There was a young man, no older than twenty-one.
Life was already confusing for him from the very start, but we're all living our first lives, aren't we? Of course everything will be new and confusing.
But things—very strange things—kept on happening to him, and he was only twenty-one when he couldn't take it anymore.
It was night-time, you see, when everyone was supposed to be asleep. And just like everyone in that mansion, the young man was deep in the realm of his fragile dream. A dream so fragile that the sound of another person's breathing jolted him awake into the strange world he was yet to die in.
Someone was in his room, and they did not even bother to close the door to prevent the light from revealing their ghostly face, the face of a mother who did not give birth to the son of her husband.
Quite a strange way to put it, don't you think?
But it was true. She was married to my father, but she was not the woman whose womb had become my first home. There were about seven other women like that before her. My father had a strange hobby, you see, but this particular lady had a far stranger hobby.
I did not push her away when she pulled me close.
I did not say a word when she whispered into my ear, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Is a mother's love supposed to make your stomach twist in disgust?
How would I know? I never got to know my own birth-giver. How would I know?
What I did know was that I had enough of her. I had enough of my father's strange hobby. I had enough of my aimless life.
I needed to defend myself, so I did.
It was self-defense.
No one was there to defend me.
I had to do it for myself.
It was self-defense.
***
"Where were you in those three days? I was worried sick."
"Oh, I had some knots to untie with this particular boy."
"A boy?"
"Yeah, a minor, to be exact."
"What?!"
"I'm saying that you need not worry about a thing, my love. He's someone so close and yet so far."
"Is your ex a minor?"
"He's a relative, actually. What's with that conclusion? Are you jealous?"
"I am, minus the ex part."
"Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend as a minor?"
"Hm-hm."
"Elias, sweetheart, I am not into men."
"Then I'll be a boy for you."
"No, that's... that's worse."
"Give me a few months and I'll grow my hair long again. That way, you can fall in love with me again, right?"
"Elias... no..."
"I can be a woman for you, or a girl, if you prefer me that way. Liam, I am willing to be anything for you to love me again."
"But I do love you. I really do. Is it not obvious enough?"
"Oh, it's obvious alright. You're the last person to notice it."
"Wilson knew?"
"He was the first one."
"He must've been disgusted with me."
"People around you aren't as resentful as you think they are. You are loved, Liam. You are loved by everyone all your life."
"Some love disgusts me."
"Then you must be the resentful one."
"I am not!"
"But you killed them all, Liam. You killed your father, you killed his wife..."
"It was self-defense! I was not wrong!"
"You killed your sister, too. And your mother."
The world was spinning.
"Senseless! She died giving birth to me, I—"
She died giving birth to me.
I killed her.
The room had been silent for so long, but I couldn't silence the beating of the corpse's heart.
I looked at the body sitting against the crimson-painted corner. Even with maggots crawling in and out of the holes on his face, my Elias still looked as beautiful as the day he found me.
The room stayed silent for another long, long time.
YOU ARE READING
Ink x Honey
General FictionIn the name of self-defense, Liam Heisenberg murdered everyone. (That's it. That's pretty much the plot of this story.)