—I know that there is nothing good within me.
His hair blew in the wind, the height of this drop causing his heart to race.
One step forward, and it would all end.
Surrounded by cars, hearing the traffic below, the boy had planned for the parking garage to be his coffin. A coffin of his making, meant to put a stop to his foolishness.
Seventeen years. Seventeen years he had spent with a lifetime of idiocy, and the youth could not see himself as anything more.
As if he were born to die young, the boy could not see a future.
All I have to do… one step, one step.
His breathing deep and focused, his lips pursed, the boy's body still yet rejected death. And yet.
In order to avoid the rapidly approaching future, he had to take this one step. Just one, just one step was all—
"—Hk."
Instinctively afraid of the wind distorting his balance, the boy staggered away from the ledge, landing on the hard ground of the parking garage.
Pain ran through his lower back, as he groaned and rolled over, climbing to his feet quickly.
What a mess.
A shameful attempt at death.
…
Driving away pitifully after his aborted suicide, Riley Woods stared forward without emotion on his face.
The light in his eyes far removed as a result of his incompetence, he sat in his silence.
The AC gently blowing in the car, the clicking of the turn signal, the smell of air freshener filling his nostrils, he was oblivious to all of it. In his mind, he strung together many sentences of regret and shame, his guilt at being unable to follow through.
He longed to die. He had long wished for it, even since he was young. Yet, for reasons he himself couldn't explain, he had persisted.
Playing out his death many times over, he daydreamed. The reactions of those around him, the feeling of falling or being in pain, the sensation and fear that stirred in his chest from death.
And yet, time and time again, when faced with the real deal, he backed away.
Biting the inside of his lips, digging the thumb of his nail into the skin of his index finger, Riley waited at the stoplight.
Turning on a True Crime podcast to provide himself some white noise, he stared out the window.
"—rbing case of the Jacksonville Vampire, tens of dead bodies were discovered with all of the blood in their bodies removed, with bite marks in their necks. With how unnatural it is, I can't help but imagine there is a vampire out there… in Jacksonville, Illinois, of all places!"
Vampires? Well, that's new, at least.
Mindlessly listening, and his attention away from the light, he looked out to see a woman. Her arm forcefully grabbed by a man, she was jerked backwards.
With Riley's eyes widening at the sight, he stared intently, seeing her struggle and try to walk away.
Rolling the window down, he opened his mouth.
"Hey! What are you doing?" He wanted to shout. Even if he didn't spring into action, he firmly believed just drawing attention to it would discourage the man.
And yet, in the corner of his eye, he saw green.
"Hk."
Silence.
—Driving away with a fractured moral compass, Riley had chosen to do nothing.
…
Entering his apartment, Riley heard the pitter-patter of small feet, looking to see a young boy walking towards him.
The young boy pointed his finger at Riley as if he were an undiscovered landmark, and called out "Wiley!"
Riley instinctively smiled in response, crouching down with his arms wide open. The boy ran over and Riley embraced him in his arms, standing up.
"Joey, are you hungry?" He asked, and Joey nodded his head with a small "Yeah!"
Riley got to work, making his little brother a small pizza in the oven. While waiting for the oven to preheat, he went to the bathroom and washed his hands, as they were dirty from touching concrete to support himself after his fall.
Whilst he washed his hands, he glanced in the mirror, seeing his reflection.
Disgusting.
Scowling at the sight of himself, Riley felt a shiver down his spine, repulsed. His asymmetrical face, his downturned lips, the acne on his jaw, nose and cheeks—utterly disgusting.
Hanging his head low, Riley wished to avoid his own gaze.
Digging the nail of his thumb into the skin of his index finger, Riley earnestly wished to never see his face again.
Stopping the running water, Riley left the bathroom and put the frozen pizza in the oven.
This is about all I can do, isn't it? I can't contribute anything else except for the easiest of tasks. —That's just how pathetic I am.
In all areas, he was a failure. Unable—no, unwilling to act on that which he knew was right, he was unmistakably a worthless person, difficult to even consider human.
Going to his room, Riley sat down on his bed. His light weight digging into the mattress, he heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples.
I did nothing. Of course I did. I saw something bad happening, but because it was inconvenient, I didn't act.
Pathetic. Riley Woods, you are a disgusting person.
Even if he wanted to act, he had already determined that he would not.
His lips pursed, the young man grabbed a knife and held it to his neck. Just an inch of separation in the right area along his throat, and he would die.
And yet, as expected,
I just don't have the strength to—
"Why turn the blade on yourself? You, Riley Woods, should learn to turn the blade on others."
A voice. A gentle, serene voice had run through his mind.
Looking around, Riley got off the bed, taking the knife away from his neck.
"H-huh? Wait, who was that?" Riley asked, wondering if he was experiencing a hallucination.
"I am Ghira, the Forgotten King. Riley Woods, you meet the qualifications. Star Candidate, would you like to become one of my servants?"
"Forgotten King," qualifications, "Star Candidates," servitude; Riley Woods did not understand what he was hearing.
Searching his room for the origin of this voice, he found nothing except the occasional shirt on the ground, typical of a teenager's bedroom.
"What… what's going on, am I…?" Riley asked, dumfounded at the situation. He had known he was not "all there" mentally, and yet he was in disbelief at his mental state taking this turn.
"Star Candidate, you may take the center stage for a time. Your values have intrigued me, and I have decided to act. Become my servant, and entertain me thoroughly."
Grasping the general knowledge of what was happening, Riley scoffed with an awkward laugh, biting the skin around his nail.
"Entertain you…? So, what, do I… do I play some games and give my reaction, or…?"
"I demand blood. Enthrall me with your brutality, invest me into your crumbling sense of justice, and kill others—all for my sake."
Shocked into silence, Riley's heart skipped a beat.
"——"
What? What is he saying? That is, that's… absurd. Am I going crazy? I have to be, right? Or dreaming? Did I jump, and this is just—I dunno, a fading dream?
Doubting his sense of reality, unable to trust himself, Riley sat down on his bed, holding his head as his foot tapped repeatedly.
"Ah, that's absurd. A voice telling me to kill people—seriously, what on Earth… No, I won't kill anyone, I refuse. How dumb, that's so dumb."
"Then, you've made your decision. Riley Woods, the failed star. Regardless, you shall make for a fine jester."
"Huh? What does—"
"—Wiley, is the pizza done?!"
Hearing two light knocks on the door, Riley got to his feet and opened the door. He found Joey looking up at him.
"A-ah… yes, let me go check."
Scuffling to the kitchen, Riley opened up the oven, finding the pizza with a nice golden brown. Taking it out and setting it on the counter, Riley grabbed a pizza cutter and began to slice it apart.
Yet, strangely enough,
What…?
In disbelief, Riley felt something within his heart. A vile curse stirring within his chest, he turned to look at Joey.
Wanting to murder, wanting to kill and exercise violence against the weak and helpless, his flesh desired it so. Compelled, Riley grabbed a knife and held it tightly.
What's going on? Why do I…?
As if it were a biological instinct akin to hunger, sleep and sex, Riley Woods wished to plunge the blade through the skull of a loved one.
"Ah? Wiley? What's wwong?" The young boy asked, to which Riley glanced down at the blade, his vision blurring with tears.
"...Joey."
"Huh?" Asked the boy.
"...Wait a few minutes. The pizza's all yours, just be careful when you get it, okay?" Riley quietly said, a soft, reassuring smile on his face. "I… I gotta go get something real quick… outside."
He dropped the knife to the floor. Quickly rushing past his younger brother, Riley Woods stormed out of the apartment complex. Rushing through the halls, jumping down the stairs and darting outside—he absolutely had to create distance.
Running down the sidewalk, he passed people. The urge grew stronger.
A compulsion to hurt and kill others had wedged itself inside his heart, an absurdity which he could not forgive.
Sprinting, he found himself far faster than before. Given supernatural strength, his strides were wider.
What do I do? What do I do?!
A flash of the paranormal, he had become someone called to kill.
Someone called to kill, a failed star on the stage. But, the presence of a star indicated the presence of other characters.
With that in his mind, Riley sensed someone nearby. Not by sight or hearing, but by purely unnatural indication. A sixth sense.
Fleeing to that source in an attempt to find comfort, he was led to a house, in which he knocked on the door. Inside a nice suburban neighborhood outside the city, he waited, panting heavily until the door opened.
"Ah, why hello!" The man inside cheerfully welcomed. "Oop, you just popped up a few minutes ago, and you're already here—smart cookie you are! Come, come inside, you must be so confused. Poor little thing!"
Inviting him in, the man opened the door. Riley, confused and lost, entered.
The house was a well-furnished one, with photos of a family spread throughout. Upon examination, Riley found that the man in the family photos was the one before him—a tall man with a round body and curly brown hair, one who seemed undoubtedly to be a father.
"W-what's going on?" Riley asked. "I was talking, I heard a voice, and—and then, er, I wanted to kill my little brother, and—hk, I just don't know, I just, I don't know what to do!"
"Ah, yes, I remember how it was initially for me as well. But please, trust me—you'll get over it soon. Would you like a cup of tea?" The man asked, a gentle smile on his lips.
Riley shook his head, calming himself. "N-no thanks, I'm not exactly a tea…"
"Hm? Hah, I guess it would be strange if you were a tea!"
His words stopping, Riley surged with fear. Fear ran through his body, every inch of him screaming to look at the man before him.
Just now, why was I calm?
An absurdity. He was calm in spite of having been cursed with bloodlust.
Something that should not be, something that should absolutely not be possible—for the sake of his self-image, he would not allow himself to grow comfortable with murder.
"Uh, you alright, dear?" The man chipperly asked, his gentle smile becoming a sign of danger to Riley.
Someone who talks so gently, someone who reassures me and says that I'll get over the desire to kill my brother…
Someone like that was unmistakably terrifying, someone who didn't seem to have a human heart.
"W-what do you mean… 'get over it?'"
"Hm? Well, you know, you've been chosen as a servant of Ghira," the man stated, "and we must obey our master. Our master enjoys blood, and we fulfill his wishes. In time, the more you grow closer to him, the more—"
"—That is... absurd."
Forcing those words from his throat, Riley took a step backwards. Backing up, subconsciously trying to flee, he came to a sudden stop as he collided with the door quietly. From his sudden stop, he twitched in fright.
"...Oh? Boy, are you—"
"H-how could I ever go along with that? Just now, I wanted to… I wanted to kill my brother, I wanted to kill people I passed by in the street! That's—!"
The man frowned, clicking his tongue. With one hand over his mouth, he sprouted lips, teeth and a tongue on the back of his hand, which smiled and bared its fangs.
"Seems we've found a rotten apple. Ghira, may this sight be pleasing to your eyes."
The gentle demeanor wiped away entirely, the man showed his true colors. Emanating a raw, overpowering aura of murderous intent, even just a step forward was enough to make Riley flinch.
And yet,
"Just… how many people have you killed?" Riley asked, sliding his hand up the door to grab the handle.
"Irrelevant. I prefer to focus on the quality of the meal, not the quantity."
Someone like that… he's serious. He is going to kill me.
Wide eyes of terror. Riley locked the door.
The man raised a brow. If Riley wished to leave, then he could have easily fled. Something like that was a behavior seen all throughout the man's years of experience.
—And yet, Riley had chosen to lock the door.
"...Why are you smiling?" The man asked. Staring forward with wide eyes and a subdued smile, Riley did not answer his question.
Instead grabbing the dresser just next to the front door, he launched it at the man with strength all too new to him. The dresser crashed into the man, shattering into pieces as he raised his arm to block.
Utilizing the man's surprise, Riley lunged at him and wildly swung his fist, an overhand right connecting directly to his nose. From the impact, a loud thud ran through the air, his body crashing against the counter of the kitchen, shaking the whole house.
The man clicked his tongue, getting up, not thoroughly beaten. Even still, the first attack had been delivered.
"Tch, you… You were so reluctant to violence before, and yet you've made the first move. How curious… what's your deal?"
"Ah, well…"
Wondering, Riley too wished to find the answer. Remaining unmoving, he lost himself in thought, finding that which he wished to understand.
"If I die, that's fine with me. If I kill you, then I was able to finally act on the desire to do good that I've been unable to do."
In truth, it was a matter of being able to justify his own existence.
Riley Woods, who earnestly sought within himself a reason to live, who deeply desired even just one virtue among his many flaws and vices that would enable him to say "I am not worthless," had seemingly found it.
"—In order to believe that it's okay for me to live, I am going to kill you."