CHAPTER SIX

KILLIAN

Age Twenty-two

I learned from an early age that I didn't fit into the normalized standard society. Rather, I was born to rule over it.

No questions asked.

For me, control wasn't an ordinary need or a fleeting desire, it was a necessity, one as pressing as the need to breathe.

When I was younger, I tend to lose control easily. Then, it was the need for attention from my mother, before her tragic death. Later, it developed into the need to see underneath an animal's skin. Humans too, especially Ghostface's, but I only had access to animals.

Over the years, I've mastered the act of self-control. Kept my obsession repressed and my true nature garmented with layers and layers of clothes, so I could socialize with people around me.

In other to achieve that, I distanced myself from the main source of the chaos and submerged myself in other things, like obtaining my degree and getting my medical license.

I could've decided to stay home and attended any of the Ivy League universities around, like Harvard, Stanford, or even John Hopkins University, but I'd have to travel thousands of miles away to Europe to study, to be away from her.

After staying away for seven solid years, I didn't think I could wait any longer.

She was finally turning eighteen, which means I could do whatever I want to do to her and be charged for nothing.

For the past few years, I've watched her evolve from that kid Barbie doll, with blonde hair and innocent blue eyes, into this girl with long-toned legs and an hourglass figure that couldn't pass unnoticed.

She'd turned out better than I'd ever expected and I was getting impatient.

I did tell my father I was coming back home, after passing my approbation exam and getting my license. However, I wasn't specific when knowing he was going to inform her and she would want to mentally prepare herself.

I wanted to catch her off guard and the best day to do that was the day she was a full-on celebration.

Tonight.

My father did inform me he'd left town for business and wouldn't be back until the weekend, which was two days away.

I figured out, I could spend that two days with her, without Father's occasional intervention.

She wasn't the wallflower princess she used to be. Now, she has developed into a social butterfly with massive social media recognition.

Get it twisted if need be, but I've been stalking her Instagram page anonymously for the past years, watching her posts and updates on her life.

Like, how she has been the valedictorian of her class for three consecutive years. Or, when she made it to the finals of the state's chess competition and won the first position for the fourth time. Video updates on her leading the cheerleaders. Her trophies collection is from chess competitions, debates, and sports. Running for election for class president and winning president of the Wilmer's Entrepreneurship Club.

I've followed and watched every important milestone of her life that was recorded on camera, from the day I left home, to this day.

Tonight, she was throwing herself an elaborate themed birthday party, and all her friends and classmates were invited, including the jock of a boyfriend she was keeping.

Some dude named Hunter or whatever the fuck his name was. He was Wilmer's current football captain.

Not only have I planned to crash her party, but I've planned to take that which was rightfully mine.

That was if that juvenile bastard hasn't stolen the first taste of what was mine, giving me no option than to kill him.

Since no one knew of my arrival, I had to order an Uber to come pick me up from the airport.

From the airport, I was driven to the cemetery where my mom was buried. The last time I visited her was two days before I left for Germany, seven years ago.

Everywhere seemed to have developed over the years. There were more gravestones compared to before I left.

Of course, death is inevitable and due to the economic and weather change, the mortality rate had increased substantially by over fifteen percent in the last five years.

Semantics.

I located my mother's gravestone amongst the heap of marble monuments in the cemetery and stopped in front of it, my head tilted down, ever slightly.

Someone had left a bunch of fresh white roses for her and checking the rotten ones by the side of the gravestone, I could tell the person was a regular visitor.

I couldn't buy her flowers on my way, but I did promise to come with them when visiting again.

I stayed with her, at the cemetery, filling her on everything that had happened in the years I was away.

Studies, exams, adventures, and everything. I could tell she was proud of me from wherever she was listening.

She couldn't be any prouder.

Before Heaven, I used to believe she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. With long and wavy, dark copper brown hair and worn-out gray eyes, she was a beauty to behold. A rare type.

Too bad, Luke Casteel didn't appreciate what he'd done until he lost it for good.

Mom wasn't the social butterfly like most of Luke's friend's wives.

She'd rather spend endless hours in the library, jumping from one book to another, drowning her existence in them, than be present at any social event.

Even when Father forced her out of her comfort zone, to these boring events and functions, she barely spoke a word to anyone, except the perfunctory greetings.

To the world outside, she was Luke Casteel's wallflower wife, Jillian Casteel. She loved their paradigm of her and didn't bother trying to change them.

For a woman whose husband owned one of the biggest business empires in California, Mom was different.

She was a stay-at-home mom, which made people believe she'd all the time in the world to do something with her life.

Pick an interesting hobby, start writing, join a socialite club, or start a charity organization. But she had no interest in either of those.

Not to say she wasn't interested in helping the needy. My mother was Mother Teresa's clone at the finest, but she gave when the world wasn't looking.

However, she had more interest in alienating herself in the solitude of the library and burying her existence in non-fiction books. Then, she would drag me into the library with her and she made me sit for hours with her, reading or listening to her read.

She first read me Nausea when I was seven and I read it again several more times in the following years.

She read to me, I read to her and we exchanged our thoughts on the books we've read.

Those were our mother-and-son bonding moments.

Moments that are now memories I carry with me every passing day.

After spending almost an hour, talking to her, I decided to start heading home. It was getting dark and the party must've started.

We arrived home about twenty minutes later and I alight the ride.

There were a few decorations outside the house, showing that a party was in place inside.

Like the neon lighting over the entrance that read;

"WELCOME TO SIN CITY."

Interesting.

The driver helped me carry out my luggage and he dragged them towards the grand entrance.

"Thank you." I mouthed to the man, tipping him with the extra cash I'd in my wallet and he thanked me profusely, before leaving.

From where I was standing, I could hear the loud music blaring from inside the house, as I pressed the bell.

I prayed someone heard the bell, putting how loud and boisterous it would be inside.

Fortunately, I heard the familiar click, and the door was pulled open, just as I reached to press the bell again.

It was Georgie and he was clothed in a funny-looking evening suit, making him look like a butler from the eighties.

The man's appearance has aged over the years and I could spot the wrinkles on his face and his laugh line getting more elaborate.

"Master Killian!" He called, almost in shock.

"Good evening, Georgie." I greeted him casually like it hasn't been seven years since we last saw each other.

"Welcome Master Killian. You didn't inform us you were arriving today." He pointed out uneasily, as he reached to help me bring up my luggage.

"I called my father and he told me he was out of town and won't be back until the weekend. I guess, why not drop by and surprise him when he returns?"

"But, we could've made proper arrangements to welcome you and come pick you up from the airport, instead of burdening yourself with a cab."

"Not to worry, Georgie. It wasn't any burden."

I could perceive the man's nervousness as he led me into the party house, carrying both my luggage.

"Sin City? Quite an interesting celebration." I mouthed casually, looking around the crowded living room for a sign of the birthday girl.

"It's your sister's birthday and she'd requested a Las Vegas-themed party," Georgie explained to me and I shrugged, roaming my gaze over the mansion's first floor, filtering through high school teenagers.

Looking at them, I still saw the same rich spoiled brats from all those years ago. Wilmer has been producing a lot of them, over the years.

Kids with lots of daddy's money at their disposal.

"Let me take you upstairs, Master Killian. You must be tired after the long flight." Georgie offered, but I declined, feigning a gracious smile,

"Not to worry, Georgie. I am fine. I think I'd rather enjoy the show from here."

The old man wasn't convinced, especially when he knew my history with such boisterous parties.

"Master Killian...."

"I'd be fine, Georgie. Go on." I urged him, almost turning towards the poker table, when I noticed the feminine figure descending the stairs.

I recognized her.

"Wait here, Georgie," I said to Georgie, ascending the stairs to meet her halfway,

"Where's she?" I questioned her, obstructing her path.

I'd expected her to give me straight answers and not stupidly beat around the bush.

"Who?"

"There's something about repeating myself, I hate. Where's she?"

"She's...she's..up...her..bed--" She stuttered, looking at me helplessly and terrified like she has seen the devil.

"Good girl." I flashed her a sinister smirk, cutting her off as I walked away, ascending the rest of the stairs.

Seeing Heaven pinned against the wall by a young man, groping her like if his life depended on it, I surged toward them, blinded by my favorite color, red.

I wanted to grab his neck, pin him against the wall and strangle him until there wasn't any form of life left inside him, but I'd to rein on my impulse.

I was way over losing my self-control.

I grabbed him from behind by his collar and flung him away from her, not minding where he landed.

I watched Heaven's expression conformed from shock to a horror-stricken expression, in a matter of nanoseconds. Hue drained from her face, leaving her face pale like she has encountered a ghost.