The Religion of Death (Part 2)

Claire was worried by how easily David had intruded upon their home and won (he certainly had not earned) the trust of the children while at the same time had undoubtedly listened to the request of their father… well, he was their father in spirit if not in body and genes, anyway.

She closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly overcome. The guilt of her adultery haunted Claire constantly, but she found her husband’s blind, emotionless acceptance of it to be more disturbing in its own way. Like he didn’t care that she’d been unfaithful. Not a day went by that she did not regret her acts, the moments of weakness when she’d required tenderness, but he certainly didn’t help things either, driving her away again and again when she tried to get close to him. Even their lovemaking wasn’t the same anymore; it was passionate but now it was about them sharing the moment and not about their feelings. She didn’t know how long they had been like that, quite a while she sadly suspected.

He pushed her away in many ways, just as he did now, preparing to die without even telling her.

With her eyes closed, she found it easier for her thoughts to settle. Just as she had weaknesses, so did he. His moments of despair did not deserve her blame; her pity, yes, but not her blame. It was the Executioner who called to him, spoke about the wonders of Heaven with the voice of Satan. It was David she should hold responsible, she knew, not her husband; it might have been her husband who had made the request, but it would be the Executioner who would take him away from them… from her…

How could such a cruel act be considered good and honourable? How could it not be considered as outright slaughter? After all, Slaying was still taking life, was still killing, no matter which way you looked at it. How could justice ever exist when creatures like these Executioners escaped the consequences of the crimes of manslaughter and murder?

Claire sighed and forced her eyes open again. Her husband had appeared silently and was watching the monster play with their children, his expression showing no concern. Seduced by the words of David, he saw the lie of normality when just beneath the surface was the truth, accompanied by the planted seed of chaos. Worse, he accepted what he saw without question. But of course the attractive option was always easier to believe than the truthful one. History was full of that.

Annoyed, Claire rose and brushed past him, not wanting to support the lie a moment longer.

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Chandler felt his wife walk by him, a small whirlwind, dark with an anger he didn’t truly share or understand; the expression she shot him as she went by was a mixture of scorn and pity.

He sighed quietly to himself when she was well out of earshot, careful not to disturb David and Todd. Whilst he could certainly feel her anger, and knew she was right to be angry, he had hoped some kind of understanding might have found its way into her heart. He’d known Claire all his life, they often thought and acted as one. If anyone could have but a small slice of empathy for his wishing for the end, Chandler thought that it would be her.

Apparently even she could not get over her loathing of Executioners to give him that. Despite her weaknesses of the flesh, she was a good wife and mother and friend; but it saddened him that beneath it all, even with the closeness they shared, she was no different to anyone else.

Then again, neither was he, really. Before the escalation of his problems he too, in truth, had possessed the common hatred of Executioners. But now that he understood them a little better he looked upon them differently. Now that they were his last hope for a final peace, he accepted the Executioners themselves, if not their beliefs. Various Beliefs and Atheism taken to the extreme, that was the human society amongst the stars. That was the Confederation of Worlds.