EMPIRE OF LUST

CHAPTER THREE

KILLIAN.

Age Eleven.

Ghost face.

That's what I call her because that's what she's. She's not real. She's a ghost face. One I couldn't wait to see what was underneath the plastic skin they'd covered her with.

She's a reminder of everything bad. Someone that is not supposed to be in existence.

I wish she'd died in that accident, not my mother. She's not supposed to be alive.

I watched as my father pampered her since she returned from health confinement.

It has been two weeks since she was discharged from the hospital and brought home and he's always around her, making sure she's alright and isn't in any kind of pain or discomfort.

He's trying to rectify his past mistakes, through her. He's trying to be a good man, after everything he's done.

Good for him, I've no conscience to deal with, neither do I owe anyone compassion.

My feet carried me into the kitchen, where I heard the voices coming from.

Her contagious laughter filled the atmosphere. She was laughing at something Melinda, the cook, was saying to her.

I walked silently past them, went straight to the refrigerator, and I pulled the door open.

"You're back, Master Killian. Welcome." Melinda said to me, acknowledging my presence, but she said nothing.

Her laughter died immediately after she noticed my presence, and from where I was, the intoxicating smell of her fear clouded my nostrils.

She's always on the edge whenever I'm close and that's how I want her to be. I like that my presence precipitates such a reaction from her.

Levi said I move around like a dark shadow, swallowing people in my darkness and making them uncomfortable in it.

I like it that way, especially when she's the one in that darkness.

"Thank you, Melinda," I said to the older lady, picking a bag of chips from the top shelf of the fridge.

"Would you want me to prepare any snacks for you, Master Killian?" Melinda asked me, followed by the scraping sound of the stool against the tiled floor. I picked a can of soda and closed the fridge door,

"I'm fine with these," I assured her as I turned like a robot, my attention fixating on Ghost-face. Her head was glued to the table as she tugged her lower lip as if her life depended on it.

A sinister smirk cut my lips, as I imagined tying her against my bedpost and acting out my darkest fantasies on her young body.

I discarded the thoughts immediately, knowing she wasn't an easy prey.

I don't want her to die, at least, not yet.

I walked past her terrified form, leaving the kitchen before my impulse got the better of me against her.

Just as I headed towards the stairs, to go lock myself in my solitude, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind and I paused.

Ghost-face.

I need not see her, to know she's the one. Her scent is something I've gotten used to, ever since she returned from the hospital.

It's mild but intoxicating and I don't miss a beat of the chaotic effect it has on me.

Ever since the accident, chaos has become more of a companion, than a foe.

I didn't turn to her. Rather, I stood still, waiting for her to get closer.

"Killian." I heard her small voice call my name,

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She asked me and this time, I turned to her.

She's wearing a pink dress that has too much stuff at the bottom, making it appear twice her size. Today, her long golden hair was packed in a ponytail, and a butterfly hairband tied around her head.

The white sandals she was wearing had a pink butterfly print at the top, matching the one on the belt tied around her waist.

I allowed my eyes to feast on her body, while she squirmed nervously.

This was the first time she had been walking up to me for a conversation since she returned home and I don't know how I should talk to her.

"Can I come and play with you when your friends come over today?" She asked me and my brows creased.

Why should I allow her to join us?

"Why?"

"I don't have anyone to play with me." She inveighed sullenly,

"I'm always bored."

I don't want her near me or any of my friends. Dylan can be nice, but Levi cannot be trusted, especially after he told me to my face, that my sister looks more beautiful after the surgery.

I was tempted to punch him across the face and shun him to keep his eyes away from her, but there were a lot of people present, so I let it slide. That doesn't mean I've forgotten.

"No."

"But, papa said I could play with you when I'm bored."

"I don't want you to play with me, or any of my friends." I forewarned her and she began to sniffle, like a two-year-old whose chocolate was confiscated.

"But why?" She cried,

"I'm your sister, why can't I play with you?"

I hate being questioned, especially when I'm in no mood to talk.

"Because I said so!" My nose flared in anger, as I imagined Levi playing with her, as he did with the girls from school.

Never am I letting her into our circle.

Her sobs got louder, but I didn't care, as long as she was left untainted for me..

It's my right to taint her first, before anyone.

"You're mean and I wish you were never my brother." She blurted out amidst her tears, but I didn't say anything to her.

I'm not your brother, ghost-face.

She brushed past me and ran upstairs.

To her room, I bet. She's going to stay there and cry until Father comes home and she'll tell him I won't allow her to play with me.

He'll console her and promise to buy her more dolls or whatever she asks for, then he'll come to me and reprimand me for not being nice to my sister.

I hissed and followed after her, but instead of going to console her, I went into my bedroom and slammed the door shut.

As I'd expected, Father came back from work and the first person he asked Georgie about was Heaven, his perfectly modified daughter.

"Where's she?"

"She must be in her bedroom, sire. I haven't seen most of her since." Georgie, our butler, a man as old as Methuselah, replied Father, taking his briefcase and the small carton from him.

"Carry that carefully, it's a surprise to Heaven," Father said to Georgie, and I stole a glance at the cardboard, curious about its content.

Father didn't look my way, not even when I grunted a welcome to him. He immediately hurried up the stairs, to go see how she was faring.

I watched him until he disappeared onto the second floor, calling her name.

I hissed and returned my attention to the TV, oblivious to whatever the anchorman was saying.

I've no interest in politics or business, like my father. I've more interest in anatomy, both animal and human, and that's more reason why I want to be a surgeon in the future.

That way, I can get to satisfy my urge to see what lies underneath the human skin.

Till then, I've had to improvise with the helpless animals around me, including the cat she was carrying as she walked down the stairs with Father.

The sight of the snow-white British shorthair car, squirming against her small frame, ignited chaos within me.

That urge, to peel off the outer layer of its skin, slammed me like an air of nausea.

I swallowed a hard gulp and looked away from them, subjecting my eyes to the TV, even though my attention had been drifted.

"Killian," Father called my attention and I reluctantly turned to them,

"Why were you being mean to your sister earlier?" He queried me, but my attention was on the plump, blue-eyed cat she was carrying.

The look on her face as she stroked its furs lovingly, was the look of pure admiration.

I wanted to snatch it from her and take it down to the basement, acting out my fantasies on it, but Father was giving me a disapproving frown and I dared not misbehave.

"Now, apologize to your sister." It was an order, one I couldn't object to, at least, not openly.

I took a few steps toward them and stopped right in front of her.

"Sorry for being mean to you earlier."

Apology tasted like a gall on my taste bud, but I couldn't escape this one. I swallowed the bitterness and continued,

"I promise to not be mean to you next time."

She bought my insincere apology and flashed me a smile, one I didn't reciprocate. Rather, I leaned closer to her as if I wanted to touch her new pet and I whispered against her hearing instead,

"Enjoy your win now, because there won't be any celebration when I finally destroy you."

Her body tensed against my words and I pulled away, stroking the cat's soft fur once.

I flashed her a sinister smirk and turned my attention to Father,

"Goodnight, Father."

I spared her another glance before I left and she appeared panic-stricken. The cat jumped down from her arms, but she didn't notice, as she was looking at me like she'd seen a ghost.

She should be scared because there's a lot to be scared of.