I Do What I Want (Drarry)

Forgiveness

            Over the many long years of his existence he has seen every single possible emotion known to man. He has seen joy, wonder, sorrow, despair, hate, anger and thousands more but none of them can compare to terror. Oh how he just adores terror. The single emotion in his victim's eyes is the only thing that keeps him going anymore.

            He couldn't wait to see the blonde weirdo's eyes fill with terror. He was nearly squirming at the thought. Finneus frowned when the girl's eyes became clear and focused. There was no terror or fright. There wasn't even a hint of discomfort. Just a dreamy gaze. He was beginning to grow frustrated. Just how odd was this girl? She really did have no self-preservation.

            Finneus watched as the girl looked around the room with interest. He himself looked around trying to see what could possibly keep her attention. He took in the multiple shackles along the wall, for days when he needs more than just one screaming victim. He took in his bed in the far corner, close enough that his victims can still see him but far enough that he can sleep through their screams. He took in his favorite part of the room, his collection. Every wall except for the one that hosts his prey is lined with shelves. Shelves filled with jars upon jars of perfectly preserved eyes. The solution they float in was one he made himself from trial and error. He has them all catalogued by color and then shade. No two eyes are the same.

            He remembers every single one of his victims. His mother thinks that type of skill is useless while his father is somewhat proud. When he was younger his attention span to spells and enchantments were dismal. He was the failure that his mother never wanted and the work in progress that his father sculpted. His memory was lacking in all things that mattered to them. But when it comes to his delectable victims he has a perfect recollection of every single moment they spent with him. He remembers every scream, every pant, every drop of blood, the pleading, the crying and every last breath that they took. Those eyes are his most treasured possessions. If he could take them with him wherever he goes he would. They are marvelous things that deserve to be broadcasted to the world. But unfortunately, society frowns on things like that. Artists are always misunderstood. Because yes, these eyes are a work of art. Their beauty is more gorgeous than any painting or photograph could ever hope to muster. In a way, they are his sculptures that have captured the best part of life.

            Underneath every jar is a plaque to keep their memory alive. It would be rude to just house their eyes and not give name to their sacrifice. So for every pair of eyes there is also a name and date associated with each set. There are times when all he can get out of them is a first name and that is okay. Other times he knows they have given a false name and that is alright too. The name doesn't matter in the end. After all he is just honoring them in the only way he knows how.

            There aren't enough shelves to house his collection. What his victims don't know is that there is a trap door under his bed that leads to his remaining treasures. The ones that they get to see are his favorite ones. The ones that shine the brightest. Really, they should be grateful for the privilege of witnessing such beauty.

            Finneus looked around and took in the dried blood on the walls that he had been meaning to clean up. It is so rude not to have the place clean for his guests. No one wants to see a messy house. And this was his house. Some people might be squeamish at the thought of combining his home with his work space but that is just the fun of it all. His mother thinks this is just his torture room, he never corrects her. She would be horrified to learn that he is living in such a small confining space considering their wealth. But money can't buy you happiness no matter how much his parents believe so. This... this place brings the happiness that galleons will never be able to fill.