It was late into the night as Richtofen hunched over the desk littered with papers. His brain buzzed with formulas and hypotheses but sleep was beginning to creep up. He stood up and went to the open window for some air. The crisp night air eased his fatigue as he loosened his tie and undid the collar button of his shirt. His eyes were bleary from reading but he could make out a shadowy figure and the light of a cigarette.
He squinted to focus his eyes before realising it was her. He tried to continue thinking about his work but their previous conversation gnawed at the back of his mind. What kind of female was this? He had not been near a psychologist since he relented to his mother's insistence as a child - which caused her to cease the beatings at least. Up until that point, he had spent his childhood being beaten and berated whenever his mother - or 'Mutti' as he called her - suspected him of something she deemed 'dirty'.
It began with small things like getting his shorts muddy or not singing loudly enough during mass - the usual things children would be guilty of. However, as he got older, she quickly began to blame him for almost everything that went wrong. Coupled with this, his older sister used him as a scapegoat whenever she did something wrong and wanted to evade the blame. And this only served to reinforce Mutti's conclusions.
Richtofen knew deep down she was stressed with the responsibility of raising two children alone. He never knew his father yet he used to wonder how someone as brilliant as himself was languishing in poverty with two people who had nothing in common with him. In his mind, he began imagining his father was a brilliant scientist who lived in one of the surrounding Manors of the Bavarian countryside where they lived.
Perhaps a Baron or a Count had impregnated Mutti and it was her fault she did not disclose this to his father. Maybe he was completely unaware he had a brilliant son who was just waiting to meet with him. Mutti had worked odd jobs at various Manors as a servant; she was by no means good-looking but seemed to look appealing enough to allow an affair to take place.
He had also suspected his sister, Anna, did not share the same father as him. She was dim and simple minded; though, she made sure Richtofen knew how she felt about him. She would call him weird, belittle his projects and make sure to distance herself from him in public.
"Vhy do I have to have a brozher who's a freak like jou!?" She would yell in frustration as she compared her life to her peers.
Their brothers were always helpful and supportive whereas Richtofen refused to even be part of the family. He would be absent for hours as he undertook his 'projects'; which consisted of making dens and reading academic books he had stolen during their trips to town. It was not like they could afford them anyway - how else was he going to learn and study?
Anna was always the one having to support Mutti and prepared for work as a seamstress by the age of eight. She began to help her mother whenever she had batches of sewing to do but quickly took on her own work. The money was pitiful and they barely scraped by to eat. Any money Richtofen procured on his own was stashed away whilst he plotted his escape from the peasantry. But unlike Richtofen, Anna never protested nor questioned their meager existence.
Their loathing for each other grew deeper throughout the years. Richtofen would note how much his sister took solace in her dolls; she would brush their hair, make them beautiful clothes with her newfound skills and left-over fabric. This was how she spent her time between jobs. He would look up from his current read and watch her engage in such simple infantile behaviour.
One such day, Mutti stormed up the stairs to accuse Richtofen of something as usual. This time, Mutti's dress had been smeared with makeup and her dresser subsequently raided. She had collected a small amount of cosmetics which she prided in being able to have. Her one red lipstick would be kept for special occasions like Christmas. The two powders she owned were used sparingly and often watered down with flour to make them last longer.
Yet, prior to this accusation, he had seen Anna sneak into Mutti's room as she paraded about wearing her mother's makeup and dress. When she had slipped off Mutti's dress - the one she claimed she got married in - she had smeared red lipstick along the neckline. This was a dress that always kept entombed in a garment bag like a buried time capsule from when things were not so bleak.
So when Mutti came in to accuse him - he was completely flabbergasted. And despite him telling her what he saw his sister do; she saw no fault in Anna. It had to be Edward's fault. And, as usual, Anna would declare him a liar to Mutti.
In his logical mind, it made so much more sense that the only other female in the house would engage in such a typically feminine behaviour. Yet, Mutti would rather have accused him of cross dressing. It was always his fault after all - he was a filthy little deviant.
So she grabbed him by the wrist after berating and calling him a pervert and took him down to the kitchen. She glared at him, her eyes filled with hate and loathing, before she lit the stove. The flames danced to attention before being amplified.
"Jou are a disgusting little boy, vhat did I ever do to God to create such a devil? Vhy couldn't jou just be like jour sister? Jou are the reason jour father left us", she spat as her mouth twisted and contorted with every word.
Richtofen was still as he stood by the window looking out at Kiana before he closed his eyes. He began to feel tears welling up like the day it happened.
She pulled down his trousers and lifted him up onto the stove. The ensuing pain and agony caused him to cry and beg whilst his sister smirked as she watched from afar in the hallway.
That day changed a lot of things. It was the first time he had ever heard Mutti mention his father and it was to blame him for the man's absence in their life. That day was like a dagger to the heart. So, he decided that if he was to be punished for things he did not do then he may as well do them. Richtofen began to take time away from his books to cause all kinds of havoc.
It first started with his sister as he revelled in her anguish whilst he crushed the heads of her beloved dolls and tore them apart. But the thrill wore off and he swiftly escalated to setting fires, mutilating small animals and engaging in deviant behaviour. He would dabble in voyeurism as he would watch the girls in the village as they bathed. This then deteriorated to breaking into their bedrooms at night to watch them sleep. If they were not going to approach him then he was going to approach them - whether they wanted it or not. And, in their sleeping state, they could not speak back to insult him.
Thus, Richtofen began to shrug off the restraints of morality and human decency as he continued to push the boundaries - always striving for a more depraved act than the last. He felt like he was getting back at Mutti, who would still continue to beat him. She would still continue to call him a deviant but now she was really getting one. So by the time he saw a psychologist, he had already crafted an extensive repertoire of crimes committed as a minor. Crimes which had started out as an act of rebellion quickly became engrained behaviour.
And it was something he now partook in for pleasure.
End of part thirteen...