Yesterday morning was okay. I cooked. I did the laundry. There was no black hole, or at least it wasn’t so deep I couldn’t do the basic things that needed to be done. And I felt very optimistic my black hole days were over.

The ease of yesterdy morning seduced me. Today, I discovered the black hole is still there, only it has a different flavour. Or a different colour. However you want to say it, it is not quite the same black hole anyway.

And I think it comes from a different trauma. It is not about Natalya’s death. It is about having to hurt her when she was alive.

The despair comes from my sense of powerlessness at having to do it, at the overwhelming pain I felt doing it, at the malignancy of a world in which such things must be done.

Charlie is the flip side of this despair. He felt the other side of the wall: the love for the person he had to hurt and the intense concentration of needing to do it in a way that minimized the physical and emotional damage of it. But someone felt the other side of the wall too. Someone felt, Please, don’t make me do this. Please, God. I do not want to do this. Let me stop. Let me say no. Let me die rather than do this thing. I do not want to do it. And I had to do it anyway. I had to quiet that voice and do what needed to be done. The voice remained on the other side of the wall.

I getit now from Hannah. I don’t know if she is the part that felt it then, or if the feeling is just being passed around and she is the one who happens to speak up. That is more or less what she says though.

I no want hurt Nata. I no like hurt Nata.

Which sounds very mild really. But she is frantic.