Blood doesn't run thick

Blood, when I look at it, throws me into a daze, a world full of scarlet flowers, maybe red lilies.

I am not sure about which type of flowers are there, but I feel like I am surrounded by those flowers, lying in the midst, staring at the blue sky. I feel content; I feel full. I have been like this ever since I can remember.

"Young master, we should move."

I looked up to the man who said it, and it was Carter, the most loyal person I have ever met. He had been with me ever since I had been in this shithole. He used to work with my father, and after he died, he started working with me.

A fine old man, he was.

And the shithole I have referred to was the business we do. I own several wine warehouses in which they conduct different types of activities.

The wine business was just a cover, started by my father years ago. A perfect facade for the underworld shit of dealings that kept the city's heart beating in its own twisted way.

Right now, the dead man lying before me, he had been the top boss in this field and he was the one who killed my father. It took me several months to track him down, and today I dragged him to my warehouse to kill him slowly, to make him feel the pain I had gone through all these years.

My father, even though he wasn't a good human being, was a great man. He had given me everything, but by the time I had reached adulthood, he was killed by this bastard, lying at my feet, in a pool of blood.

I stare at my hands, covered in blood and knuckles bruised up pretty badly. But I wasn't feeling any pain. I had grown past this sensation, numb to all the pain.

Standing up slowly, I could see my suit had been stained with blood.

It wasn't mine.

The warehouse floor was cold and sticky beneath my shoes. And I was still staring at the pool of blood at my feet. It reminded me of wine spilling from a broken bottle—fitting considering our cover business.

"Young master," Carter's gravelly voice pulled me back to reality. I turn to look at him.

"The cleanup crew will be here in ten. We need to leave."

I nod at him, finally tearing my eyes away from the scene.

Sometimes, I tend to go overboard with my anger, and Carter was there to stop me all the time.

He always tells me to keep my anger under control.

There was a saying he would remind me of once in a while: Patience maketh the man.

But in this world, patience will only get you killed, I believe so.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as we made our way to the back exit, my footsteps leaving faint red prints that would soon be erased, along with all the evidence of tonight's necessary evil.

Carter was already in the car, waiting for me.

The drive home was quiet, as it always was after these things. Carter knew better than to speak, and I was lost in my own world of red lilies and justifications.

The city lights blurred past my window like fireflies.

I looked at the city, night lights illuminating the darkness. In such a large city, everyone had something to hide.

I could see the street leading to my home, a mansion in the city outskirts. It was my father's.

Even though he was dead, seeing this mansion and coming here, I felt like I was coming to meet my father.

"Will you need anything else, young master?" Carter stepped out in front of me.

"No, that's enough for tonight, old man. Go to your wife, Carter."

He nodded and turned to leave but paused. "Your father would be proud, young master. You handled it well tonight."

"I'm sure he is. Carter, I'm sure he is." I sigh, feeling the fatigue of the days finally catching up to me.

I waited until he got into the car and left.

I walked inside while Carter's words echoed in my head. Would Father really be proud? Or would be shocked to know that his son had become a psychopath who became so comfortable with the sight of blood?

I could see my mother, who was waiting for me. She stood in the wide hallway.

Mother, I don't know how to describe her. She had been missing in my life for almost a decade. She left me and my father when I was young. Well, it was my idiot father's fault. I had seen the bruises and heard the screams.

So, I never really blamed her. I was young, but I wasn't sad. My father used to call me emotionless; he said I lacked empathy too.

And he of all people called me that. Irony, eh?

She returned to me after my father died. Well, she was my mother, and seeing that she wanted to be in my life again sort of made me happy. So I welcomed her into my life. What can I say? I was a mama's boy when I was young and now too. The lonely boy inside me had missed her too much to do otherwise.

I believed family was important, no matter what.

Despite the state I was in, she smiled at me and said, "Go shower, darling."

"Dinner will be ready soon."

So caring, wouldn't you say?

The hot water washed away the night's sins but couldn't cleanse the memory of them.

When I came down, she had set the table beautifully, like she always did. The aroma of her cooking filled the air as I sat down; for a moment, I felt like a child again.

Even though there were maids, she insisted that she cook for me every day. And I can't deny her, because she cooks very well. So good that I would stuff myself.

She sat beside me, which she does always, watching me eat. Says that she feels happy watching me eat.

She had a gentle smile. A smile that would make any man fall at her feet. Even in her forties, she was beauty, a living art form.

She sat the whole time I was eating, asking me this and that.

When I finished, she spoke, "I'm so proud of you, son. You have worked really hard to save your father's business. I'm sure no one will challenge you from here on out. You've worked so hard to protect what's ours."

I frowned.

Mother never really mentions the work I do; she doesn't like it.

"So now, rest in peace, darling. Rot along with your father in hell."

The fuck!!

"MOM!? What the fuck are you talking about?" I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't cooperate.

"You're just like him," she whispered, and that's when I saw.

A man walked out of the shadows as soon as the light revealed his face. I lost my sense of reality.

"Uncle!!"

He walked to her and patted her back. Then he kissed her on the lips, right in front of me, and my world shattered.

"The Fuck is happening?!!"

My face felt hot, turning purple as I tried to move. I wanted to go and strangle that bastard and slit his face, pull his tongue out.

ARGGHH!!!

I tried to speak, but I could only groan as I was feeling hot all over my body. I was losing my sense of control over my body.

After trying so hard, I got up, but I couldn't stand up. I fell to the floor. My vision was turning hazy and purple, but I could still see them clearly.

That bastard turned to me and said, "You are still alive?"

"Just like your father, you are a lot stronger. Barbarians, you are."

My shithead of an uncle was smirking at me; it only boiled my blood. I wished, no, I desperately thought of getting up and beating the blood out of his face.

"I know you won't be killed this easily. So I used poison. Don't worry, it will kill your for sure."

I turned to my mother, the food. She was the one who mixed it; I knew.

I stared at her, deeply, "WHYY!!!" I managed to spit it out, my eyes fixed on her. She couldn't look at me.

"Because, she hates you," my uncle answered casually. "She only came back because I asked her to. After your father died, I thought his empire would be mine, but you came. So I had no choice but to call her. I made a plan to kill you."

Rage filled me, but my body wouldn't respond. The red lilies were back, but this time I was drowning in them; they were suffocating me. My vision was turning red and redder.

I kept my eyes on my mother until the very end. She looked at me; I could see the tears in her eyes. But who cares? I was dying already, I knew.

Maybe I realized too late that family doesn't fucking matter.

In my final moments, I understood that blood wasn't just red lilies—it was betrayal, flowing through the veins of my own fucking ingrateful family.