Red Insanity

Chapter 6: In the Beginning

Until further notice the POV is now Jack's, beginning with his life story. It will  switch from 3rd to 1st person point of view.

I guess you think my backstory is going to be heinous. And it is, but my childhood was mostly normal. Heh well, except for a few things.....

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was raised to be a little rich boy or rather a girl. My family favored female heirs. It was either, be born a girl, be raised as one or become their servants. Seeing as I was denied the first option, I chose the second. Though I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

My grandmother would die soon and I was quite far from being old enough to take her position. She was a frail thing: going on 80. My family was well known in our town. Well known enough to be feared at least. For reasons you shall learn of course. Anyway, the only reason we were rich was because one of our mines had struck quite largely and still was.

While the rest of our town suffered from loss of wealth, my family swelled with it like a hog before his own slaughter. Literally, I might add. A house full of masks. That was what this family was to me. The Rier family, an esteemed bunch of hogs incapable of comprehending and depicting real tangible emotions. Well.......not actually.

They were all too fake, I lived like a different person. While they wore their masks, so did I. Always smiling and laughing. Lying is so easy. How unfortunate for them. Of course, they did have real emotions underneath, the picture of human ugliness.

While others saw dazzling smiles and cheery laughs. I saw scheming villains and generals of misery and scorn. These were no angels. They were.......NOTHING. I was quite young when this realization first dawned on me. You know they never told me when I was born.

I assume I was like seven or something. I went to the small public school but after I was never allowed out of the house. And I hadn't been to town either. From what I heard though the town was pretty small. It had a few small shops for the occasional passerby or tourist. My curiosity could have torn down the wallpaper.

It was so overwhelming. But they spilled nothing and my knowledge was very constricted. The thing I was taught the most was anything concerning money. Money is everything they said. Money is all that should and will ever matter to you as long as you are a part of this family. I still didn't care.

What worth does paper have? Those were my thoughts when I was seven. Something was wrong with me. Or maybe I just didn't belong. It didn't help with how I was treated. And despite this I was actually pretty innocent in most matters.

The brief stupidity brought by youth. Do you think I had a hero? Do you think I had one good family member to soothe my troubles? Of course not. This isn't some child's fairytale with a knight in shining armor. It's the childhood of a serial killer.

Alright then, my days after school were usually spent in my room away from my so called "family". When alone I could take off my mask. It's a shame really. The face underneath is so beautiful. So natural, so.....positively.......... irresistible....Too bad my family didn't see it sooner.

Maybe they would've known what was coming. So much for that. Anyway, I can still remember my first murder like it was yesterday. Oh....how time flies......

(1st person-Jack's POV)

Riiiiiipppp

The sound of plastic being torn apart. I love that sound. So sweet and stimulating. I placed the doll on the floor and laid back, forehead to the gray ceiling. My eyes closed and I sighed. Just another day.....Like all the others......

Filled with dry happiness and insufficient pleasure. I'd finished my homework easily a few hours ago. They never teach us hard things in that place and the kids there are idiots. I mean seriously? They don't even know how to count to 1000?! At least that gave me an advantage.

I sat back up and yawned. My hobby was beginning to bore me. I took one of the dolls and tore off its head with my teeth, spitting it out and letting it fly across the room. I laughed as it landed with a small clunk. Then I threw the body behind not carrying of its landing location. I heard a shriek of disgust behind soon after I had thrown it.

I froze, that was a waste of a doll.

"Wha-?!"

I heard and the figure stalked towards me. Their heels squishing on the carpet as their pace quickened until they were stomping rapidly. I turned around. My face was immediately met with a lash. I felt the slap on my skin and instinctively covered my face, pretending to cry out in pain when it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt.

"You disgusting little monster!"

I'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was my mother, Lady Derilia of the Riers. She had pulled out her favorite weapon, passed down many generations. The crimson whip: labeled for its ability to draw blood so quick and effortlessly like a sharp dagger. She brought it down again on my back, tearing into the other side of my shirt. I heard the lashes and counted.

1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10....24...25...

She finally stopped, drawing in breath. I laid on my stomach now playing dead or rather unconscious in this situation.

She finally raised her head and towered over my body, "You are a devils spawn. Don't forget that. If I ever catch you doing this again, it'll be 50 lashes. Do you hear me, Jack?"

I didn't answer. She snorted in disdain and straightened her ruffled dress.

"......hehehehe...."

Her head snapped up and she looked at me in hostility. I wondered why. I wasn't doing anything.

"hehehehehehahahahaha...."

Who is that laughing? Is someone in front of me? Then I realized my body was shaking and my lips had curled into a grin. So it was me. My mom stumbled back and hit the wall causing a painting to fall against the floor outside my door. Then she gulped and ran down the hallway, briskly, crimson whip in hand.

My laughing continued. I put a hand over my mouth to stop it. I had accidentally let the face behind my mask come out and I had still believed I could control that transition. Oh well. I shrugged and cracked my neck coming to standing. Blood was dripping down my back and staining the carpet. 

I stood there a bit longer, after all I loved a "red" carpet and the sight of real blood made me so happy. Finally snapping out of that, I changed my outfit and bellyflopped onto my bed. The next day was like the last, oddly enough. I went to school, came home, did my homework in no time and began to "play" with my dolls. Though unfortunately, she returned to my sanctuary and wrecked brief havoc. Fifty lashes this time.

I still felt nothing, even as more red leaked from my veins unto the crisp white carpet. It's hard to feel alive when you can't even feel any pain, I thought grinning malicously.  Such an advantage this is.........which also probably means I can't feel anything when I cause pain to others, both physically and mentally.