I just recently finished Berserk up to current chapters and this is my way of coping with the withdrawal. Standard disclaimers apply, of course.

Melt and Merge

Sometimes I would think about her.

Actually, I thought about her a lot, but that's not the part I'm talking about. I'm talking about the part where she was nude and pressed up against me and this time, she didn't pull away.

I try not to think about her too much.

Sometimes I think about the things she used to do.

I didn't really enjoy the bite of her flail. In fact, it hurt quite a bit. What I did enjoy was the way she trailed her fingers over the wounds on my chest and back, the raw and bleeding skin sensitive to her touch. After a while the two sensations had becomes so inter-related that I looked forward to the pain as only a prelude to the pleasure.

I try not to think about that too much either.

To say that I'm attracted to her or that I love her would be a mockery of the connection I have to her. People are often shocked that I have stayed with her for so many years, thinking she must be too difficult to handle.

I never even considered leaving her. It simply isn't even an option in my mind. She is so much a part of my life that without her I wouldn't even know where to begin.

On occasion I have toyed with the idea of telling her my relation to her. That thought is on the same page in my mind as the fantasy where I am tied at the wrists on my back and she towers over me, slowly peeling off my clothing. In that fantasy at the climax I call her 'sister'.

...As time passes I care less and less about the church's taboos, but I know that she cares. I would love to see what kind of expression she would have have on her face when she realized that she had become just as dirty as me. I suppose that makes me sick.

But no matter how many times I turn back to that page and grasp that fantasy in my hands, sticky and hot and alone, it will always just be a fantasy. In reality either bond would consume me entirely until there was nothing left of me but my connection to her. I can look at her as much as I like, but the moment she looks back is the moment I am forced to confront the reality of the situation.

If I become any closer to her than I am now I feel that I would no longer be myself, like I would only exist as an extension of her. The closer to her I become the more I realize that I have nothing to call my own where she has everything. As her brother or as her lover I would be too close. Anything more all-consuming than what I experience now I would never be able to handle. As her servant I am still too close: if I could I would become her shadow, following her and yet completely unnoticed.

I tell myself these things, and yet I am still covetous. I want to own her the way she completely possesses me. My eyes follow hers every time she glances at another, searching for meaning in the glance that may or may not be there. I think if she ever held her gaze in one place I would have to kill that person.

I don't know what I'll do this time if her gaze lands on me.