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[Wrath ~ manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury]

It's funny, how you can live with someone for so long, and not kill them.

His anger always made me mad, but I learned when I was just a boy that you do not fight with him. He might not look it, but he has a very loud and annoying voice.

His temper is worse than his voice though.

Don't get me wrong, he is a great singer, but when he yells, his voice changes.

It is almost like you can feel him channeling Evil, whenver he looses his temper and screams at you.

That happens a lot.

He keeps saying that he loves me, but this is a man who doesn't know the meaning of the word.

For him, anger is better than love.

Anger is something he feels he can control, or something that keeps him in control in any situation.

He spurns love, and has chosen anger as his way a long time ago.

He is my brother, or one of them.

He showed me a lot of things, and helped me when I needed it.

Not out of love though, not out of love.

Why he helped me, I have yet to understand.

But I do know that his help brought us where we are today, on the top.

There's only one way to go from there. He'll be down faster than the rest of us though.

Help.

I said that alot to him, wanting him to teach me about life.

He never could teach me what love was like though.

I didn't get it then, but I do now.

For how can he teach me about love, when he himself has abandoned it, and chosen the way of rage and anger.

There were so many things I wanted to learn, and so little he could teach me.

That annoyed the hell outta me though.

He annoyed the hell outta me.

Not just because he kept yelling at me, taking out his anger on me more than the others, for some reason I have yet to figure out.

No, it is not about that.

He annoyed me because he broke one of my sacred sins.

Anger.

It became him after a while, and in his last days he did nothing but yell.

Of course, he doesn't say a thing any more.

I wanted to teach him something, that last day in his life.

I came to his place, bringing food and something we could drink.

He passed out soon, from the drugs in the drink, and he woke up on his bed, tied to it, gagged, just so he wouldn't say a word in the beginning.

I wanted to make this last, and it did.

The whole night I spent, sitting on top of his naked body, peeling off his skin.

I started with his feet, his legs, his tighs. I moved my way up slowly, removing his skin.

The gag did all it was supposed to, it kept the screams inside him while I skinned him alive.

He bled too much, so I hooked up a transfusion so he wouldn't bleed to death before I was done.

That would have been bad you see.

When I was done, I looked at him, and first then did I remove the gag.

He looked at me, trying to speak, but he had already chewed on his tongue so much that it had swollen up.

He could not say a word.

He could not yell at me.

That was half the point.

I looked at him, and placed the knife over his right eye.

His face, the only place on his body that still had some skin left on it.

I smiled as I ran it down his right cheek, drawing blood, leaning down to lick it away.

The taste was metallic, different, strange.

Unlike anything you've ever tasted before.

I can see the fear in his eyes, but also the anger.

He hasn't learned yet, but I guess in the end, the big sinners never will.

I cut off both his eyelids, so he can't close his eyes.

The I run the knife into this lower torso, and leave it there.

I think I missed his vital organs, but he's still going to die.

If I'm lucky, it'll take a while though.

I get up from the bed, giving him one last smile, as he once again tries to speak.

No luck.

I walk out of the room without a backwards glance.

I guess my oldest brother finally learned his lesson.

 

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