He sat on the dining table, alone, having his grand dinner with his past memories and emptiness. He was reminiscing about how his family sat on the very table he was sitting on. He sat on the head chair where once his father sat. He gazed on the seat left of it and paid a thought to how his mother almost everyday scolded his sibling and how, like always, he used to adore them in silence.  Phantoms of his sister's laughs or his brother's small whines echoed around him. He sat right next to his father, with his siblings next to him.

         He was quiet and resilient but his past haunted him. It only reminded him that they did not deserve it and that he is yet to avenge his family. His parents and siblings, along with all those who died, will not have their lives in vain. The more he thought, the more he got angry.

       A sudden sound jolted everyone in the room, raising shivers through the cores of the noble men. While the maid rushed to see what happened, he was taking deep breaths trying to calm himself. Anger was useless, but at the moment he only had agony and resentment left in his body, not just in his restless heart. He was tired but he kept going. He was in solitude but he had an army. He could feel anything and everything but anger was all that was left behind. He was so close to his goal yet it felt far away. It wasn't something that he wanted, he needed it. He wanted his parents and younger siblings to rest in peace. That's what he thought.

        But what he didn't know was that the dead didn't care. It was him who did. It wasn't their death that was driving him crazy, it was about being left alone, where there is nobody to talk to. Share his day with or to love. He was against the last and the latter. He's the one who wanted revenge while his parents said nothing to him. It was his nightmare, that seems to be going on forever end ever. He couldn't end it. And he knew it.

                 His void mind explodes, affecting nothing but him.

      Red dotted his vision. Another platter of food on the floor, clanking on the floor. The head of the maids, lady Edith, ran to him and attempted to calm him down. He stood up and said nothing before leaving for his room. The rattling of the plate still influenced her ear drums.

     Opening the door of his room he entered, his first gaze ended up on the large picture. Everything directed the devil to take his vengeance in such ways that his enemies didn't think of it in their wildest dreams.

     His room was messy. His cloaks and clothes here and there. His everything is messed up like his personal life.

     A knock disturbing his train of thoughts. "Xavier, my child..." Edith only muttered but he heard. The oldest maid of the castle. Close friend of his mother. Caretaker of his walls. And a pretend mother.

     "Open the door, please my child." she pleaded. He wasn't her child, he never was. 'At least she cares.' a voice spoke to him in his head, giving him some specks of comfort. '..because of her job..' another voice laced with evil means, shattering the hope before it could even reach him.

      He didn't answer her. But a crashing sound did. Followed by more. He was desperate rather than angry. Breaking things was one way to be occupied rather than hear his heart crack little by little. "Xavier... Please open the door..." now worried Edith was pounding on the door. "Men!! Break the door at once." her eyes twinkled with tears.

       Once the door broke open and her eyes first laid on his bloodied and injured hands. The men had gone to their respective posts, minding their own business. 

         An audible gasp was heard. "Xavier...a small pause... what on earth do you think you are doing!?" She tried to grab his injured hand. "It's Blacknight for you." he spoke. The temperature dropped a few Celsius. Silence was too loud. And her heart also fractured. "Yes, blacknight...this time a pregnant pause... let me apply the ointment on this." a shrieking laugh breaking her eardrums left his mouth. She was getting terrified. "Leave," he uttered once he stopped laughing. "But.." "NOW" this was the first time for her that he raised his vocals at her and it was the first time someone made him say his demand twice. 

        He slept with the same ugly odor of his own blood and a pool of regretful, suffocating air. The night was filled with terrors in his dream. deep breaths and turns on his bed weren't helping. He truly regretted what he had said to Edith.
                                                           

                                            ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

.Ugliness is not the outside, it is rather the inside.

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