“You’re a good one. Ruling us with a fair hand. Even those pigs who stuff themselves with heroin down south like you. I will never understand why you let them roam free like that. Maybe you’re just too kind to notice that they would never straighten up and get any help. You always see the good in everyone, don’t you? Of course you do, you were the best person to be around growing up. No wonder everyone favoured you over me. Please don’t misunderstand though, I hold no resentment to that whatsoever. You deserve it all, for being so amazing at everything. This nation loves you because you’re soft and caring, and you love it too, despite all the filth and grime that contaminates it. That is fine to you, isn’t it? You would rather have a unified utopia where everyone is happy, rather than focusing on becoming the best. Look at it now, it’s almost run by foul criminals that you, for some reason, acknowledge as citizens.”

“But I guess...” I continue, inching closer and closer to his face, “you were never really fit to rule were you, big brother? You spineless bastard.” I lean back.

He is still silent and staring while I start pacing around the marble floors. “History is a funny thing. It can uncover a lost time, but it can also cover up 8 years because everyone is too bothered to look through the insignificant parts. Wait, that’s how long you’ve been in charge for, right?” The clicking of my heels come to a stop as I turn to gaze at him. He continues to stare.

“Don’t look at me like that, I wouldn’t call your rule insignificant if that’s not exactly what it was!” I’m getting angry now. “Look at what you’ve done to this country! Look at it! Everyday, these dirty creatures roam around with no purpose to serve, causing some sort of inane mishap, and ruining our reputation as a country!” My neck is flexing from the volume my throat is expelling. The screams bounce off the marble pillars and echo for a second. I inhale deeply to collect myself befor speaking again.

“It’s okay though. I’m here now. I’ll make sure every single one of those wrong-doers are wiped clean off these lands, and we can have ourselves a new beginning. Does not sound nice? A new beginning? Sometimes, a million dead people is all you need to restart your life. I want to shoot every single one of them myself, and leave only the purest. They would like the violence, I think. Being treated the same way they have been treating the reputation of my land.” My scarlet lips stretch thinly, and my cheeks are starting to hurt from how wide I’m grinning. He continues to stare at me, like I’m some sort of lunatic.

A scowl is gracing my face now, surely. My eyebrows are knitted tightly, and the tension in my forehead seems to be increasing. “Stop mocking me, I am not crazy. I just want what’s best for this country. For our family. For the world.”

“Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re lying down on the floor, you don’t deserve my respect. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that in a few years, no one is going to remember the mess you made from going soft in the head. No one is going to remember what a mess we became because of your irresponsibility. No one is going to remember who you are. Your story has ended, so I will rewrite it. All they will see is me: the wonderful leader who regulates the nation with an iron fist.” I giggle a bit, fawning over the idea for a second. After contemplating it a bit more, I gasp, “I hope they turn me into a superhero. Oh wait, why am I hoping? I’ll make sure all the kids look up to me.”

I take cautious steps towards him, avoiding the mess on the floor. Crouching down to be at his level, I grasp his face with one hand, letting my manicured nails dig angry crescents into his skin. The gaping wound at the center of his forehead starts leaking again because of the force, and some of the blood trickles down my hand.

“Stop looking so forlorn, big brother. I’ll take care of it well, okay?” I smile softly. Rubbing my hands on his crisp white shirt, I stand up to look at his limp body. He’s still staring at me. I want to dig my high-heels through his eyes.

“Clean up the body,” I command the guard outside as I exit the room. He nods immediately before turning to push through the mahogany doors.

A new beginning.

There is a dark man,

In the corner,

Of my room.

Does he watch over me?

Does he want to rip my eyes out, cut my wrists, gauge my throat and steal my voice to use it

for his own purposes?

I am not safe.

Within the confines of these four walls which I can never bring myself to get out of,

he lies in the stark shadows,

shape-shifting shrewdly, hushed and shameful,

but never showing remorse for what is to come.

When the moon has collected itself and shares a bit of its luminescence,

I catch a glimpse of him. In all his disgusting glory, he towers.

No eyes to emanate his glare of hatred with,

he is a blind man, lost and scared,

yet ever so ready to pounce upon me.

I am his prey.

There are nights when I awaken, and he stares down at me.

I feel my perspiration penetrate the barriers of his pus and blood that drip onto me,

seeping through my skin and peeling off my clothes.

This potion replaces my tears, and for that night,

we become one in the same.

“An ignorable voice that screams for help,” he said I have.

My fingers twitch in a last scramble to save myself from the claws that pierce through my lungs.

And just as I think ‘This is it.’ He loosens his grasp around my neck,

drawing his hand back.

Tonight, I become a corpse once more,

grieving for the light that this monster steals from me.

He has not killed me yet. I wonder why

he lets go every time.

If he could hold on a second longer, I would be dead,

away from the misery he puts me through nightly.

Once more, the moonlight hits him,

and for a brief second I see his newest masterpiece.

His talons covered in the carcass of my forlorn past, sanguine paint slipping down his arm. How magnificent!

To see such a sight before my eyes,

gruesome yet alluring,

horrifying yet enticing.

I am almost glad he has chosen me, a fragile mortal, as his canvas,

turning a shattered pot into a flower vase.

Not my friend, not my foe. He is just, simply,

The dark man,

In the corner,

Of my room.