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Description
Alexander's master was a cruel man. He would never bother meeting the boy unless he wanted to give him a smack, ridicule him. Alex's time was spent crawling on all fours, like a pet, kissing the feet of dirty men. Sometimes they let him stand up, only to be held by chains and whipped when he gave the 'bad look'. But he was a proper slave, unlike others, so he just grit his teeth and chanted in his head. "Don't forget... Don't forget..." He would whisper before falling asleep, like a little prayer, the boy's eyes stuck on a single dot on the wall.

Once he was of age, they made sure the newly accustomed brain wouldn't go to waste. "This is a knife." The master would jab his side with the pointy end, another scar on the abused skin. "You use it to cut filth like you... To teach that dirt stays on the ground." The blade would glide against his back and yet another scar was made. "Do as I say, and you might become something more." His master handed the blade to him, shackled hands trying to break free... But it was too soon. Alex took the bloodied blade, the reflection of blue eyes on its steel forever stuck in his head. And so Alexander tortured by the master's command, listening to the screams of people he handled with his blade, whispering and whispering under his breath. "... Don't forget..."

He had learnt to love the blade he was given, even naming it. Dahaka. His dark hope. Every night, he would look at it, and thousands of souls, crying in pain, would look back at him. Alex learnt to love them, too. "... Don't forget..." They would chant, the young man's lips mouthing the words he heard in his head. Every day, he would step closer to his master, every day the old fool wouldn't notice. He had believed that every slave he owned would stay filth under his feet. But Alex didn't forget. The last day, his blade met the master's neck. Alexander couldn't stop himself. It was only him and the master now. He heard some shouts, screams of panic and fear, but they would soon fade. However, when he was done, dissappointment shook him. The master had no soul... And so his blade would forever be undone.

Now, Alexander is not a slave. His blade was melted and made into a new weapon, in hopes of finding a new life. The name still stuck. And the eyes still followed... Every night he reads, because he's afraid of sleep. Every day he is alone, because the eyes are enough for him. He still hears the screams when he cuts their skin, but at least he's more than them. He's a master. And they're arrogant filth. He tries to forget, he does. Alex works day and night, hoping he would turn into someone else, one way or another, by blood or by kindness.

Alexander wishes he could forget...

... I'M SORRY. I WARNED YOU.

Alexander (c) Me

Description
Alexander's master was a cruel man. He would never bother meeting the boy unless he wanted to give him a smack, ridicule him. Alex's time was spent crawling on all fours, like a pet, kissing the feet of dirty men. Sometimes they let him stand up, only to be held by chains and whipped when he gave the 'bad look'. But he was a proper slave, unlike others, so he just grit his teeth and chanted in his head. "Don't forget... Don't forget..." He would whisper before falling asleep, like a little prayer, the boy's eyes stuck on a single dot on the wall.

Once he was of age, they made sure the newly accustomed brain wouldn't go to waste. "This is a knife." The master would jab his side with the pointy end, another scar on the abused skin. "You use it to cut filth like you... To teach that dirt stays on the ground." The blade would glide against his back and yet another scar was made. "Do as I say, and you might become something more." His master handed the blade to him, shackled hands trying to break free... But it was too soon. Alex took the bloodied blade, the reflection of blue eyes on its steel forever stuck in his head. And so Alexander tortured by the master's command, listening to the screams of people he handled with his blade, whispering and whispering under his breath. "... Don't forget..."

He had learnt to love the blade he was given, even naming it. Dahaka. His dark hope. Every night, he would look at it, and thousands of souls, crying in pain, would look back at him. Alex learnt to love them, too. "... Don't forget..." They would chant, the young man's lips mouthing the words he heard in his head. Every day, he would step closer to his master, every day the old fool wouldn't notice. He had believed that every slave he owned would stay filth under his feet. But Alex didn't forget. The last day, his blade met the master's neck. Alexander couldn't stop himself. It was only him and the master now. He heard some shouts, screams of panic and fear, but they would soon fade. However, when he was done, dissappointment shook him. The master had no soul... And so his blade would forever be undone.

Now, Alexander is not a slave. His blade was melted and made into a new weapon, in hopes of finding a new life. The name still stuck. And the eyes still followed... Every night he reads, because he's afraid of sleep. Every day he is alone, because the eyes are enough for him. He still hears the screams when he cuts their skin, but at least he's more than them. He's a master. And they're arrogant filth. He tries to forget, he does. Alex works day and night, hoping he would turn into someone else, one way or another, by blood or by kindness.

Alexander wishes he could forget...

... I'M SORRY. I WARNED YOU.

Alexander (c) Me