Eighteen years of miserable embarrassment gnawed at K’hvoriz Karosorihn from the inside working outward, rewiring his mind such that it held a great dispensation to hate and vileness.
He was the third generation in his family to carry the given name K’hvoriz, and with the imposition of the same name, his family signalled its high expectations, expectations of which he failed to live up to in their eyes by not being a strong patriarch. His failure to meet their expectations caused his family to walk away.
Not just his parents and siblings walked away, he might have handled that part well enough. No, their reaction followed his wife of three years deciding to flee with their two-year-old daughter, disappearing without a trace.
His wife claimed K’hvoriz was abusive, but in his mind, just as he viewed most women, she was lazy and did not like his prodding her to live up to her daily responsibilities within their marriage. Marriage carried distinctive roles, and hers was to have children, have sex when he wished, and tend to their home. It was not to seek employment outside the home and make use of childcare, or expect him to come home from work *and* assist her in doing household chores.
In K’hvoriz’ view, Arrhazonan men should not do household chores; moreover, his dad made that clear to him from the moment he showed interest in dating women. His dad was right, and once married, K’hvoriz immediately moved to assert himself as dominant master of his home.
Except Sorella would not cooperate, her interest focused on pursuing a legal career – a legal career. The very thought of a woman in a profession that would laugh the moment she addressed any legal issue sickened him, not out of any empathy for her, but rather for the embarrassment it would bring to him.
Initially, in the first few months, Sorella listened to what he said, but over time, her objections grew louder and bolder. K’hvoriz recalled when she first stood defiant and unyielding, her eyes blazing with anger as she flat out refused to do as he asked. Takahla was 1 year old at the time, and he needed to demonstrate who was in charge.
Imposing the physical lesson on Sorella, the child screamed along with her mother, but it would have been a good lesson in her own future obeisance, had that witch not taken off with his child.
K’hvoriz conceded that with the last incident before Sorella left, well, maybe he did go too far, but his actions were not out of anger, his actions were out of love, and it was essential he demonstrate that she must respect his authority. He beat her for an hour, and as her defiance grew, so too had his level of violence – she had to be broken for this defiance to end.
He never expected her to fight back, an active challenge to his station that moved beyond defiance to open challenge of his authority in their household. He would not tolerate anyone questioning his authority.
K’hvoriz assumed the severe beating put an end to her attempt to gain authority; after all, he left her face a hodgepodge of shades of flesh, purple, black, and blue. When he left for work that morning she was a quivering mess, cowering and whimpering in a corner of their bedroom.
Returning that night, he searched the home, finding Sorella had left with some of her things, things that meant she left for more than a day. Along with her personal possessions, many of their daughter’s things were gone as well.
“I knew then,” he thought now, looking back. K’hvoriz sat in the living room of what was Khaehala’s home – was – he now claimed it as his own. Sitting in an overstuffed, khaki and flower-patterned chair, his mind continued scrolling through past memories, stopping long enough to realise the initial embarrassment when his family found out Sorella had left him.
Most painful was the memory of how, after it was apparent she actively hid from him, K’hvoriz’ father disowned him with the caveat ‘unless you can find a way to get her back and straighten this mess out’.
Aghast that he his family cut him off from them – and his inheritance – he looked in every way he knew how to find Sorella, but it was as if she disappeared off planet; he found nothing.
After a year, he backed away, though every six months or so he would feel the embarrassment and anger kick in again, sending him onto the Athenaeum for a frantic round of new searching for Sorella and Takahla, each time with no success.
Eighteen years passed, with K’hvoriz abandoning all hope years before. Home from work one night, he followed his usual ritual and sat down to watch the news on his full-wall media screen, news that the radical whore musician Arrhazon distastefully revered was not dead but alive, living on the Arrkarharan world.
A rescue mission was underway, and K’hvoriz dropped his beer when he saw video of the team sent to bring her back. There was his daughter Takahla on the team, he was certain of it. Media referred to her as ‘a childhood friend of llhaesa t’yaeli’, and that made sense; his wife would undoubtedly find a connection to such a well-known feminist troublemaker.
This Chsensera – the given name of Sorella’s grandmother – looked just like Sorella. A bit of research based on the name Chsensera Khaehala A’hrlae led to the physical trail, one sought in vain for almost two decades, right to Sorella’s current home address.
Waiting and choosing not strike right away, K’hvoriz calculatedly planned his next action. He preferred to know what she commonly did, where she worked, whom she interacted with in her daily life. When the time came to reassert control, he would know where she would turn if she ran again.
He had a chance now to be a hero to the men of Arrhazon, at once taking back his rightful place in society and at the same time ridding the world of that heretic feminist provocateur musician.
Sorella was shocked when she saw K’hvoriz, and as before, petulantly fought him, requiring yet another level of force to subdue her. The broken arm she sustained was healing, and it served as a constant reminder he would kill her before allowing her to get away again.
With Sorella’s bank account, that of Takahla’s government salary, and the wonderful and unexpected bonus of the trust account established in her name by the musician, K’hvoriz quit his employment. The trust fund alone had assets well in seven figures, and it was an easy matter to get her to release authority over the account to him; from 484 trillion miles away, the child was powerless to do anything else to help her mum.
“The universe has a way of correcting a wrong,” he thought, believing that his good fortune in coming across this reserve of money was a signal he was on the right path, reasserting patriarchy, at least in one home, on a world that had lost its way.
Masked with a smile, he lounged in their living room drinking beer after beer, basking in the memory of how he cleverly triumphed over his bitch wife. It was probably too late to save his child from carrying her mum’s attitude and outlook, but that was ok in the end, she paid dearly financially.
“Your breakfast is ready, K-whore,” she called out, her words once again defiant and laden with hate, disrupting his dream of patriarchal familial perfection with yet another feeble display of effrontery to his authority.
“You ask for yet another beating, Sorella?”
May the Goddess of Light enlighten you in this life, K-jerk. In the meantime, I will refer to you as I damn well wish. You can beat me to death; I no longer care what you do to me.
You can bet that it is a matter of time before you are hunted and made to pay for what you do to me.”
“Who exactly will make me pay, Sorella? Do you refer to yourself, or do you expect our daughter to miraculously reappear on Arrhazon?”
“Sooner or later authorities will find out. The Arrkarharan team is due back next summer, and you can count on your demise at that time!”
“I suppose you believe that whore musician will arrive and save your arse? Perhaps it is time to share with you that two days ago I instructed Takahla to um, see to her untimely end, in order to spare you from death?”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh yes, indeed I did.”
“Chsen would never do that, she loves llhaesa.”
“Even if it means doing as I request saves her mum? Such hard choices we face in life, Sorella.
You embarrassed me eighteen years ago by leaving and taking my child with you. Imagine how you brought all this about by running. Had you stayed, none of the side issues would be necessary.”
“Llhaesa is no side issue; she is my friend and she is Chsen’s friend. Secondly, if I had not run, you would not have millions at your disposal. What Chsen has dwarfs that pittance you expected to inherit from your family.
You are a coward; you hide behind your daughter and me, striking at someone who has done so much good for this world. Moreover, you do this because you cling to some warped illusion of manhood that does not exist, or if it ever did, Arrhazon has long since passed it by.
If ‘essa were here she would kick your sorry arse from here to Old City if she saw you lay a hand on me.
How long do you think you can get away with this before someone shows up here? I cannot feign sickness to my partners for much longer.”
K’hvoriz gave a smile that represented his belief he was in full control. “No need to, you resigned. I sent your resignation in the same day I asked Takahla to murder that bitch musician.”
You didn’t!”
“Oh, I did, Sorella. We have more than enough financial stability.
By the way, Takahla did not go to the musician; not forty five minutes ago, llhaesa sent a music file of a children’s song she recorded to her parents in law.”
Khaehala fell into a chair, despair overcoming and taking control of her mind. Pulling her feet up onto the chair, she curled up on a ball, blocking out the world.
K’hvoriz sensed he won, and left her be – for now. Arrhka set to the west, and they were an hour past dinner, there were no chores for his wife to see to at that moment.
This was his family again, finally. Relishing the thought, confident in his newly established kingdom, he left Khaehala to sleep in the chair, and went to bed.
Four hours later, the lamp on the dresser illuminated, and K’hvoriz assumed Sorella, now broken and compliant, decided to join him in his bed. He sat up, a smile already displayed as part of his expression of victory, but as his eyes adjusted, he realised there were six others in the room, all clad in similar beige coloured clothing.
“Uniforms,” his mind identified, at the same time as six very menacing looking weapons took aim directly at him, at near point blank range.
“Sir, please get out of the bed slowly; lie down face first on the floor, hands clasped behind your head.”
K’hvoriz was too shocked to move.
Officer Oalraesa M’sura repeated her order. “On the floor sir, face down, hands clasped behind your head. Now.”
His mind shaking off sleep, K’hvoriz realised that three of the six officers in the room were women. Choosing to comment rather than follow the instruction given, he remarked, “I cannot believe we allow you whores to hold down a job in a profession once the exclusive and honourable province of men.”
Officer M’sura moved quicker than K’hvoriz eyes could follow and warn the remainder of his being. Not realising the attack until too late, his next conscious thought found that he lay on the floor face down and naked, his hands violently jerked behind his back and electronically tethered.
“I would have got down, I was still waking up.”
“Yes, well, you got me out of bed through your hostage taking, so consider us even, arse hole.”
Just then, Khaehala walked into the room, an officer in plain clothes gently holding her arm, acceding to Khaehala’s wish to see the defeated attacker who haunted her through life.
Dropping to her knees just to the front of K’hvoriz as she faced him, she began to speak, her voice calm, her words slow and soft.
“I am sorry, K’hvoriz. Sorry your parents raised you to believe as you do; sorrowful you allowed those lessons to consume you such that they ruled your life. Sad you could not let go, and returned to harm me yet again.
I could handle you, and the truth is, you are no match for me, not in life, not in strength of mind, you only have physical strength, and now that is neutralised. Your daughter is a thousand times the human being you are, and you know what I just learned?
Captain M’serlah informed me moments ago your daughter went to llhaesa and Jahrae, informing them you held me hostage, and that you asked her to kill llhaesa in order to save her mum.
You, such a clever engineer, hah! That music file you saw sent to Jahrae’s parents from llhaesa. All a ruse designed to get them onto a protected Athenaeum site, giving all the details of what you do here and ask of your daughter. Jahrae’s parents notified the police, and here they are.” Finishing what she wished to say, Khaehala climbed up on her feet, standing over K’hvoriz, unmoving.
Captain M’serlah, watching Khaehala carefully, turned and spoke to the six officers in the room. Would you all please observe the entryway for a moment? There is something I wish to call your attention to as an important lesson on future assignments.”
No sooner had all diverted their attention towards the doorway than a loud snap and subsequent bloodcurdling scream filled the room. The officers, each of whom possessed lightning quick reflexes, turned as one toward the source of the scream, their weapons pointing toward where they looked. They saw only Khaehala impassively standing over K’hvoriz, as she was before they turned.
Curiously, K’hvoriz’ right arm was twisted horribly out of shape, a clean break of the radius and ulna forearm bones evident.
