Author's note: I'm not sure if I want to write more. The original was about 20 pages, and very, VERY, descriptive. This is very watered down from the original product, I had to cut down on the descriptions and depictions of certain things quite a bit.
I may pick this back up again, and write more, or go into more detail about the lives of the unnamed main character, Wren, and Remilia. However, for now, I think I'm finished. This is easily one of favorite writings, and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy as much as I did.
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I’ve always been a logical, rational, and otherwise respectable human being. No matter what the subject may be, or what situation I’m in, I find that it’s always best to keep a cool head, to act rational in an otherwise irrational world. For twenty-four years I’ve held this mindset, and for twenty-four years I’ve watched as the human race plummets itself into a pool of stupidity.
Needless to say, in twenty-four years of life, I never fell in love once, for it was illogical, and for the most part, I felt it to be stupid. No one I had ever met was worth the time, nor the effort. Every single human being, as far as I was concerned, was a large, steaming, walking pile of shit. I would not, could not, take my time, my precious and valuable time, to meet or strike up a single conversation with anyone. It simply wasn’t worth it.
I was entering my final year of college. Tripling majoring in English, Criminology, and History, these were three subjects that fascinated me. Perhaps I could become a teacher of sorts, and teach the new generation of children not to be worthless piles of filth like their parents. One could only dream, even if dreams were illogical.
Walking down the hallways of my college campus, I saw the typical behavior that defined my time. Women that wore rags, and called it clothing, and Men that seemed to be physically unable to wear clothes that fit. Every last one of them pretending to be something that they weren’t, all of their personalities fake, a byproduct of what mainstream society wanted you to be: A clueless, ignorant, sack of human waste that could just so happen to walk and talk.
Society had done a damned fine job of figuring out how to brainwash people into thinking they were happy, thinking that they were free.
Needless to say, I hated them all. I hated them all with a passion. Hell, given the circumstances, I, until this day, cannot see how people managed to wake up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror and not want to die upon seeing just how pathetic they were. However, almost like a slap to the face, I realized that the average human being looks at themselves in the mirror to appease their own vanity for hours every day.
How I loathed them, how much I despised having the share the same air they breathed. They were a waste of perfectly fresh air.
I could go on and on about just how much I hated the society that I belonged to. I could go on for ages about how much I wanted to watch them all drop dead. The world would have been fine without them, and I could finally sit down and enjoy a moment of silence. However, I digress. This is not the story I want to tell at the moment.
I had just gotten back from a lecture that I had rather enjoyed. It was a grand lecture, and I had indeed learned much in just that hour, than most of these morons that I was surrounded by could learn in a month. As I walked back to my apartment, that’s when I saw her, and this is where my story begins.
For hours I could tell you how much logic and emotionless reasoning ruled my life, and for hours I could tell you how much I hated people, and yet all of that would mean nothing compared to the sight of her.
Perfection redefined, a Goddess in human form, the personification of flawlessness: That is what she was. Her hair a light brown, her slender figure, her frame so frail, her eyes an ocean of blue that the strongest swimmer could drown in, I was in love. Illogical, inconceivable, irrational, this was all of them, yet I didn’t care. This is what Angel’s envy, this is what every man in their right mind should chase, and what every Woman should aspire to be!
She couldn’t have been more than 5’7; she had a slender build, and looked lost. Before I even knew what I was doing, I asked her… I asked her what was wrong. She looked lost, she looked as if she was looking for something, and I wanted… No, I needed to help her. She looked up at me, and in that instant, I can honestly say I had never been happier in my life. She smiled, with those perfect lips of hers and asked, “Do you know where I can find the main office, sir?”
That voice… The voice of an Angel, a voice that could drive a man insane by the simple sound of it, was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Soft, well spoken, light and polite, it was the most incredible thing I had ever heard in my life. I told her where she could find the office, and I asked her for her name. “Wren”, she replied. “Thank you very much, sir”, she said as she went on her merry way.
In that instant, watching her leave, as a simple walk down the hall turned into an eternity, I realized just how alone I was. Wren, what a perfect name, for such a perfect girl. I eventually made it back to my apartment in what must have seemed to everyone else, a drunken stupor. Placing my bag down on the desk, I walked to my room, with my eyes wide open, laid down in my bed, and I cried.
I was alone, I was lonely, and the realization of it was crippling. That goddess, that beautiful woman, she was the girl that men would wage wars for, the soul desire to be next to her could cost men their lives, and yet no one would care, not when they have her next to their side. My eyes full of tears, I couldn’t get her image out of my head. Angels took away Annabel Lee because of the love she shared with her lover. I had the idea that the Angels would take away Wren from everyone, because they could never share her beauty. This is what the Seraphs envied.
To feel her warmth in my arms, to be with her, comfort her, protect her… That’s all that I wanted.
Oh dearest Wren, you have no idea how badly I wanted for you to just say my name. To hear it, on your lips, your sweet, tender, beautiful, flawless lips, it would be to die for. Needless to say, the following day when I saw you in four out of six of my college classes, I was ecstatic. To be able to see you for four hours of my day was more than a simpleton like me could ask for. I was undeserving of your presence, yet I was greedy, I needed it.
I would note the mannerisms that you had, to how you would sit down, to the way you twirled your hair with your finger as you grew bored. It may sound wrong, and it may sound somewhat scary, but I couldn’t help myself. You were a Goddess amongst women, and I was yet a simple peasant, attempting to fly too close to the sun.
There were times when I would attempt to speak to you, to let you know that I exist, to just let you know that there was a friendly person nearby that would help you do anything. Yet I never quite could figure out how to say these things. It wasn’t that I was shy, it wasn’t that I was timid, I simply couldn’t figure out how. I wanted to, and I wanted to dearly, yet my own inability to strike a conversation was amazing. So instead of speaking to you, telling you who I was, and getting to know you, I could do nothing but watch you, my Wren, as you were off in your own world, your own little corner of perfection.
With no choice but to watch, rather than to say anything at all, I would note the days you were happy, and the days that you were sad. And for everyday that you didn’t look happy, I always wondered if there was anything that I could do to make you feel better. Yet, I realized that I was good for nothing. If anything, I would only make you feel worse. Therefore, I had come to the conclusion that any contact with you whatsoever would be… wrong. I couldn’t possibly make you happy, I was unable, and I was perfectly aware of this.
So when I noticed that you started dating other men on campus, while I was jealous, I never did anything, never even made myself known to you. I would watch as a smile lit across your perfectly symmetrical face. If you were happy, who was I to do anything about it? So what if it was with another man? You were happy, and that’s all I cared about.
However, after a while, I would notice that you would walk into the class upset or sad and it had me worried. Then after a while, I noticed the light in your eyes that shown brightest when you were happy, was no longer there. Instead, it was replaced with the dim and dull light of depression. After a while, I was able to piece one and one together, and realized that the miserable sack of filth you were dating broke your heart.
My dearest Wren, this is where I must admit, I have been a little naughty. The crime of making you unhappy is, in my eyes, punishable by death. You may recall that a student was beaten to death on campus… You see, my dearest Wren, I must confess, I have indeed been a little naughty. In a mixture of hatred and jealous rage, I picked up what became a close friend, a baseball bat that I had since I was eight years of age.
I then tracked him down, and with what can only be described as furious justice, divine anger, a passionate yet brutal moment of justice that was carried out by the most unlikely of individuals: Me. I smiled, I laughed, and I cringed with pleasure with each and every stroke of my baseball bat as I carried out the noblest thing I had ever done. I rid the world of someone that hurt you, and I enjoyed every single second of it.
I remember watching his blood flow from his head onto the wooden floor of his flat. I remember screaming at him that it wasn’t far. It wasn’t fair that he could have you! It wasn’t fair that he got to be near you, whereas I was stuck on the sidelines, watching as he hugged you, kissed you, and ran his hand through your hair. And then to just watch him throw that away, to break your heart, to make you cry… it was unforgivable!
It really isn’t fair, and I yelled it out loud as my bat came crashing down, making his face unrecognizable to anyone. I enjoyed spraying his brain and his blood all over his wall. This murderous passion flowing through my veins, creating abstract art onto his wall, it was glorious. How could you love this man? How could you love him, and yet not me? I wouldn’t hurt you, I would never dream of it, I don’t even think it’s physically possible for me to even lift a finger towards you. It wasn’t fair, and I hated him for it. I made sure he paid for it.
I’ve done nothing wrong, my dear. That bastard is dead, chunks of his brain staining the wall of that flat forever. The only ones to ever remember that pile of filth is myself, and the cops that had to scrape and pick his brain from the walls and floor of his otherwise spotless flat. Not a court in the world would convict me… However, not a single cop in the world would ever know it was me.
I covered my tracks, and I covered them well.
It took a couple of weeks, but you were back to your normal self, and seeing that, I was happy. I do not know what took you, but you seemed to have an attraction to Men that are of the most abject filth. I seriously cannot fathom how you can waste your time on them. Yet, I cannot question your judgement, if they made you happy, I couldn’t question it.
However, for everyone that broke you heart, I made sure that their heart stopped beating. You may recall one of your ex lovers who drowned in a boating accident. Now, why would someone that couldn’t swim be out on a boat? A little push was all it took, and he never bothered you again, my dear.
Or the ex lover who fell from the roof of the main building. Why would a man afraid of heights be up there in the first place? No matter. He fell to his death and I couldn’t have been any less thrilled. I honestly did believe that one to be the worst one. The way he talked about you was terrifying to me. He treated you as property, and the he left you because you didn’t like the way he treated you. To make matters worse, that scum laid his filthy hands on you, and gave you a rather large bruise.
Tricking him up the stairs to the roof put me in direct danger. I had to trip him in the hallway, and being the huge, stupid brute that he was, he took that bait and chased me up those stairs. Once there, he did manage to hit me pretty hard in the face, and I won’t lie, it did hurt. But that amount of pain was tiny, and I would gladly take it again to do you a service. Even though he landed the first blow, I made sure the next was the last. Running to the bat that I had placed up there the day before, I held my friend tight in my head and I hit him once, twice, three times, and pushed his body off the roof. While I ran back down the stairs, I could only think of two things, not getting caught, and how a baseball player must feel as he hit a home run.
Home run! Grand slam! Out of the park! All of these terms came to mind as I smiled upon riding the world, and more importantly you of that low life pile of filth.
My dearest Wren, I would wage wars, commit genocide, murder and mane, just to be close to you. I would do far worse just to make sure that you were protected at all costs. I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you again.
With a huge bruise on my cheek, I noticed as for the first time since we first met in the hallway that fateful day. You looked at me with legitimate concern, and you asked me what had happened. You asked me what had happened. I had no choice but to lie, and I apologize, dear Wren. I had to tell you that I had been mugged. Of course, you believed me, and asked me if I was okay, and I was. With you actually speaking to me, I was more than okay. You sat next to me that day, as we went over Shakespeare and Milton.
I thought that would never happen again, but you continued to sit next to me in every class, and this continued, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Then came the day you asked me for my name. I was unworthy; this was too good to be true. I expected to wake up, and have this all be some sick and cruel joke brought on to me by my subconscious. I gave you my name, and you said it… You said my name. This remains, to this day, as one of the highlights of my life.
We then started speaking on a daily basis. A first name basis even, and every time you spoke my name, my heart beat faster as it swelled up inside my chest. Wren, the most beautiful girl in the world, simply saying my name was a gift that no one could ever take away from me. From then on, I helped you with homework, I helped you with everything that I could. Eventually, this simple friendship did blossom into an actual relationship. I asked you out on a date, to which you accepted. I could have died right there, my heart could have stopped on the spot, but it kept beating.
The rest, dear Wren is history. We wed years later, and I was the happiest person in the world. Then, you were pregnant with our daughter, whom of which we had decided to name Remilia. However, during the pregnancy there were… complications. You couldn’t make it, my dear Wren.
And as quickly as I had finally gotten you, you were now gone.
Gone.
And I was alone.
What kind of game was this? How could this have happened? I didn’t understand, I didn’t want to understand. I treated you like a queen, and you were happy, I was making you happy. We were married for five years, and I could watch the tapes and see how happy you where. Yet now you were gone… This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t right. But…
But…
You left me a daughter, a piece of you to remember you by, our daughter, Remilia. I stayed in that hospital room for hours, with our daughter in another room, while I looked upon your lifeless body. Your porcelain skin now cold to the touch, your eyes once full of life and amazement, now cold, empty, and dull. It was odd, for it seemed as if you were smiling in death, just as how you had always smiled in life. I don’t believe in a Heaven, but I would like to believe that if one existed, you would be there, happy there as you were happy here. Your dazzling perfection outshining the angels, causing them to be envious for all eternity.
I cried, I must have cried for hours. Even after you family and mine were called, and they stood over you and I. It wasn’t fair that someone as perfect as you had to die. I would have gladly traded my life for yours. If anything, it was I who deserved to die. No one knew I had ever murdered before, not even you. I would imagine that if you had ever found out, you would have left me on the spot. Dearest Wren, I could never say it enough, but I loved you, I love you, and twenty years from now on my death bed, I will love you then. You were the only person I had ever met that I didn’t find disgusting. You were my life, you were my everything.
Now, our dearest daughter Remilia… She’s a bundle of joy, just like her Mother. She most definitely takes after you. Which I suppose is very lucky for her. I find that if she took after me, her life would be rather hellish. She’s an angel in her own right, she is. Always smiling, always there waiting for me. Every time I walk into a room, her gaze lights up, and she smiles and laughs.
Upon your death, I opened up a book store. Right here in the heart of the city you and I lived in. I could no longer stay in our home. Sleeping in our bed was too painful alone. Eventually I moved onto the couch and slept on it, but even then, the memories of you haunted me. The placed seemed empty without you, so I moved to the book store. Upstairs was a large flat for myself and our child, and in my opinion, it was the perfect place to start over. I hung pictures of you everywhere, so when our daughter grew up, she could know what her mother looked like.
‘Till this day, the bookstore is going very well. I named it “Wren’s Rare Books”, and we carry just about everything. (Save for certain titles about vampires that I will not discuss here.) I make more than enough money to provide for myself and dearest Remilia.
Remilia is brilliant, she really is. At the age of two she spoke to me, not just one word, she managed an entire sentence! “I love you, Father.” I’ll never forget how my heart just melted from it.
It’s true what they say, children really do grow up quickly. At the age of four she was reading Moby Dick, and playing video games. I was quite proud of her when I brought in an old Nintendo and she started beating all the games I had for it.
Once it came time for school, she took it very well. Even her teachers said that she was miles ahead of the other kids as they came to shop for books. Our daughter Remilia, she’s what other children should aspire to be. She’s going to grow up to be something one day, unlike all of those other kids. I’m impressed that they can even manage two syllable words. Remilia can use the term “moral ambiguity” in a sentence, understand what it means, and say it flawlessly.
Like her Mother, she’s superior in every aspect to those around her.
Later on, as she grew older, and flew threw her classes like it was no one’s business but her own, I watched as her hair started to look exactly like yours, and even her sense of clothing was eerily the same. Yet, I didn’t mind, I was happy. She read books like a wild woman though. Going through every book in the store at one point, and wanting to read more every day, she started demanding trips to the library after a while.
Of course, I couldn’t deny her that. I was more than happy to do so. However, while there I would notice the gaze of rather questionable men as they would give her funny looks. Instantly I’m reminded of men that once harmed you, Wren. It worries me, it truly does.
Growing older, Remilia blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and men around her were taking notice. However, she wasn’t interested in them. She spoke of how they were “ignorant morons” and “inferior to a pile of filth” and then tacked on that would be “insulting the filth”.
Dearest Wren, she most definitely got your looks, but I’m very sure she obtained my personality.
She’s very strong willed, and doesn’t use words with apostrophes very often. Choosing to say “I am” rather than “I’m”, or “it does not matter” instead of “it doesn’t matter”. However, I guess even she wanted to feel what love was. However, she would tell me, “I would date another man, but they are all idiots as far as I am concerned.”
We started watching movies often. Something I used to not let her do at all. I didn’t want to expose her to the trash that Hollywood was pouring out, but one day Remilia had gotten interested in horror movies. As odd as it was, she and I watched all of the horror movie classics together. She loved the just as much as I did. Even now, she tells me that her favorite horror movie character is Michael Myers, and Freddy Cruger.
Wren, our daughter is perfect. Other parents should feel ashamed that their kids didn’t come out as great as ours.
Now, at the tender age of sixteen, I watch as our daughter goes out on dates. I won’t lie, I’m beyond worry. However, God help the poor bastard that breaks her heart… I was afraid that she would start dressing provocatively, but she never did. Which was good for me, as a single Father that would have been one hell of a conversation, I don’t think I could have handled that well.
One day, she came back home, rather angry and upset. I asked her what was wrong, to which she only told me, “That boy is an idiot. Lowest of the low, morons like him shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the same air as me.” She was angry, and almost in tears as she told me that the idiot in question attempted to kiss and grope her.
Oh, dearest Wren, dearest Remilia, Father has got a date with an old friend tonight.
I may pick this back up again, and write more, or go into more detail about the lives of the unnamed main character, Wren, and Remilia. However, for now, I think I'm finished. This is easily one of favorite writings, and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy as much as I did.
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I’ve always been a logical, rational, and otherwise respectable human being. No matter what the subject may be, or what situation I’m in, I find that it’s always best to keep a cool head, to act rational in an otherwise irrational world. For twenty-four years I’ve held this mindset, and for twenty-four years I’ve watched as the human race plummets itself into a pool of stupidity.
Needless to say, in twenty-four years of life, I never fell in love once, for it was illogical, and for the most part, I felt it to be stupid. No one I had ever met was worth the time, nor the effort. Every single human being, as far as I was concerned, was a large, steaming, walking pile of shit. I would not, could not, take my time, my precious and valuable time, to meet or strike up a single conversation with anyone. It simply wasn’t worth it.
I was entering my final year of college. Tripling majoring in English, Criminology, and History, these were three subjects that fascinated me. Perhaps I could become a teacher of sorts, and teach the new generation of children not to be worthless piles of filth like their parents. One could only dream, even if dreams were illogical.
Walking down the hallways of my college campus, I saw the typical behavior that defined my time. Women that wore rags, and called it clothing, and Men that seemed to be physically unable to wear clothes that fit. Every last one of them pretending to be something that they weren’t, all of their personalities fake, a byproduct of what mainstream society wanted you to be: A clueless, ignorant, sack of human waste that could just so happen to walk and talk.
Society had done a damned fine job of figuring out how to brainwash people into thinking they were happy, thinking that they were free.
Needless to say, I hated them all. I hated them all with a passion. Hell, given the circumstances, I, until this day, cannot see how people managed to wake up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror and not want to die upon seeing just how pathetic they were. However, almost like a slap to the face, I realized that the average human being looks at themselves in the mirror to appease their own vanity for hours every day.
How I loathed them, how much I despised having the share the same air they breathed. They were a waste of perfectly fresh air.
I could go on and on about just how much I hated the society that I belonged to. I could go on for ages about how much I wanted to watch them all drop dead. The world would have been fine without them, and I could finally sit down and enjoy a moment of silence. However, I digress. This is not the story I want to tell at the moment.
I had just gotten back from a lecture that I had rather enjoyed. It was a grand lecture, and I had indeed learned much in just that hour, than most of these morons that I was surrounded by could learn in a month. As I walked back to my apartment, that’s when I saw her, and this is where my story begins.
For hours I could tell you how much logic and emotionless reasoning ruled my life, and for hours I could tell you how much I hated people, and yet all of that would mean nothing compared to the sight of her.
Perfection redefined, a Goddess in human form, the personification of flawlessness: That is what she was. Her hair a light brown, her slender figure, her frame so frail, her eyes an ocean of blue that the strongest swimmer could drown in, I was in love. Illogical, inconceivable, irrational, this was all of them, yet I didn’t care. This is what Angel’s envy, this is what every man in their right mind should chase, and what every Woman should aspire to be!
She couldn’t have been more than 5’7; she had a slender build, and looked lost. Before I even knew what I was doing, I asked her… I asked her what was wrong. She looked lost, she looked as if she was looking for something, and I wanted… No, I needed to help her. She looked up at me, and in that instant, I can honestly say I had never been happier in my life. She smiled, with those perfect lips of hers and asked, “Do you know where I can find the main office, sir?”
That voice… The voice of an Angel, a voice that could drive a man insane by the simple sound of it, was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Soft, well spoken, light and polite, it was the most incredible thing I had ever heard in my life. I told her where she could find the office, and I asked her for her name. “Wren”, she replied. “Thank you very much, sir”, she said as she went on her merry way.
In that instant, watching her leave, as a simple walk down the hall turned into an eternity, I realized just how alone I was. Wren, what a perfect name, for such a perfect girl. I eventually made it back to my apartment in what must have seemed to everyone else, a drunken stupor. Placing my bag down on the desk, I walked to my room, with my eyes wide open, laid down in my bed, and I cried.
I was alone, I was lonely, and the realization of it was crippling. That goddess, that beautiful woman, she was the girl that men would wage wars for, the soul desire to be next to her could cost men their lives, and yet no one would care, not when they have her next to their side. My eyes full of tears, I couldn’t get her image out of my head. Angels took away Annabel Lee because of the love she shared with her lover. I had the idea that the Angels would take away Wren from everyone, because they could never share her beauty. This is what the Seraphs envied.
To feel her warmth in my arms, to be with her, comfort her, protect her… That’s all that I wanted.
Oh dearest Wren, you have no idea how badly I wanted for you to just say my name. To hear it, on your lips, your sweet, tender, beautiful, flawless lips, it would be to die for. Needless to say, the following day when I saw you in four out of six of my college classes, I was ecstatic. To be able to see you for four hours of my day was more than a simpleton like me could ask for. I was undeserving of your presence, yet I was greedy, I needed it.
I would note the mannerisms that you had, to how you would sit down, to the way you twirled your hair with your finger as you grew bored. It may sound wrong, and it may sound somewhat scary, but I couldn’t help myself. You were a Goddess amongst women, and I was yet a simple peasant, attempting to fly too close to the sun.
There were times when I would attempt to speak to you, to let you know that I exist, to just let you know that there was a friendly person nearby that would help you do anything. Yet I never quite could figure out how to say these things. It wasn’t that I was shy, it wasn’t that I was timid, I simply couldn’t figure out how. I wanted to, and I wanted to dearly, yet my own inability to strike a conversation was amazing. So instead of speaking to you, telling you who I was, and getting to know you, I could do nothing but watch you, my Wren, as you were off in your own world, your own little corner of perfection.
With no choice but to watch, rather than to say anything at all, I would note the days you were happy, and the days that you were sad. And for everyday that you didn’t look happy, I always wondered if there was anything that I could do to make you feel better. Yet, I realized that I was good for nothing. If anything, I would only make you feel worse. Therefore, I had come to the conclusion that any contact with you whatsoever would be… wrong. I couldn’t possibly make you happy, I was unable, and I was perfectly aware of this.
So when I noticed that you started dating other men on campus, while I was jealous, I never did anything, never even made myself known to you. I would watch as a smile lit across your perfectly symmetrical face. If you were happy, who was I to do anything about it? So what if it was with another man? You were happy, and that’s all I cared about.
However, after a while, I would notice that you would walk into the class upset or sad and it had me worried. Then after a while, I noticed the light in your eyes that shown brightest when you were happy, was no longer there. Instead, it was replaced with the dim and dull light of depression. After a while, I was able to piece one and one together, and realized that the miserable sack of filth you were dating broke your heart.
My dearest Wren, this is where I must admit, I have been a little naughty. The crime of making you unhappy is, in my eyes, punishable by death. You may recall that a student was beaten to death on campus… You see, my dearest Wren, I must confess, I have indeed been a little naughty. In a mixture of hatred and jealous rage, I picked up what became a close friend, a baseball bat that I had since I was eight years of age.
I then tracked him down, and with what can only be described as furious justice, divine anger, a passionate yet brutal moment of justice that was carried out by the most unlikely of individuals: Me. I smiled, I laughed, and I cringed with pleasure with each and every stroke of my baseball bat as I carried out the noblest thing I had ever done. I rid the world of someone that hurt you, and I enjoyed every single second of it.
I remember watching his blood flow from his head onto the wooden floor of his flat. I remember screaming at him that it wasn’t far. It wasn’t fair that he could have you! It wasn’t fair that he got to be near you, whereas I was stuck on the sidelines, watching as he hugged you, kissed you, and ran his hand through your hair. And then to just watch him throw that away, to break your heart, to make you cry… it was unforgivable!
It really isn’t fair, and I yelled it out loud as my bat came crashing down, making his face unrecognizable to anyone. I enjoyed spraying his brain and his blood all over his wall. This murderous passion flowing through my veins, creating abstract art onto his wall, it was glorious. How could you love this man? How could you love him, and yet not me? I wouldn’t hurt you, I would never dream of it, I don’t even think it’s physically possible for me to even lift a finger towards you. It wasn’t fair, and I hated him for it. I made sure he paid for it.
I’ve done nothing wrong, my dear. That bastard is dead, chunks of his brain staining the wall of that flat forever. The only ones to ever remember that pile of filth is myself, and the cops that had to scrape and pick his brain from the walls and floor of his otherwise spotless flat. Not a court in the world would convict me… However, not a single cop in the world would ever know it was me.
I covered my tracks, and I covered them well.
It took a couple of weeks, but you were back to your normal self, and seeing that, I was happy. I do not know what took you, but you seemed to have an attraction to Men that are of the most abject filth. I seriously cannot fathom how you can waste your time on them. Yet, I cannot question your judgement, if they made you happy, I couldn’t question it.
However, for everyone that broke you heart, I made sure that their heart stopped beating. You may recall one of your ex lovers who drowned in a boating accident. Now, why would someone that couldn’t swim be out on a boat? A little push was all it took, and he never bothered you again, my dear.
Or the ex lover who fell from the roof of the main building. Why would a man afraid of heights be up there in the first place? No matter. He fell to his death and I couldn’t have been any less thrilled. I honestly did believe that one to be the worst one. The way he talked about you was terrifying to me. He treated you as property, and the he left you because you didn’t like the way he treated you. To make matters worse, that scum laid his filthy hands on you, and gave you a rather large bruise.
Tricking him up the stairs to the roof put me in direct danger. I had to trip him in the hallway, and being the huge, stupid brute that he was, he took that bait and chased me up those stairs. Once there, he did manage to hit me pretty hard in the face, and I won’t lie, it did hurt. But that amount of pain was tiny, and I would gladly take it again to do you a service. Even though he landed the first blow, I made sure the next was the last. Running to the bat that I had placed up there the day before, I held my friend tight in my head and I hit him once, twice, three times, and pushed his body off the roof. While I ran back down the stairs, I could only think of two things, not getting caught, and how a baseball player must feel as he hit a home run.
Home run! Grand slam! Out of the park! All of these terms came to mind as I smiled upon riding the world, and more importantly you of that low life pile of filth.
My dearest Wren, I would wage wars, commit genocide, murder and mane, just to be close to you. I would do far worse just to make sure that you were protected at all costs. I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you again.
With a huge bruise on my cheek, I noticed as for the first time since we first met in the hallway that fateful day. You looked at me with legitimate concern, and you asked me what had happened. You asked me what had happened. I had no choice but to lie, and I apologize, dear Wren. I had to tell you that I had been mugged. Of course, you believed me, and asked me if I was okay, and I was. With you actually speaking to me, I was more than okay. You sat next to me that day, as we went over Shakespeare and Milton.
I thought that would never happen again, but you continued to sit next to me in every class, and this continued, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Then came the day you asked me for my name. I was unworthy; this was too good to be true. I expected to wake up, and have this all be some sick and cruel joke brought on to me by my subconscious. I gave you my name, and you said it… You said my name. This remains, to this day, as one of the highlights of my life.
We then started speaking on a daily basis. A first name basis even, and every time you spoke my name, my heart beat faster as it swelled up inside my chest. Wren, the most beautiful girl in the world, simply saying my name was a gift that no one could ever take away from me. From then on, I helped you with homework, I helped you with everything that I could. Eventually, this simple friendship did blossom into an actual relationship. I asked you out on a date, to which you accepted. I could have died right there, my heart could have stopped on the spot, but it kept beating.
The rest, dear Wren is history. We wed years later, and I was the happiest person in the world. Then, you were pregnant with our daughter, whom of which we had decided to name Remilia. However, during the pregnancy there were… complications. You couldn’t make it, my dear Wren.
And as quickly as I had finally gotten you, you were now gone.
Gone.
And I was alone.
What kind of game was this? How could this have happened? I didn’t understand, I didn’t want to understand. I treated you like a queen, and you were happy, I was making you happy. We were married for five years, and I could watch the tapes and see how happy you where. Yet now you were gone… This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t right. But…
But…
You left me a daughter, a piece of you to remember you by, our daughter, Remilia. I stayed in that hospital room for hours, with our daughter in another room, while I looked upon your lifeless body. Your porcelain skin now cold to the touch, your eyes once full of life and amazement, now cold, empty, and dull. It was odd, for it seemed as if you were smiling in death, just as how you had always smiled in life. I don’t believe in a Heaven, but I would like to believe that if one existed, you would be there, happy there as you were happy here. Your dazzling perfection outshining the angels, causing them to be envious for all eternity.
I cried, I must have cried for hours. Even after you family and mine were called, and they stood over you and I. It wasn’t fair that someone as perfect as you had to die. I would have gladly traded my life for yours. If anything, it was I who deserved to die. No one knew I had ever murdered before, not even you. I would imagine that if you had ever found out, you would have left me on the spot. Dearest Wren, I could never say it enough, but I loved you, I love you, and twenty years from now on my death bed, I will love you then. You were the only person I had ever met that I didn’t find disgusting. You were my life, you were my everything.
Now, our dearest daughter Remilia… She’s a bundle of joy, just like her Mother. She most definitely takes after you. Which I suppose is very lucky for her. I find that if she took after me, her life would be rather hellish. She’s an angel in her own right, she is. Always smiling, always there waiting for me. Every time I walk into a room, her gaze lights up, and she smiles and laughs.
Upon your death, I opened up a book store. Right here in the heart of the city you and I lived in. I could no longer stay in our home. Sleeping in our bed was too painful alone. Eventually I moved onto the couch and slept on it, but even then, the memories of you haunted me. The placed seemed empty without you, so I moved to the book store. Upstairs was a large flat for myself and our child, and in my opinion, it was the perfect place to start over. I hung pictures of you everywhere, so when our daughter grew up, she could know what her mother looked like.
‘Till this day, the bookstore is going very well. I named it “Wren’s Rare Books”, and we carry just about everything. (Save for certain titles about vampires that I will not discuss here.) I make more than enough money to provide for myself and dearest Remilia.
Remilia is brilliant, she really is. At the age of two she spoke to me, not just one word, she managed an entire sentence! “I love you, Father.” I’ll never forget how my heart just melted from it.
It’s true what they say, children really do grow up quickly. At the age of four she was reading Moby Dick, and playing video games. I was quite proud of her when I brought in an old Nintendo and she started beating all the games I had for it.
Once it came time for school, she took it very well. Even her teachers said that she was miles ahead of the other kids as they came to shop for books. Our daughter Remilia, she’s what other children should aspire to be. She’s going to grow up to be something one day, unlike all of those other kids. I’m impressed that they can even manage two syllable words. Remilia can use the term “moral ambiguity” in a sentence, understand what it means, and say it flawlessly.
Like her Mother, she’s superior in every aspect to those around her.
Later on, as she grew older, and flew threw her classes like it was no one’s business but her own, I watched as her hair started to look exactly like yours, and even her sense of clothing was eerily the same. Yet, I didn’t mind, I was happy. She read books like a wild woman though. Going through every book in the store at one point, and wanting to read more every day, she started demanding trips to the library after a while.
Of course, I couldn’t deny her that. I was more than happy to do so. However, while there I would notice the gaze of rather questionable men as they would give her funny looks. Instantly I’m reminded of men that once harmed you, Wren. It worries me, it truly does.
Growing older, Remilia blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and men around her were taking notice. However, she wasn’t interested in them. She spoke of how they were “ignorant morons” and “inferior to a pile of filth” and then tacked on that would be “insulting the filth”.
Dearest Wren, she most definitely got your looks, but I’m very sure she obtained my personality.
She’s very strong willed, and doesn’t use words with apostrophes very often. Choosing to say “I am” rather than “I’m”, or “it does not matter” instead of “it doesn’t matter”. However, I guess even she wanted to feel what love was. However, she would tell me, “I would date another man, but they are all idiots as far as I am concerned.”
We started watching movies often. Something I used to not let her do at all. I didn’t want to expose her to the trash that Hollywood was pouring out, but one day Remilia had gotten interested in horror movies. As odd as it was, she and I watched all of the horror movie classics together. She loved the just as much as I did. Even now, she tells me that her favorite horror movie character is Michael Myers, and Freddy Cruger.
Wren, our daughter is perfect. Other parents should feel ashamed that their kids didn’t come out as great as ours.
Now, at the tender age of sixteen, I watch as our daughter goes out on dates. I won’t lie, I’m beyond worry. However, God help the poor bastard that breaks her heart… I was afraid that she would start dressing provocatively, but she never did. Which was good for me, as a single Father that would have been one hell of a conversation, I don’t think I could have handled that well.
One day, she came back home, rather angry and upset. I asked her what was wrong, to which she only told me, “That boy is an idiot. Lowest of the low, morons like him shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the same air as me.” She was angry, and almost in tears as she told me that the idiot in question attempted to kiss and grope her.
Oh, dearest Wren, dearest Remilia, Father has got a date with an old friend tonight.
And the juxtaposition of his raging cynicism and then blind infatuation was interesting, because it immediately showed him to be susceptible to the same emotional tangibility he'd just been raging about in the previous sentences 
It was a bit unusual, as a reader, to oscillate between feeling empathetic for the main character and then five sentences later, shrink away from his psychotic thoughts and behaviors 