"I thought you had changed somehow. I was thinking that you grew some heart inside that empty shell of yours, and you finally see the beauty and wonders of being alive. But I guess I was wrong."
"..."
"Still the same apathetic, inhumane, cold-hearted boy you are."
"..."
"Jean would be very sad if she saw you like that."
Laughter. After several minutes of silence and his monologue, that was my first response to his bullshit.
It started low, and breathy, then grew louder, sharper, and filled with mockery. My throat burned from the scent of blood still lingering in the air, but I no longer care.
The maid's corpse lay on the floor, her blood splashed on the sofa's surface and tainted the carpet. No one spared her a second glance as if dead bodies lying on the ground were the norm inside that eerie mansion.
"Using a dead person's name won't work on me, old man."
I looked at my father's eyes with nothing by pure contempt.
