Hello everyone, this is my first time writing a story and English isn't my native tongue. That being said I hope you will enjoy my story. I enjoy stories with characters that have flaws because I believe that's the only way to create interesting characters. It gives room for character growth. I am not sure about the release schedule yet, but I hope to establish a regular schedule soon. I hope to receive a lot of constructive criticism that will help me to improve. Without further ado enjoy!

Memories...

They are quite a curious thing, one moment you are feeling down and depressed about your day, the next you are remembering something delightful, and it can mend your mood at once. Then again, especially for me, it can go the other way around and a peaceful mood can be shattered by the past randomly invading your mind. Just like now, I was reading a book about a stupid girl name Alice who got herself trapped in a world of witchcraft and sorcery, and out of nowhere came a memory of my 5th birthday. It wasn't a particularly bad memory, just not something I would call peaceful, after all, it was the day when I first killed somebody.

You see I haven't grown up in what you would consider a "traditional family". First of all, I didn't have a mother and that's definitely the least of the issues that prevented my family from being "traditional". If lack of maternal affection was the most insignificant of all the reasons that made my upbringing rather unconventional then the most glaring would most likely be the fact that my father was an extremely savage criminal with a penchant for cruelty and murder.

Admittedly His character wasn't that strange given his circumstances, after all, trench warfare can change anyone, especially if those trenches were in Somme, France. That's where my father together with all of his brothers and most of his friends fought against the Germans during the cold fall and bleak winter of 1916. He was the only person from his battalion that managed to survive the first day of that meat grinder. His three brothers and all of his friends joined the other 19000 people who died on the very first day of that battle. Most of the people who fought in that battle were volunteers who saw combat for the first time in those deadly trenches. 141 days after losing anyone he ever held dear in his life my father was lucky to have avoided joining the ranks of 420000 British and 450000 German corpses. Though, I believed that not a single person from that battle ever came home truly alive.

After the war almost exactly 2 years after getting a taste of his first battle my father returned home to London. Where together with thousands of other war veterans he found that the only way to survive after the war was to embrace the welcoming cruelty of criminal life. With a bit of luck, a dash of savagery, a cup of cruelty and a huge pile of corpses my father managed to set up himself as one of the most influential people on the dark streets of London. During his rise to power, my father met my mother. A year after I was born, a cute little girl that had no clue what life would bring her. On the day of my first birthday, my father killed my mother after he discovered she was having an affair. My father thought that it was an omen and decided to make it a tradition, and so on every birthday after that, I was in the company of death. On my second, third, and fourth birthdays father killed someone in my presence. That's how I reached my fifth birthday with the first really clear memory that I have. My present on that day was a straight razor, with an extremely sharp edge and a cursive carving of my name on the handle. To christen my new blade father brought a tied-up man to me, who after a few attempts to plead for his life became my first victim.

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Now after thirteen years have passed since I claimed my first victim, I would dare to call myself quite a competent killer. To be honest I have long since lost the count of people I have killed, since not only have I kept receiving the same present from my father on every birthday, but I have also gone out of my way to find a way to feed my razor fresh blood as often as possible. My father believed that only through cruelty, bloodshed and death could a person truly be forged into a competent leader worthy of taking over his empire. After all, that's how he became the person that he is today. Many people would consider him insane and cruel, and they would be right. That however doesn't alter the fact that my father was also right, I did become a person he could proudly call his successor.

It is funny how a single random moment you happen to recall can take you down a memory lane and force you to think about your entire life. I wouldn’t say that I hate my father for the kind of life he forced upon me, after all, it was the only way, his broken mind could manage to “raise”, and I use that term very loosely, a child. Then again, I can't say that I say that I love him either, but I am not sure if that is the consequence of the peculiarities of his character, or which is more likely due to the fact that I have never loved anyone in my life, be it my first pet, friends I played with, people I plied my craft with, my teachers, the cute girl I shared my first kiss, the countless girls whose hearts I have broken since, not even myself. Sometimes I don’t think that I am even capable of feeling love. Maybe the creation of that inability was the reason behind my untraditional upbringing. My father does say that “Love is the single most useless emotion a human can have”. A sentiment I actually share with him, since through my 18 years of life I only saw the great weakness that love introduces into people's lives. Men become weak under the soothing voices of their wives, women betray their families and children for a tryst with a charming gypsy, and children risk their lives to save their beloved puppy. Nothing good ever comes from living with others. So, I am glad that I don’t seem to be able to love, and if there exists a person in this vast world of ours that can move my heart, I hope that she isn’t even on this planet so that I never run a risk of running into her.