I knew I shouldn’t be spying on people like this, but I couldn’t help it. It looked fun. How many times does one experience the ability to watch people suffer? I’ve got to release my schadenfreude tendencies somehow. Granted, if things got dangerous, I’d run—but to watch a kid being beaten up wasn’t a tragedy; it was a life lesson.

I might have hit my head somewhere as a baby, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to stop my nosiness.

I hid behind a conveniently-sized trash bin that so happened to be at the right place at the right time. It literally begged me to hide behind it.

When I poked my head out to see what was going on, I was met with the all too familiar scene of bullying—except the bullies were adults while the victim was a kid. He looked more like a teenager, actually.

“What are you all going to do on this holy day?” The teenager said in an almost sarcastic tone. He was fearless in the face of danger. This was the kind of stuff that made box office in cinemas. Give or take some whiteness, blonde hair, some random romantic subplot, and it was Hollywood certified.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” replied one of the gangsters.

“I don’t know, but it’s got nothing to do with that kid over there, right?” The teenager shot a look at me, who had no business here.

“What kid?” I hid my body entirely from view and hoped no one else saw me.

But that ended up being unnecessary.

“AHHH SHIT!”

“HELP!”

“BOSS!”

The cries of anguish and despair soon subsided within the noise of the parade. As if nothing happened, their sounds disappeared. The proof of their existence was gone.

My goosebumps weren’t going away anytime soon. Yet, I couldn’t help myself from peeking despite my spidey senses warning me not to.

‘I need to run.’

But I looked anyway, bringing my head out to the open alley.

‘What?’

There was no one there: no cries, no blood, nothing.

“What are you looking for?”

I turned around in an instant with my back against the trash.

“Don’t be so scared, I don’t bite.” The teenager said with blood-stained lips.

“Now go on home to your mother.” He patted my head with little regard for me as he walked out into the streets.

I wanted to run for my life, but my body was paralyzed. I didn’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to move. I wasn’t scared, and I wasn’t afraid, so why? I wasn’t even trembling, yet I was frozen in place. Was it some sleep paralysis magic?

My eyes could only linger on the teen who waltzed his way out of my sight. He was without a care in the world, going about as if what just happened was commonplace.

I couldn’t catch a glimpse of his teeth, but I was so certain that he had canines as sharp as spears. His mouth was definitely bloody, and I did not see wrong. I wasn’t deluding myself and I definitely wasn’t fantasizing. This scenario wasn’t something I would ever think up, not even in my faintest dreams.

Fear, to me, was a woman. And that was a monster. I liked it.

I wasn’t gay, and he wasn’t handsome or anything—it was all the absurdity.

‘The absurdity of it all.’

That indescribable sensation of an idea was floating on the tip of my tongue. I knew I could grasp it, but it was still out of reach, teasing me every step of the way. It was the simple confusion brought about by the question of “What the fuck is going on?” Without confronting the solution, I could only entertain my imagination.

Was it magic? Was it cannibalism? What was it?

More and more, I regret not having watched what happened. But I knew I wouldn’t have lived if I saw.

I could see myself observing everything in every possible outpost of my mind. But in the end, the solution was clear as day. It has always been clear, I just chose not to think about it. Like many other things in life, there are necessities we as humans ignore. And if I wanted to fend off any of those possibilities in my mind, I needed to be stronger.

Those cryptic lyrics finally made sense to me.

To rule the world, I had to be on my best behavior.

That was what I had to do.

That was my goal.

And that goal will be of my design.

‘I’m hilarious.’

I could laugh at myself like I always did, but I chose not to. There was no need.

*Kst

“Did you have fun?”

The devil had already arrived, and I had been dancing on her palms this whole time.

***

“The kids aren’t alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“You go pick him up from school. You’ll see.”

“What’s he got to do with our girl?”

“He’s our son, do you even hear yourself?”

“Put him in some mental institution or whatever.”

“You… You think he’s crazy or something?”

“Of course I’m crazy.” My laughter spiked.

I laughed.

For the longest time, I could smile.

“What if I’m normal, and it’s you guys who are crazy?”

“HAHAH!”

***

“I’m awake now.” I got up and looked at the one person in the room.

I could see a wry smile escaping from my face about now.

“What do you want from me?”

The question was aimed at the woman. Red hair, red dress. What’s up with that?

I couldn’t hide my flamboyance from striking out. I really couldn’t. And I was sick of considering it. I never intended to act kind so why should I try to?

‘I should have said this sooner.’

I never had anything to lose. And I never had anything to fear. I was human. I could do whatever I want.

“I will raise you,” she responded straightforwardly. She did not try to wiggle her way out of the question. She did not try to look away. She did not say anything stupid. She did not question my audacity. She did not care. She simply spoke. No matter how simple, it was that straightforwardness that drew me to listen.

And to those words, I understood clearly.

“And why do you want to raise me?

“You don’t need to know,” she replied with the same unchanging tone. It wasn’t one of ridicule, disrespect, or insincerity. She just spoke. Her manner was lifeless like a machine. A professional spokesman.

If anybody else saw our conversation, they’d think we were aliens communicating in our mother tongue. And I would agree too if I saw a child haughtily talking to an adult. But that was wrong. Our interaction was artificial, I sent an input, and she replied with an output. That was all it was. It was part professionalism and part sobriety. There were no double meanings to be found—no deeper intent past the surface.

I didn’t want to imagine what life experience would yield such a straightforward woman. If someone told me she was a cardboard character from a book, I might even agree.

To that point, there was a common criticism I found in all romantic films. Whenever two people of opposing genders stare at each other for longer than five seconds, there is a concept generated that makes the audience believe there was some romantic tension between the two. That was not how life worked. And here, in my current position, I stared at the woman in all her beauty. I did not know her name. I did not know who she was. I only knew that she was aesthetically pleasing to look at.

But I could never imagine this kind of woman having a partner. She gave off the aura of a queen, someone with power, authority, and wealth. Even if she did have a king, I was for sure not going to be that king.

I had been distracted by the food earlier, so I didn’t pay much attention. But now I could sympathize a little with her personality.

“What’s your name,” I asked, only because I knew she wouldn’t say otherwise.

“Call me Scarlet.”

‘A red name too.’

I marked her obsession and moved on.

She already knew my name so I gave a brief reminder, “Call me God.”

I took another glance around the room, scoping the surroundings for anything different. The book was still on the table, but other than that, not much.

“I left your uniform in the drawer, you will attend my school starting next week.”

I ignored her and asked, “Is there a gym here?”

She didn’t seem to understand my question.

“Is there a place where I can swing a sword?