Atticus D. Bas had just set his house on fire, it burned brighter as the flames went higher, the flames licked at his feet as he ran out. Once he was sure he was far enough away, he turned around and stood there, watching with wide innocent eyes as his white house turned a nasty charred black. The heat made his eyes water, it was so intense it felt like they were melting into his face. The house was disgusting, rundown and always needing repairs, but the scent was pleasant, the reality of it all made him gitty. Little Bas's eyes widened when he heard his name screeched, it was scratchy and loud enough to make his head rattle. He looked to the left window and inhaled a sharp breath, his mother was standing in the middle of it all, staring right into his amber eyes. Her eyes sent a clear message, disgrace, he could even hear in his mother's snarky tone. He was a disgrace thinking he was supposed to be someone with power, a king he called himself, ready to rule the world. It was only a matter of time before he would get rid of every lowlife, starting with that ungrateful mother. That monster had always loved his first name, it reminded her of her father, an old bag who owned a farm. He was worthless not worth a penny, in no way was Bas related to someone so ugly. Bas would never allow someone to call him that disgraceful name, it wasn't fit for such royalty as himself. Ever since then he has always gone by his last name, Bas was easy and short, an alias.
Thinking about his disastrous past made his blood boil in a fantastic way and an ache settled in his bones, it was beautiful. He was interrupted by a knock at the door, well he thought it was coming from the door, but it sounded more to his left. Bas listened again and the knocking got faster, he whipped his body around and glared at the wall.
"You're late," he growled towards the left wall, "everyone is late." Bas looked calm but his voice was dark and murderous.
