Catharsis

**Catharsis** is a book written by Tristan Metcalfe that can be found in the New Server Complex and WorldCorp HQ Sublevel.

## Text

### Page 1

Concern for wisdom had melted away as Justin strode down the damp and refuse cluttered alley. Concern for the future had withered away long before he found himself hunched into his jacket, hand massaging the metallic warmth of the silenced pistol, hidden from prying eyes within its pocket. Concern for consequences had never been factored in. Concern for morality had already been eliminated. By them. Concern for love, for the stuff of humanity was inconceivable to a shattered soul. Concern for revenge remained, embracing a spectral concern for justice. Concern for expression drove his legs to carry him onwards to the couple's run-down apartment; the fifth room on the third floor of a patchwork building that leaned on two sides against similar buildings that protruded from the slums scattered in the shadow of the spaceport.
The air was heavy from the previous hour's rain, a testimony secondary to the pools of water formed in the irregularities of the alleyway's tarmac; otherwise unnoticeable indentations where moss green water and browning litter now mingled. Eyes deadened beyond conveying thought or feeling, Justin kept his head down as he hurried past the mouth of an adjoining alleyway. A gang of prostitutes cackled and shouted in strained tones within. Somewhere within the miasma of artificial fragrances that wafted from them, Justin recognised the scent that she had favoured. He felt his knees loosen as his mind somersaulted lazily backwards. He slipped, caught himself. Kept walking.
*He thought of the urgency and joyousness he had felt as he had hurried out of the take-away that distant evening. Bundles of paper-wrapped food in his arms, he had so deeply feared missing midnight. The start of their year. So deeply thankful he had her to share so many moments with. And as he fretfully watched the minutes fall past on his watch, her lips had met with those of his friend. His hands had roamed where Justin's had some mere minutes before, and would roam again, in blissful ignorance, some minutes later. And that had not been the first, or most intimate of their encounters. In the alleyway, Justin quietly ignored the urge to wretch. In his memory, he ran up the pathway of the little suburban house and rang the doorbell with an eager grin.*"

### Page 2

*They had chosen an apartment with window access to the clumsy mass of ladders and metal stairs that served as a fire escape. Crouched flush to the wall, Justin cautiously strained his neck to survey the room behind him. The kitchen area. Unsurprisingly empty. He withdrew the Beretta from its pocket, the dull, black silencer throwing its weight slightly. He disengaged the safety, then placed the pistol on the mesh platform. Using both hands, he forced the rotting wood of the window frame upwards slowly, to avoid alerting the couple to his intrusion. When he had created an opening of sufficient size for him to pass through, he reclaimed the handgun and cocked the hammer with his thumb. He slid quietly through the window. As his feet touched the plastic flooring, he became aware of his heart. He felt flushed, his pulse steady but strengthening. He was used to much stronger sensations; those that debilitated him whenever he read one of the couple's smug, taunting messages. He no longer noted the absence of emotional sensation.*"

### Page 3

Floor tiles hard against his knees. Body racked by sobs that were neither audible nor otherwise visible. His flesh burned like ice. Throat parched and cracked spontaneously. Bile bubbled in his stomach, clawed his throat. Even in her sleep, she split him in two. Darkness grew heavy behind his eyes, became a veil over his mind. It had been her outward beauty that had drawn him to her, and it was only her outward beauty that remained of what he knew of her. On his feet again, he hung the silenced muzzle below her cheekbone. A final kiss to that face. She stirred.
He pulled the trigger twice, two shots ripping through the soft skin of her mouth. One blasted bone and blood from her jaw, both shattered teeth but spared the tongue. He fell back as she writhed, curdling screams ringing against the cramped walls. As the bloodied sheets fell away, Justin registered purple smudges on her arms and flank, a long scar across her breast. The imprint of a sovereign ring over her breast bone.
*Their eyes met in a brief moment of stillness. Terror, pain and confusion atop understanding. Her beauty was still manifest despite the disconnected jaw, the blood soaked face, the bruises and cuts. Justin raised the pistol again, his eyes closed. Concern for hatred was washed away by a crimson tide washing over an orange tile shore.*"