The Spawn of Lucifer

25

My mother used to say that you won't find the solution to your problems at the bottom of a bottle of Scotch. Well, that was before she lost her mind, became a psychotic maniac and eventually killed herself.

But those words were meant for my father.

The man was an addict—he blamed his terrible actions on the alcohol and would sometimes storm into my room and beat me up with anything lying around—whether it be a lamp, a belt, anything.

But enough of that now.

That is not the main point exactly.

I haven't thought about my parents in ages and there was no point in doing so because they were idiots.

On rare occasions, these thoughts wander into my mind anytime I think about Aanya—my long lost sister. How ironic to think that I have a living relation and I'm quite displeased at her dissapearance. I shouldn't care....but I do.

Since the tragic deaths of my parents, all human emotions departed from me and I was left with nothing but a distinct kind of rage that could never be quenched.

I wasn't mad or sad that they died, I was furious that I didn't get to kill them myself. My childhood was filled with nothing but endless pain and misery. I went through absolute hell. I guess that's why I turned out the way I did and amongst all, a terrible father. Not that I have the chance to dwell on it.

Aanya was sold to Salvatore Moretti by both my parents. She was just 15years old. At that time, I was 19 and couldn't do anything to stop it no matter how hard I tried. My father also arranged for me to get married to Hana. Her parents were billionaires and since Hana took interest in me—a nobody, whose father was an addict and barely earned a reasonable amount of income for his family—my father saw it as a golden opportunity to extort money from them.

Despite my broken spirit, I never gave up. I built the world's most feared empire just from scratch and with my feeble hands. It wasn't easy but I persevered with the hope that I was going to free Aanya from his clutches.

The day I walked in on Salvatore defiling my little sister years ago before she could be taken away from our home, I went blind with rage and almost murdered him with my bare hands.

The only thing that stopped me that very day was the fear I saw in my sister's eyes when I acted out like a horrible monster—that is the very reason I don't condone sexual assault towards women. I go insane with rage when incidents like that comes to my attention. The punishment for it is—well, death. A slow, painful and agonizing death.

There's still a shred of guilt hidden beneath all the darkness inside of me for what I did to that girl years ago. And I'm going to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.

It's been years now and I still don't know the whereabouts of my sister. Regardless of the resources and connections I have to find her, she hasn't been found. There are no traces of her. Anytime we get a new lead, it just turns out to be a dead end.