Charles

~~~

It's been twelve days since I killed him. It's starting to sink in. It also seems the only thing I'm able to think about anymore. After all, it used to be my entire life's purpose.

Now, it seems so clear to me. He was insane. My father, that is. I do not know how no one realized this while he was still alive, but now I know it for sure. All the things he did, he did with rage and hate, slowly pushing the realm into destruction. If Mark is going to have a hard time taking control over the lands again, it's going to be our father's fault.

I've heard him mumble under his breath, talking to himself. "Tomorrow, tomorrow, or yesterday?". Back then I had thought it was all in my head, but now I know, oh yes, I know.

He would roam the dark halls of the mansion, raging at life and at all that stood in his way. He was obsessed with the throne, and he feared that if he died, this precious possession of his would go to waste, if Mark wasn't able to inherit it. But not just that - he was afraid of losing the throne himself. He feared the prospect of death, and was furious that he'd have to give away his throne, his object of monomania, away. His hatred, his paranoia, it consumed him. He was a madman, and he deserved to die.

But it's fine now. He's dead now. I took care of it. It was a good deed, one that he deserved. It must've seemed like mercy to him in his last seconds of life. I set him free of his obsession, his addiction. His soul was free to burn in hell.

But now, I fear that his insanity may have been infectious. I feel my thoughts slipping. I'm afraid.