The Pacifist

Release

Joseph

Joseph needed to recenter himself after seeing Rachel. Her quiet voice and muted spark that was still clearly strong beneath the veil of insecurity, stirred old feelings inside of him that he felt, were best left in the past. With crossed legs he sat in the middle of his studio, opting to face away from the mirrors that lined the front wall this time. His eye were closed, but he didn't want to see his face in case he unwittingly opened them.

His insight on Rachel's empathy was due to him being an empath himself. And his greatest struggle, was the inability to lie to himself for he knew exactly how he felt and what he truly thought all the time. That was a catch he hadn't disclosed to the timid girl: Once one learns how to sort through all of the noise, you're left with your own.

He took deep breaths, imagining away the tension in his knuckles, the palms of his hands, his wrists, and then his arms and shoulders. They were wound up, aching for something he no longer indulged in, but this time, they were a bit more persistent. Like entities of their own, they too recognized the rare sweetness Rachel possessed, and they wanted to taste it.

Joseph shook the thoughts away. "No!" he said out loud. "I am a pacifist. I, am, a, pacifist." But there was no use. His hunger roiled in his belly like a rabid dog and there was only one thing that would silence it. He stood up angrily and left, locking his nondescript business door behind him and stalking down the stairs then out onto the street. The sun had set and it was a Thursday during the last bit of mild weather for the year, so the streets were busy. He dodged the carefree foot traffic, bristling every time some unsuspecting pedestrian got too close.

Him going out while so wound up was a bad idea, but staying in, alone with himself, was worse. So he barreled through the crowd and did his best to rein in the building aggression. Eventually, he escaped the downtown core and entered its outskirts where the mega wealthy, red brick homes were neighbors to the dilapidated forgotten ones and ill managed rooming houses. The flow of pedestrians thinned and afforded him some level of solitude. Aimlessly he continued on until he came to a stout building.

On the outside, it didn't look like much, but Joseph knew it held luxury, loft style apartments. He knew this, because he knew one of its tenants. Standing at the front door, he warred with himself. He had promised never to go back but he needed some sort of release, and the woman on the top floor could offer it. He hit the buzzer for her apartment.

"Hello?" came a confused voice from the intercom.

"It's me," grunted Joseph. He could picture her saccharine smile and the need to do whatever he could to wipe it off her face was fierce. The door buzzed open and he climbed the three flights up to her apartment. She was already waiting for him with the door wide open, naked and with a Cheshire smile on her lips, as he had suspected. She had thick, long red hair that hung just past her shoulders and green eyes that flashed with mischief. Her exposed curves were delicate, almost missing the mark of a boyish figure.

"I'm surprised you stayed away for so long," she said, the coy smile never faltering despite the pout in her voice.

"I promised to stop."

She rolled her eyes. "Still trying to deny what you are? What is it that you're trying to be? A pacifist is it?"she asked flippantly. There was no respect for his efforts to change, in fact, there was nothing but contempt and it made Joseph's blood boil. The aggression continued to grow within him and now with the promise of release, he allowed himself to enjoy the mounting pressure in his chest. He couldn't wait to rid her of that infuriating smile and hear her pitiful sobs, muted by his hand around her throat. He knew what she was doing, and it didn't make it any easier to stop her.