I want to become a killer

The days blurred together after the initial rise to power, like a canvas soaked in too many colors, too many ideas, fighting to find their place. The city was changing, but so was I. The weight of the revolution had shifted into something even heavier—responsibility. People were looking to me not just as a figurehead of their freedom but as the architect of their future. I had wanted power, and now I had it. But with it came something I hadn't expected: the pressure to deliver.

Mara and I spent countless hours in meetings, surrounded by advisors and revolutionaries, all of them eager to see the new world take shape. They looked at me with reverence, but I saw their eyes—some filled with excitement, others with doubt. Not everyone was ready for what I was offering. Power without purpose, freedom without direction, was a dangerous thing. And I knew that better than anyone.

It wasn't just the people who expected change. I had a hunger inside me—a desire to not just lead but to control, to shape the very fabric of the world around me. I had destroyed the old system, but now I had to build something new. And I wasn't sure what that would look like.

Mara was always there, a steady force, watching me with the same calculating eyes that had helped guide the revolution. She was no longer just an ally. She was a partner in this—perhaps the only one who truly understood what it was like to be consumed by this ambition. But even she had her own vision, one that didn't always align with mine. And that scared me.

I had begun to notice the cracks forming between us, subtle at first, like tiny fractures in the foundation of a building that hadn't yet fully settled. She pushed me to solidify my control, to tighten my grip on the people's loyalty. She was smart, and she knew that power was only as strong as the structures you built to support it. But was that really the future I wanted?

One evening, after another long day of meetings, I found myself alone in my office, staring out over the city. The streets, once filled with fire and chaos, were now quieter. The fighting had stopped, but the tension remained, thick in the air like smoke from a fire that wouldn't go out. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had lost something—something essential. The revolution had given me everything I thought I wanted, but now it felt like I was on the edge of losing control.

I turned away from the window and sat down at my desk, the cool weight of the notebook in front of me, the same one I had used to take notes on serial killers so many years ago. The notes had changed over time, evolving from simple observations into detailed plans for how I would remake the world. How I would reshape the people into something more than just followers—how I would make them realize the importance of structure, of discipline.

But as I picked up the pen and prepared to write, I stopped.

Mara had been right in one sense: purpose was what the people needed. But purpose without empathy, without understanding, was just another form of oppression. I had fought for freedom, for choice, but had I become the very thing I sought to destroy? Was I just another ruler, another tyrant in the making?

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the notebook in my hands, unsure of what to write, unsure of who I had become. The power was still mine. But it felt empty. There was no clear path forward. No answers.

I felt a knock on the door, soft but deliberate. "Come in," I called out, not bothering to turn around.

The door creaked open, and I heard the familiar footsteps. Mara entered the room, her presence filling the space in a way that seemed both comforting and suffocating. She paused for a moment before speaking.

"You're brooding again," she said, her voice light, though there was a steel edge to it that I had come to recognize.

"I'm thinking," I replied, my voice distant.

"You've been thinking for days," she shot back, crossing the room to stand beside my desk. "You can't keep staring into the void, Psycho. We have work to do."

I looked at her, frustration rising inside me. "Work? You think I don't know that? We're building something. But I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's the right thing. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing."

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering my words carefully. "That's because you're afraid of what comes next. You've destroyed everything, but now you don't know how to rebuild."

I stood up suddenly, the words coming faster now, the storm in my chest breaking free. "I didn't just destroy things for the sake of destruction, Mara. I wanted to create something better. But I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I'm the right person to do it."

She studied me for a moment, and I could see the glint of something in her eyes, something almost triumphant. "You're afraid that if you try to build, you'll lose control. That the people won't follow you the way they did in the revolution. You're afraid that the structure you create will be just as fragile as the one we tore down."

Her words hit too close to the truth. My heart raced, my mind spinning. Was that what it was? Had I built this world on the back of destruction, without ever considering what it would take to create something sustainable? Was it possible to make something lasting, something real?

I stared at Mara, my throat tight. She was right. I was afraid.

"Then what do I do?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

She didn't hesitate. "You lead. You stop doubting yourself, and you start creating. You can't control everything, but you can control some things. And that's enough."

I wanted to argue, to push back against her certainty. But I couldn't. She was right. I couldn't let fear control me. I had to move forward, even if the future was unclear. There was no turning back now.

I stood up straighter, feeling a new resolve settling within me. "Fine," I said, my voice steady again. "Then let's get to work."

Mara smiled, and for the first time in days, I felt the weight of my decision lift, even if only a little. The revolution had given us this world. Now it was up to us to decide what we would do with it. The future was ours to shape. And I would shape it.

We walked out of the room together, side by side, ready to begin again.

________________________

Jabrane

pa treon /Jabrane

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