Misconceptions and Control
By Siadea Kanche

Misconceptions: Tantomile

I hate him.
Cats ask if weíre twins, friends, or even mates.
None of the above.
Heís an abomination; freak of nature born from a test tube
filled with my blood.

ďLetís see if we can clone a cat.Ē

He was what happened.
An accident, freak, atrocity.
Even those who created him could not understand him.

ďWhy is he male? We cloned a female!Ē

Endless queries, invasions of privacy,
all of that changed nothing.
Whatever he was, he was not me.
Not even close.
He had all of my abilities, but nothing to control them.
The humans said he was normal, for all he was not me.
I knew better. No mind, no control.
Nothing to control his abilities.

What was I to do?
I had to take over his body; his mind that was so blank.
Had to do it. No other way.
He was too dangerous, and my kind canít kill.
(Itís one of the reasons I hate my powers sometimes.
Killing him would have been a wonderful way out.)

I named him.
In some strange way, he is my son.
Is that why I felt so responsible?

I named him.
Maybe I thought it would give him some sort of identity.
(Coricopat. Not a bad name.)

I couldnít stay at the lab.
It just wasnít an option,
not with two bodies to feel pain with.

I left.
Donít ask me how I did it.

I needed help though;
Couldnít manage by myself.

I tried releasing control of him.
Once.
A maelstrom.
Like a kitten, not knowing how or what to do,
but a kit as powerful as me.
I couldnít leave him.
Still canít.
I wish I could.

I joined a tribe.
They still think weíre twins.

Weíre not.
I hate him.

Control: Coricopat

I hate her.
Sheís my jailer,
my mother,
my keeper.

I donít remember being born, having any sort of childhood.
She remembers me being born from a test tube;
aging faster than she does.
I know Iím not natural.

StillÖ Should she deny me life, because of that?
She says, often, that Iím not her.
Then why does she force me to be her?
(No, thatís not right. She doesnít allow me to be me!
Itís MY body, not hers!
But she took it,
and I canít take it back.)

I wish she knew I was here.
She doesnít.
Iíve heard her thinking.
She doesnít know I know what she thinks.
She doesnít know Iím here.
I wish she did.
Would she be so cruel if she knew Iím me?

I rememberÖ
Not being born, not exactlyÖ
But I remember realizing that I was me.

I remember that she let me go once.
I remember that I was younger then,
I was scared to be free.
I tried to be in control,
but I couldnít.

I didnít know how.
She was always controlling me.
I never got a chance
to even try and do
what she did to be in control.

She took control of me again,
rendered me into a mute passenger in my own body
for the second time!

And I couldnít stop her.
She always thinks that Iím as powerful as she is.
Iím not, not if I canít even be in control of
my
own
body.

Sheís my jailer,
my mother,
my keeper.
I hate her.


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