-1 yrs old-
I look up from my crib. All these cold faces looking at me, some pinch my face, some coo, some just glance away, but none of their mouths are smiling. None.
I cry. From my crib, I've seen Mother's friend's daughter cry like that, and everyone coddled her, everyone laughed and smiled at her. But none of the people here do anything. They turn and walk away. Just like that.
One man hesitates at the door. Would he smile at me? Would he come over and coddle me? I hoped so.
"You're a Prince. You, don't get to cry." Those cold words were said. I was a Prince.
-2 yrs old-
I can sort of make my way around the room now. Just have to remember the chant Mother taught me, right leg, left leg, right leg, left leg. I fall. Father comes over and holds me up into the air.
"Little Belphegor, why are you so clumsy? You're a Prince."
I am a Prince. I can only be the best.
-3 yrs old-
It's easy getting across the room now. I've tried speaking, using the weird thing on my face called a mouth. The pink thing inside is a tongue. Hit the tongue around in the mouth, and a sound comes out.
"Talk, Belphegor." Mother coddles my twin brother.
"Yaaaa…" I manage. Mother frowns. She turns to my brother.
"Talk," She says to him.
"Haha…" She smiles, but then looks at me again.
"You're a Prince."
I practice talking, ha…ya… ha…ya… ha…ya… , that's all I can manage. But everytime I return to my crib, those words that were mirrored into my memory in three whole years kept on haunting me.
"You're a Prince…"
I practice harder. Ha…ha… Ha..ha.. Haha.
I'm a Prince.
-4 yrs old-
I have to learn all these weird things. But there's one thing that sticks out to me. Knives. Oh, how beautiful they are, how swift, how accurate they can be. My brother can't do it as well as I can.
"Haha, I can throw it!" I smile and walk after my Mother's footsteps. She doesn't look back.
"Haha, I can throw it!" I repeat. She might have not heard it, I was finally better than my brother. She doesn't look back.
"HAHA…I CAN- " She turns around.
"So? You're a Prince, you're supposed to be like that." She walks coolly away.
I'm a Prince…I know…I know…
-5 yrs old-
I've stopped trying to get Mother's attention. She never looks back. She never smiles. Just like those faces since I was one. My brother got all the attention, he should be punished for it. Punished for always getting Mother's attention.
The battle between us start. Mother catches us in action.
"Belphegor, you're a Prince, stop acting like you're four!"
Sure, I'm a Prince. But all I ever wanted was her attention.
-6 yrs old-
Father died. Murdered by some guy I don't think I recognize. Silently, I follow Mother's footsteps outside of our garden and mansion. She sees a man in a silhouette.
"He's dead, I'm sure of it." The man whispers. He's dead?
"Great, darling, now we can be together…eternally… withoutmy husband's interference" Mother says and brings the silhouette man into her chest. They hug.
Interference… Mother…wanted Father dead, so she could be with this man. The man's hood falls down.
It's the man that told me I was a Prince the first day, it was the man that started my curse. I take out my knives and slash it out at theman's neck. He never saw me, and fell down to the ground in a puddle of screams and runs my way. I run into the bushes.
Mother acts like nothing ever happened then, she smiles atmy brother, gives him food, does the dishes then go tells him good night.
He always gets the attention.
Tonight, I was going to end things. End things for real.
I gave him some poison, forced it down his throat. I laugh. I pull him into the yard, no one hears me, and dig a big hole. He's struggling against me, his swords trying to stab me, but his eyes are blurry, definitely. He spits out some blood, I laugh again.
"Bye-bi!" I laugh as I throw him down the hole and fill it up with dirt. One shovel, two, three, four, five… it's full. He's stopped struggling, no more voices. I laugh and run back to my room, exhilarated.
-7 yrs old-
Mother's like a zombie now. Nothing happening every day, just walking into my room, look at my brother's bed that never got removed, and then walk out. I'm ignored…like usual. So it wasn't my brother's fault? I laugh again. Of course it was. It's a Prince's job to be a genius, and I wasn't going to make an error. It had to be his fault. Mother just hasn't recovered yet.
One day.
Two.
Three.
She's struggling everyday, I can see it in her eyes. It's pleading me, begging me, "end it, end my life."
I reject it at first, looking away from her eyes whenever I could, but they were so pitiful. So pitiful.
Then one day, she stopped coming into my room. I wake up and walk into her room. She's on the bed, her eyes open, but empty. I call 'Mother!', but she doesn't respond. Just an empty shell on the bed now.
I push her, trying to get her awake. Maybe she was daydreaming. She gasps for air, clinging onto her chest.
"Do you want me to end this for you?" I ask politely. She keeps on gasping for air.
"I will help you," I push her hair apart, and slide my knife through her neck. Blood…blood. I don't laugh, I just stand there, immobilized.
"Sleep tight, Mother."
- 8 yrs old-
I hear from my maids that I could be a professional killer. Let those like mother die easily, fast, they don't need the pain. I smile, this is what I wanted. Mother would have been proud of me.
"Sleep tight, Mother." I whisper to myself as I enter the Varia building.
"I am the Prince."
