Emperor of Mayhem

14

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If I got a penny for every time I said to myself, Mr Varkov is a beast, I would probably be so rich I could buy an island in Maldives. Seriously, this man with soulless eyes, and empty heart was the definition of evil itself. Forget his inhumane gorgeousness, he was as close to a monster as a being could be.

With tension and the stench of blood, I remained frozen in the same spot, heart beating out of my chest while my worrisome gaze shifted between him and the man lying on the cold tiles, still, and yet drowning in the pool of his own blood. And all that was going through my head was, I killed him. I literally just walked in and killed this poor man.

He probably had plans to execute after this night, and thousands of nights to come. He had his future ahead of him. Death was definitely not an option for him today. He didn't wake up and think, hey, I might as well just die today. But somehow, mistaking me for a prostitute or whatever it was he thought of me as, led him to his untimely death. He was too young, too handsome, even, but now he was gone. Another night, another death of an innocent man in my head. How ironic that I had never held a gun and yet, I had killed over hundred people in a span of three weeks.

"Why?" My voice cracked when my jumbled brain could finally piece alphabets together to make a word, "Why?" I asked again, my teary eyes glaring at his cold ones.

"He was going to take advantage of you." He said, his voice a flicker with hate as his dark eyes flashed to the dead man then came back to rest on me, slightly warm, "If I didn't get here just in time what would you hav-"

"-I would have handled it, Mr Varkov!" I had to raise my voice at this point because seriously, this was getting out of hand. I couldn't continue to pretend as though his insensitivity toward the life of another man wasn't taking a toll on me. For crying out loud, even an agent of death wouldn't just take a life in the fleeting way Mr Varkov always did without blinking.

"Of course," He chuckled, but without mirth, his jaws ticking in disapproval of the tone I chose to use on him, "You were fucking handling it when you literally just sprawled there doing nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"I was handling it." My lips were pressed together in a thin line, fist clenched beside me but all I could do though, was be angry and glare, "You didn't have to kill him. You could have given him another chance to redeem himself."

"I'm guessing we haven't officially met," there was a wicked smirk at the corner of his lips, "Well, I'm Mikhail, mayhem is me. When I aim it's death on my mind. Try not to expect second chances from, darling cause for me, that's a luxury above my budget." He said almost with pride, not a single trace of remorse in his cold tone.

"But you have pointed a gun at me before," I reminded him, "Yet here I am, still breathing. What makes me different from the others?"

He chuckled darkly, taking a step further into the room so that he was now standing close enough to grab a lock of my braid, "You are Azania," his tone was husky, breath hot against my face, "My favorite person. I couldn't dare to give you even a little scratch, little one." Then he let go of the hair, creating a distance between us again.

"He was drunk." I whispered, ignoring how his words made me fluttery inside, "He thought I was someone else. I was the one that barged into his room. I was the one at fault, Mr Varkov. You didn't have to kill him."

My stomach continued to twist in knots, heart aching for the man on the floor, and his family who definitely cherished him and would be broken at the news of his sudden death. What kind of a life was I suddenly living? I could never stay in a space where a fly was hurt before, and now humans were actually dying in my case. I saw blood almost every day. I was tired. I couldn't continue this. I just couldn't.