohgrash, dewdrop. He's very sad right now," Thruul told him. Vi'mrakka hiccuped into what would soon be a wail.

"Ohras," he whimpered. When Rulshkka glanced back, he saw the hatchling's arms outstretched toward the door.

"My son wants his favorite person," he told Kohgrash slyly. The human didn't move. His grin dropped from his face.

After prodding and pleading with the human to get up - he's been in bed for almost a week, now - it was only Vi'mrakka's mournful wailing and repeated cries of Ohras that got the young man from his bed. His shoulders were slumped and his face had a permanent glassy look, but he was on the couch and that was enough.