Grave (Ashes sequel) #2|18+ (LL Series)

82~ Rain and Her (A)

Kalp's POV
~~~~~~~~~~

[Fifteen years ago]

A random day, gun in my hand, blood all over my flesh, and the pleading of victim under my mercy.

It won't be a common for random man but for me it is, I am bought up to slaughter, and my peace lies in blood.

The dark red liquid soothes my senses, causing my soul to witness the heaven of satisfaction.

My obsession with red and possession of the dead is never-ending, nor will it ever be satisfied.

I yearn for lively souls, just to turn them into the dead and paint the pages of happiness in red.

What do I gain in return with ruined cartilages and bones? It's a question that arises for every sane spirit, but the answer lies within the depths of the same query.

A rise of the monster within me, a smile on my lips. A reason to exist in this barren world for the demon in me.

My birth owner once said emotions are useless; you shouldn't feel them unless you want to be enslaved.

And I took those words to heart. I stopped being human. There's no fun in being an emotional fool, crying over everything. Instead, I find satisfaction in making every damn individual beg and cry.

The day you allow yourself to feel emotions, you're doomed. I am taught that I was born to crush, not to be crushed.

My demon doesn't allow me to become emotionally foolish and weak.

I'd be ashamed if I ever learned to feel those useless things, except for my little girl.

She was always an exception in my life, and she always will be. But others are nothing more than prey, and I love being a predator.

There's a first and last rule: don't leave a single reason to be played, but be ready to seize every opportunity to play with your victim.

"Sir, he's dead," Jade's voice interrupted me, halting my bloody hands from opening the skull of the dead body beneath my shoe.

I breathed heavily, spitting on the disgusting creature, and rose to my feet, throwing the dagger aside, it's blade dripping with thick red liquid.

"Just erase his existence," I ordered, discarding my white shirt, now stained red with blood.

I changed into another shirt handed to me by my assistant and grabbed the car keys from my man as I walked out of the godown, hopping into my Mercedes.

It's rare for me to stay in Mumbai, but the monsoon season here is frustrating. I just hate this rain and seeing happiness on people's faces.

To top it off, my already worsened mood made things even worse. I hope I find the fucker who leaked the information about my security, causing the armed forces to raid my godowns.

I literally hired local goons and created Rovara Psychic terrorism, killing thousands of Ugly Innocent people's who are nothing but burden on this earth.

I merely helped to reduce the population of this crowded country, yet this ungrateful people labelled me as terrorist.

Though, I fucking don't care about others opinions, but, Shouldn't they acknowledge my contribution to this country, no matter how shitty it may be?

I know I'm not a patriot, nor do I aspire to be. It was all about billions for me. I've always been involved in drug dealings and sex trafficking, and I just wanted to divert the government's attention.