The Skeleton In Me

Chapter Thirty-eight

I could write a whole book solely in Cousin's POV

he thinks in a way that is satisfying to write

also merry christmas 

Chapter Thirty-eight

Cousin's POV

Cousin did understand. Bexley wanted him away from Mr. Father because she didn't like the way he was treated in the circus.  She was angry at him because he wants to go back. She thinks he likes the circus.

Bexley was wrong, though. She usually is.

It was never the beatings that Cousin hated, or the chains wrapped around his body that kept him up at night. He often found himself longing for the routine of the circus. Perform, be punished, sleep. The routine was his idol, a religion, even. Cousin had heard about God before by some missionary who preached at the circus, right outside his boxcar. God, a creator of everyone and everything; to Cousin, this was interesting. Profound information that he had once been created, he was no accident, he was a creation, a creation by a being so cruel not even the darkest hatred in Cousin's heart could relate.

Cousin knows of god, his god. The missionary said that God is love, and love, to Cousin, is expectancy; it is routine. Knowing someone so well that you are acutely aware of their next move, that is love. So, therefore, the circus was god. Routine is god's love. 

But Cousin doesn't want god's love. If the circus is god, then he has no need for god. If Mr. Father was god's love, then Cousin hated god.

So, Cousin decided he wants to kill god, just like he killed the dog.

Growing up, Cousin was always told that he was valuable. He was the heart of the circus. The money-maker. Without him, nobody would want to come. This gave Cousin a sliver of arrogance. Not because he was delusional enough to believe that he was wanted, but because he was not stupid enough to think his existence in the circus was nothing. 

God  -the circus-, needed him, the money maker. If Mr. Father needed him so badly, what is stopping him from going back? 

When Bexley was gone all day doing whatever it was that she does, Cousin was brought back to his lonely nights on the train, in his boxcar of solitude. The quiet brought out the imaginary, and what comes with imaginary is longing.

Cousin, longed for something, but he wasn't too sure what it was. He used to think he longed to die, but now, that didn't seem so satisfying. To put it simply, he was too angry to die.

He imagined being hit again, being hosed down by the cold water as a 'bath'. The physical feeling that came from such acts made him feel emotional things. Contentment, or maybe as close to comfort as he could possibly get. 

Cousin wasn't sure what it was that he wanted. The hate in his body sometimes seems too strong for him to handle. The constant smashing he did with that stone against the skull of the dog, that relieved him of a bundle of hatred, but it wasn't enough.

Holding Bexley's hand, squeezing it within his own, that relieved even more hatred. So, what is the solution? He can't think of it. Touching Bexley unnerved him physically. Hurting someone who isn't himself, well, that unnerves him emotionally.

Bexley thinks that he related her to Mr. Father. That was true. She was so much like him it sometimes relieved him. Other times, though, she was so emphatically different he wanted to never leave her side, and runaway all at once.

He told her that she's being hunted, she tried to say that they both were being hunted, but that is not the case.

Cats do not hunt other cats, they hunt the mice, and Cousin had never been the mouse.