Seize(6)

Oh, yes … my brother … my father’s prodigy.

I sigh, pushing my brush. I shouldn’t be jealous of him, but I can’t shake it either. I will make them see me in a different light one day.

As I stand up, I look around. The blood and remains are gone, so I’m done here. My stomach is rumbling and the smell of fried deer meat has my mouth watering. I throw the bucket of water out and return it to the shed before going inside the house.

The moment I step inside, my father turns around.

“What are you doing in here?”

“It’s totally clean outside. Can I come in now? I’m hungry.”

He grunts. “I don’t believe you.” He steps away from the kitchen and walks to the door, pushing me aside to peer outside. He squints. “That’s fucking disgusting. Get back outside, you rat.”

He grabs me by my collar, and I wince from the alcoholic stench drifting from his mouth. He throws me out the door, almost making me fall over onto the stones. I scramble up and say, “Hey! I did what you asked; I cleaned it. I thought we were having dinner?”

“Dinner is for boys who work their asses off, and you haven’t done shit.”

My father attempts to slam the door shut. Tears well up in my eyes. This isn’t the first night for this to happen, but it’s the first where I decide that I’m not going to take it anymore.

I rush toward the door and put a foot in, stopping him from closing it completely. It hurts, but it’s worth it. I try to push my body through, shoving him aside, yelling, “No! Let me in!”

He growls, “Take your filthy hands off me!”

“You can’t do this!”

He slaps me in the face. It isn’t anything new. It doesn’t faze me anymore. Somehow, I’ve become so angry that I bite him in the arm. The taste of his flesh doesn’t quell my hunger.

“You fucking brat! How dare you!”

He pummels me again, but I dodge. “That’s it, I’m done. One fucking kid is enough. But a second one who can’t do jack shit is worthless.”

He grabs the shotgun standing right next to the door and then aims it at me.

I freeze.

“I should’ve done this ages ago,” he grumbles.

I stare death straight in the eyes. I can’t believe that this is happening. That my father would go this far. That he would hate me so much that he’d rather kill me than have to spend another minute in my presence.

But it is not my fault.

I may be bad and worthless, but I loved my mother.

Courage washes over me, and I lunge forward, grabbing the shotgun. He shoots, the bullet firing off into the sky. I fight him for power, while he swears at me, but I keep going. I manage to pry the gun from his hand, but in our struggle, it fires. BANG! The bullet goes straight through his chest. He screams out in pain. In shock, I stare at him as he stumbles backward and then falls over. His head hits the cold, stone floor inside. He stops moving and the light leaves his eyes. Blood pools underneath his skull.

My brother rushes down the stairs. For a second, he gapes at me, his eyes widening when they drift to our father.

He yells at me. “What have you done?”





Accompanying Song: “Girei” by Yasuharu Takanashi





5 years ago





For years and years I studied, mastering all disciplines of the Curator Study Program. I was the best in my class, had the highest grades out of all the students who had passed in the last fifteen years, and was granted an award for outstanding achievements.

I was unstoppable.

An uncontrollable force sweeping in to rule.

It was in my head, my heart, and my blood. The desire to prove to the world that I was here and that I was worthy of admiration, love.

It was always about love.

Twisted, awful, despicable love.

I hated it.

I hated that I needed it, that I craved it, and that it never was enough. I did everything that I could to acquire it. I started a business for books, gained investors, built a company. Money flooded my everyday life, and soon the girls flocked to me. They didn’t want the nerd in high school, but they did want the man with all the riches in the world.

Disgusting. The more that I received their adoration, the more I spat on it.

It was never fucking enough.

The world is full of selfish people and I regretfully have to say that I am one of them.

I sought the unattainable. I searched for love by distancing myself from my own feelings, by making this about power, money, and self-worth. But I would not be what I am right now if it wasn’t for my father. Thanks to him, I have no further interest in love. There is no such thing as love—only people with desires and how they fulfill them.

And desires I fulfill … oh yes, especially my own desire to take what I want, fuck a girl when I want, spill my cock wherever I want. Life is too short to worry about arbitrary things like seeking answers to my questions. Why didn’t he love me? Why did I kill him? Why isn’t it ever enough? Why does it matter so much to me?