psycho

2.

We are the Takahashi family.

We are beautiful and strong.

We never falter.

We are never weak.

We do not allow conflicting emotions.

We must fool the fools who think they're fooling us.

We must do everything for the sake of power.

My name is Akahana Takahashi. I am eighteen and the eldest child of three. My parents sold me to a man in his fifties so that my family can inherit his wealth. They never contacted me ever since and left me as a toy for someone else to play with.

My name is Akahana Takahashi. I am expected to cast aside my feelings in this matter. I am expected to share a bed with a dirty man. I am expected to let my husband touch me as he pleases. I am expected to act like a lap dog in this house. I am expected to expose as much skin as possible against my will. I am expected to do everything for the sake of power. I am expected to stay silent.

My name is Akahana Takahashi. I never falter and never appear weak. I stand tall and beautiful. Rich, golden hair. Sapphire eyes. Porcelain skin. Square chin. Wide smile. And I stand by that. However, I will do one thing nobody expects me to do.

Kill my so-called husband.

I swing the axe in my hand like a madwoman when I walk back to the bedroom. I'm going to end things today. Now. Forever. I'm going to blood stain these perfect hands of mine, and I wouldn't care at all. Let the Takahashi family see my name on the news. Let it taint their good name. Let it be a threat.

I stand by the bedside, gripping the handle of the axe. My breathing becomes ragged, and my fingers tremble a little. I feel the beads of sweat drench my back, and suddenly, my feet are cold. I grit my teeth, bone on bone. For a moment, I watched this pathetic fool. The way he sleeps. The sound of his snore. His heavy breathing. The more I watch, the angrier I become.

"Wake up, you pig." I snarl, contempt lining my lips. I lift my foot and kick him as harshly as I can. I do it again, and he rolls off the bed, hitting the wooden floor with a loud thud. He yelps and slowly rises up, his eyes squinting. Then I see it. I see the fear painted on his eyes as he widens them. His eyes fixate themselves on the axe in my hand.

"You..you..! What the hell are you doing, you absolute psycho?" He screams, his nails clawing the floor as he scrambles backward.

"Psycho? That hurts. I thought I was your pretty doll." I mock. I smile. I smile the wide smile people always loved to see. The smile I had to wear in that stupid wedding ceremony.

I take slow, deliberate steps towards him. I taunt him by giggling and swinging the axe back and forth carelessly. He backs against the wall, whimpering like a wounded dog.

"You really think I'll put up with all that you've done?" I tilt my head innocently, "people like you deserve to rot, don't you think?"

"You know nothing!" He defends himself but immediately bites his tongue when I inch closer.
"Ha.." my laugh comes off as harsh, bitter, "you make me sick. You really think I don't know what you do every night? Was it fun going to that brothel?"

"Shut up--"

I swing my axe a centimeter above his hairline. A threat.

"Listen here," I inch my face closer to his, my eyes narrowed to thin slits, "I've had it with you. I will chop you up into good pieces if you continue to sprout nonsense, so be a good dog and listen to what I say if you want to live."

His face turns pale, and he looks so weak that he might faint anytime, but he nods. He nods reluctantly. His body trembles against the wall, and his lips part to speak, but he immediately seals them, almost knowing that each word he utters will cost his life.

"Where are your cash savings?" I whispered. The words hung in the air, swinging like knife blades.

"It's..It's..in the living room. There's a box tucked under the sofa." His lips quivered. His face turned pale under the moonlight, and his body wouldn't stop trembling. Beads of sweat roll down his neck.

"Hmm..is that all?" I raised an eyebrow.
"There's...there's another box on top of the cupboard." He shakily points a finger at the top of the cupboard.

I didn't say anything and straightened my back. I look around the room and think, 'well that money should be enough. Now, how should I get rid of his soon to be dead body?'

Then, the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I impulsively swing the axe towards the old man's right arm and chop it off. His arm dangled in an awkward angle, and he let out a blood-curdling scream as the floor began to cover up with a non stop flow of blood. He rolled his eyes backward in pain as he gripped his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Then, he bent over and let out a harsh, stifled yell.

"You're so damn noisy." I scorned, looking at his chopped off arm that laid on the ground next to him. It was holding a sharp, glinting object. A pocket knife.

I slammed my fist into his face, hearing a whimper. His head hit the wall backward. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and glared at him.

"So you were trying to attack me when I was distracted, huh? Nice try, darling." I scoffed, but one of the corners of my lips twitched. I pulled out my axe again that was wedged to the wooden floor, splattered with blood.

"It was fun playing with you. Your time's up, darling." I whispered to his ear.
"I'm..I'm..sorry.." His voice croaked. Tears swelled up in the corners of his eyes, but I laughed it off. Blood was dripping down his nose and to his chin.
"That's what pedophiles like you get at the end."

I raised my axe again and brought it down violently. Then, I raised my axe again. Swung it down. Then I kept repeating till all I was able to see was red. Red. Red. Red. Everything was red. The walls. The floor. The axe. My clothes. My hands. My face. I'm free. I've finally freed myself from all this misery.

My heart was racing and pounding in my ribcage. I doubled over and laughed. My laugh was so hollow, yet it bounced off the walls and echoed in the room. I looked at the splattered, bloodied mess of flesh and broken bones I made in front of me and tossed my axe to the ground. I buried my face in my bloodied hands, and my shoulders trembled. Acidic bile crawled at the back of my throat as the awful stench of a rotting corpse took over the room.

I'm just a little twisted. Everything's fine.

I slowly slip my hands away from my face. Yes, everything's fine. What I did was necessary to survive. I'm just a little twisted.

I stood there a little dumbfounded, suddenly not knowing what to do next. Suddenly, I hear someone slow clapping behind me. I swiftly spun around, only to find a tall, lean man leaning against the doorframe. He wore a long, dark trench coat and leather gloves. His face was partially covered with a black mask, but his well defined jaw and prominent cheekbones still stood out. His hair was a jet black color yet coiffed to perfection. He radiated beauty and elegance, reminding me of the Greek sculptures I used to admire in museums.

His sapphire eyes twinkled with amusement. Little creases formed in the corner of his eyes, and I could tell he was smiling. Almost as if this was a child's play. I wanted to rip the mask off his face and hold him by his neck.

"Akahana, isn't it?" He chuckled. "What a psycho you are."