“It is finished.“
I have let it simmer for too long—oh well.
After my anger has boiled over—a massacre begun.
I have killed those that needed to be killed—for my prince to become a king—of course I have excluded the mothers and the children after all, aren’t I quite merciful. I shall leave the babies, children, and their mothers to the uncle of that little prince—after all, haven’t I given that promise.
The obstacles needed for that little prince to be king are gone—from the ministers and nobles who will forbid him to the throne to the attendant loyal to their masters. I let the servants live, after all—they are not part of this grab.
Though I don’t fault that prince’s uncle—after all, it was either their lives or the prince’s. Just the thought of wanting the throne at his position would have ended with poison in his meal—but asking me in broad daylight—He was already dead to the others—quite funny if you ask me.
I walk alone in broad daylight in the halls that I wish to read—I walk to the meeting place where it all began—and chuckle at the thought and, I linger.
Every single adult that will bar the prince of his throne gone—I let some alive after all—the world still needs to run. “If the system never worked in the first place—it should be destroyed“
I walk—admiring the walls I can never read. The uncle of that little prince in front of me—thanking me. I can see his eyes as he sees mine—we’re all trying to live anyway—I just have less time.
I was going to leave tomorrow morning to the site—where the first of the sacrifice began—where the door that leads to nowhere I heard. I probably have to be the sacrifice —for my family to live with dignity.
Didi, did you ever have this kind of thought?—I still remember that time you once had to sell your body for food after a famine—I would have stolen but your pride was too much Didi.
I almost destroyed my ears just to not hear you cry, Didi. I never told you about my abilities—you’d only blame yourself. I would never blame her; she was the most courageous person I know—after all she was our mother. How could I ever blame her—she raised us.
I even wondered why she never even left us behind—she could easily pass for someone above her station—probably the same as me.
