I wanted to reach for the blade like I had every night for the last year, but Ronald’s touch stopped me. I couldn’t clasp it with his heart beat pounding so close to me. I wanted to be angry and reach through the ether once again stabbing and slicing Dahila.
From the first moment, I found my hand around the hilt I knew I could strike anyone I wanted. Anywhere. So I reached out and sliced her. One thousand and eighty three miles away, she woke up with a panic attack, screaming. Night after night, just before the darkness dies I would reach out, find it and strike. It was a stupid and petty thing to do. It was a cruel thing to do, but one that made me smile down to my soul. I could hurt her like she had hurt me. I could make her suffer.
Of course, my crime was intentional and karmic very unhealthy. It was a crime. No delusions or justifications there. One unintentional act that harms another does not merit the damage I caused each time I took up the blade. And yet, I did it again and again.
The knife was a gift from the universe, one of many treasures hidden in the Akashic records. Not everyone can touch it. Not everyone should touch it. Why I was the recipient of such a blessing, I didn’t know? And I wasn’t questioning it. I liked the blade. Loved the way it moved when I sliced her. It felt good. I woke up happy. Not depressed and full of sorrow.
Then Ronald came to stay and I had a hard time pushing through the ether to touch it. Sometime I would have it in my hand and it would slip away as he moved into cuddle. It is hard to be a revengeful soul when a puppy wants attention.
Ronald, I love you, but tomorrow you are getting a crate.