*WARNING: This story is NOT written to encourage psychopathy. It laments society's disregard of the misfortunates. It sublimes a much bigger purpose. Therefore, readers' discretion is advised.
I am a monster. An insatiable beast with a constant type of hunger that will never be satisfied with any distinct taste of meat in his mouth. A beast that only desires but could never own much of anything. All he can do is to take and take and take and he'll never keep what he took. He never adores what he had. He only adores the chase; the rush of wanting; the effort of taking what he desires. 'Desire' is after all, different than 'want'.
It is my desire to see the painting once again. The painting that had cursed me. The only painting that will liberate me. But do I want to be liberated? As I said, 'desire' is different than 'want'. 'Desire' is much like lust. There's no powerful cause to it. There's no mind to it. But 'want' is full with reasoning and logic. Wanting makes sense. Desire does not. At least that's how I see it. I don't drown myself in dictionary wordings. I propel myself with my own philosophies which of course, would be different than others'.
The moment I stepped foot in the manor, I already can feel it. Its' blackened evil air that fill the corridors and hallways in its' invisible form. I knew that it was there. I knew that the painting lives in this house. It breeds evil wherever it goes. It lures madness wherever it hides. And this manor is mixed with all that. It is filled with filth. I must find that painting. I can't let it win. It knows me. It knows what I am. It belongs to me. It can set me free.
The manor, somehow, reminds me of an estate I had once visited where I met a lady of rare beauty. Her name was Olivia. Such beauty that inspired me to violate and to destroy. It was my utmost pleasure to have corrupted her and the rest of her descendants. They are forever bound to my evil. I planted that seed of evil in them and they had grown into beautiful sinful flowers. An eternal malevolent.
“Mr. McGroy, please be seated,” the butler ushered me to a seat in the grand study room which belonged to Victor Klaus. “Mr. Klaus will join you in a moment,” he indicated and left me alone in the room. Silence accompanies me as I let myself be lost in my own thoughts. I can hear the music of the wind coming from the open window. There's a garden outside. Its' view is magnificent. I'm trying to memorize the colors and the positions of the items in it, imagining it on a canvas. This is something that I would want to lie down in a canvas. Something in the view caught my attention which had made the view even more captivating. There, in the distance, one has to strain ones' eyes to truly notice of the almost unmoving figure of a boy with dark hair, white piece of clothing, sitting on a white-colored wheelchair, admiring the view of the vast mountain behind the garden. I can't see his face. I can only see the outline of his back. I lick my lips, wondering who the boy is. What a wonderful view of beauty in deformity. That boy, to me, is beautiful.
Strangely, I wasn't aware of Klaus family having anyone with such deformity in their household. A son of one of the servants, perhaps? It doesn't matter. A beast like me has found its' prey. Smiling slightly to myself, I can help but to say aloud, “interesting...” In my head, I am already violating him. I am his savior. I'll set him free from this filthy world.
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