III
10 years ago
17 September
00:30
.š„ Ż Ė
It's a little past midnight at this point.
The clouded moonlight dimly shines through my window, a small breeze hitting my face from my fan. I made sure to lock my window and door, so did my brother and sister. We all took accountability to secure each and every crevice of the home because the killer showed no sign of forced entry into the home.
Mother and father's room was under investigation.Ā
It felt surreal.Ā
How did this all happen, and why.
I lay in my room wide awake, paranoid that that damn killer will strike again, even though we've secured every centimeter of the house.Ā
The funeral has been planned, and after said funeral, we're moving to our godmother's house.
Her name is Rosa, well, that's what we call her. Remember this, this is crucial to the story.
She's a witch, or sorceress; I don't know the proper term, but I have a niche she has something to do with the murders.Ā
She's not the murderer, but she's always had this weird... thing?; for us children. It's quite strange, I'll say. I cannot bare the thought of her being behind the murders, but nothing is impossible, but what do I know? I'm a child.
A dumb child, my parents would call me and my own little sister.
ā¦Ā ā¦Ā ā¦
I can't help but sadistically feel thankful my parents are dead, but there's this moral compass telling me that it's bad to think this, because now Aika, who's about ā¦ eight, has to spend her life as an orphan child.
I'm truly torn between my morals, but I know my feelings are biased towards how I was treated; however, aside from that, I need to find out who killed Atsu, his girl, and our parents.
All I could recall from yesterday morning was that stupid figure, his eyes watching me "sleep" etched in my mind like an intrusive thought.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought about the killer and their motives, the potential suspects, the ease the killer could get awayā the more the moral compass I once had began to slip away. I was genuinely torn between hatred for the killer, andā¦ admiration.Ā
Why admiration? It's just bafflingā this killer could commit a serial killing, and slip out of our fingers with ease. There's no evidence of who did it, there's no guidelines of suspects ā and if there is, there's many people who want us dead, simply because we're royalty.Ā
I layed awake, staring at the white ceiling, imagining it splattered in blood due to the killer killing me. I imagined the idea that I was the one who was shot and killed in my sleep, or innocently strolling outside of my residence. I imagined myself killing somebody, just like that killer did. I didn't know why I was imagining this, but I was, and I enjoyed it.
ā¦
No.
I didn't enjoy it.
I hated it.
I hated every ounce of this thought.
I'm a child, not a murderer.
I'm a dumb child, I could never commit a crime.
Right?
ā¦
The thoughts really became bothersome. I stood up, brushing off my gown, and walking cautiously to the bookshelf where I lit a candle with a match and went down the corridors, making an effort to get some fresh, outside air.
Once I make it to the front of the castle, I open the door with all my power, using my strength to push open the large wooden door.Ā
The breeze hit me in the face quickly, almost putting out my candle. In case this did happen, I made sure to pack matches. I wouldn't want to be without light in the middle of the night, especially with a killer loose. I looked up at the sky, watching the moon get covered with those fluffy things in the sky we call clouds.Ā
It was very refreshing, I haven't been outside alone since my family learned about the dangers of our kingdom from fellow nobility. It was scary, being outside alone, knowing I could very well die out here, but it was also veryā¦ calming.
The feeling of the cold touch on my skin feltā¦ eerie, but very pleasant. It was almost like a hand that was ice cold was touching my cheek. Until I realized, that was actually the case.
It didn't take me more than a few seconds for me to revolt against this odd hand, but I was quickly caught off guard when it was just Azazel, dressed in his own pajamas with one of his robes.Ā
"Relax, Aly, it's just me."
Azazel spoke softly, capturing my aggressive hands with ease into a pin behind my back.
"You scared meā¦"
I replied with a bitter tone, a sigh to follow. Azazel laughed, that stupid signature snicker to follow when he has the upper hand of a situation, which is almost always.
"I'm sorry. What are you doing awake? It'sā¦ about three in the morning by now."
Azazel started, before continuing with a softer tone.
"You're taking a risk being out here alone. If you're not tired, let me be here with you. We can talk about it together."
Azazel concluded his speech. He was always good at consulting me in these situations, but I didn't dare tell him about my sadistic ideations; it didn't take long for him to catch onto them though. I hated him for his basically telepathic skills. Nothing was ever a secret with him. However, eventually, I did fold, and I released every singular intrusive thought I had been fighting, including the eyes of that killer etched in my mind.
It was now that I realized my brother was just like me.
His smile said it all.