The Emperor

08

KAISER

I stopped killing rabbits when I was around twelve. When the rabbits weren't enough anymore. The challenge of killing them was gone, I could catch one in a minute and I mastered the art of skinning them alive.

It's always been a passion of mine, peeling layer of skin after layer, unraveling the beauty of the arterial system, the truth behind the flesh. But the heart? The heart has always been my favorite part. Perhaps it's because it's the one muscular organ creating my favorite liquid, perhaps it's because it keeps the body alive, I've never really thought about it. Plus, there isn't much to see with the brain. The heart communicates every emotion to me, their heart is so alive I sometimes believe mine is dead.

People can't control their heart, no matter how much they train, there's always going to be a beat too fast or too slow, there's always a failure in the facade.

It's pathetic.

But I guess it's the same as my eye twitch, a tell I've always had. Alexander knew before I did what it meant when it happened. He would look at me for hours to see if anything changed in my features. I have a perfect poker face. Not a single trait of mine can tell others what's going on inside my head, every single time my face moves it's on purpose except when my right eye twitches.

It's a sign that the chaos can't stay in line anymore. It needs the release.

       Alexander tested that theory more than once, he would touch my things and my eye would twitch, he would push me to get me out of his way and it would twitch, he would make me late for school on purpose and it would twitch. He knew from a young age that little things triggered me and my chaos.

       He did find a way to ease the anger, often in the forest — also known as his favorite place.

Most of the time, the release I get is not enough.

I only get partially satisfied when blood is spilled. When that gorgeous color comes to life as it brings death to one.

Red, a color at the end of the spectrum next to orange and opposite violet.
       Red, rouge, rot, rosso, punainen.
       Such a color with so many different shades and pigments, but bloody red stays the number one ever since I've discovered it.

My need for blood is the first thing that alarmed my mother. I heard her telling my father "Something is wrong with Kaiser, honey, he's not like the others." Wrong. She kept saying something was wrong with me. As if she wasn't the one birthing me, as if she wasn't the one raising me, as if she didn't marry one like me.

It's her fault if I'm who I am, she should've thought about that before saying yes to my father. But no, instead she put the blame on me. I didn't care, really, it was just another reason for me to make her go away.

My lack of compassion is another fact that made her question her motherhood, how I never cried even as a baby, how I never hugged her like Alexander did, how I never patted Dawn's back when she cried. She told my father, "I think something is wrong with Kaiser, honey, he's never loved me like Alexander does." When in fact, Alexander hated her more than I did.

She wasn't very lovable anyways. To the outsiders, she was the most perfect woman to ever exist. She had beautiful children, was the only female in our household, she married a rich business man, she was a good little housewife, and she was beautiful. I can't deny that. Ma' was beautiful.