Insomnia

'I did it because I had to.'

Rain pours down from the heavens, soaking my deer-skin parka. My hair, let alone the rest of my body, is beyond the point of being soaked. My inner soul, or what remains of it, is drenched.

I look down at the dead bodies laying at my feet; one, a king, the other his wife, the other two their daughters, twelve servants, and twenty guards-all dead because of me. But I don't feel bad for them, no squeamish feeling came to my stomach as I looked at the thirty-six dead, mutilated bodies in front of me.

'They were weak, helpless dogs in the real, terrible world.'

'You're mad Proticus, just like they labeled you as a kid. The monster you promised you would destroy, you became.'

'Don't you see you fool?! You are weak!! Just like the dogs lying at your feet!'

Tears well up in my eyes, but I try to hold them back. It was hopeless, I was evil, just as the local healer had told my dad when I was a young boy. He had told my dad that I was crazy, that I had a duel personality, and that I would constantly fight a battle within myself. This was of course terrible news, since my father is, was , the king. I was my father's only heir to the throne; now the throne would have to go to my younger sister's future husband.

Suddenly the memories of the past fueled my current anger. What was I fighting against? Myself, or the weak, helpless people that fill this hopeless planet?

I kick the body of my once existent father. His blank, emotionless face looks up into my eyes. I find myself bringing my sword down to his neck. A slight nudge sends my father's head rolling out of my makeshift home deep inside the Meorian Mountains.

After all, my disaster of a life is all his fault isn't it? A sudden burst of hysteric laughter burst from my chest. I hated my father, I hate the world, and I hate myself.

Once again, debating whether this should be merged into the mythology/background for my Heresy series I am writing.