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“Shut up!” I whisper through gritted teeth, my heart pounding, my head spinning, my fingers releasing.
A tear drips from her long lashes and slides down her cheek and I can’t help but lean in close so I can lick it from her skin. It tastes of broken things, of shattered hearts and quiet suffering.
Something inside my chest hurts. Ithurtsso bad I want to rip open my own rib cage and pull out whatever it is… and yet, like a drug, her fear makes me shake with power. It fuels the monster. It feeds the need I have to destroy and annihilate, to crush and break, to throttle and squeeze, tokill. I am my father’s greatest weapon, moulded into a tool used for pure evil, to harm, to destroy, just like he taught me. I’ve always obeyed his orders.
I’ve killed. I’ve ruined. I’ve crushed.
And once upon a time Isaved.
That wasn’t you. You are not that weak, good for nothing boy. You’re a monster now, and monsters kill. Kill. Her.
“Shut up!” I grind out, louder now. My fingers tighten then loosen, tighten then loosen as I battle with myself, with these thoughts, with these feelings that are both abhorrent and alien.
Kill her. End this,he snarls inside my mind.
Why won’t he leave me alone? Even after death my father still haunts me. Like a worm feasting on the rotten meat of my blackened heart, he lives within me. I used to be okay with that.
I used to pride myself in the fact that a piece of him was alive in me… But now? Now I’m not so certain.
This is wrong!
This is who you are. Fucking kill her!
“Iam the master of her fate.Ihold her life in my hands,” I say out loud, not understanding why I feel the need to do that, but doing so anyway.
It isn’t her mother who sent a letter from beyond the grave who has the power to persuade me to stop.
Not Jakub who stands behind me waiting for me to end this.
Not Konrad who vibrates with a need so strong he’s desperate for her last breath so he can fulfil his fantasies and bring her back to life.
Not my father whose ghost haunts me daily.
Iam in control.
I canchoose.
Let her live, end her life.
Live or die.
Right and wrong.
Good and evil.
Monster and angel.
Who am I?
Nought draws in a shaky breath, still alive, still pleading with her eyes.
She can’t fight back.
She can’t cut me with her words.
She can’t strip me bare with her courage.
She can’t hurt me with her pity or her hate.
