(CN - violent intrusive thoughts)

The bungalow where Nathan and Kathrine lived with their - Nathan’s really, Nathan’s and his first wife, Elizabeth, whose dead eyes still shined through Lizzie’s smile, a memory of what was lost - daughter Lizzie was cosy. It had to be: the stream of souls coming to help was all but endless - all those continuous lost souls, the people who needed help, their downcast faces, their injuries and pain, a reminder of all the endless, endless ills in the world, a reminder of all that was wrong with the universe and all that was unsettled.

Nathan put the kettle on - the steam rising from the boiling water, the searing heat of it, the power to hurt - and then turned it off again gritting his teeth against the thoughts that forced their way into his head - the thoughts that insisted and were so much more powerful than him, the thoughts that he would one day submit to, as inevitable as the end of the world.

He turned his mind to the books in front of him. As a doctor, there was so much he could do to help people - and so much that he couldn’t - and he was determined to do his duty. He spent a time reading and going through accounts, making plans, putting his organisational skills to good use - well, as good a use as he could, for he wasn’t as competent as he thought, for all those who told him he helped were lying, for there was, all in all, very little point to anything.

He slammed the book shut, breathing heavily. A loss of control, pathetic really. The door clicked shut. Kathrine stood there, removing her coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door, smiling at him brightly. He smiled in return even as doubt appeared in his head that she was true, for how could it be true that anyone as wonderful as Kathrine could love anyone as awful as Nathan —

Kathrine looked towards their kitchen, towards the book that Nathan had just shut and, after exchanging a few words, went to make tea. She handed him a mug with a firm and steady hand, kissed him gently.

Despair knocked. Nathan slammed the door in its face.