What I Think of You Pt. 04

What I think of you pt. 4

From the very beginning, she knew she was different, from the moment of conception, a seed of cruelty had been planted in her mind, a seed that would only grow with time.

Yoshiko was living a life that could nicely be described as "interesting" and less nicely described as an absolute dumpster fire from the beginning, and most likely unto the end.

Born to a mother unknown both to her and any government agency, and a father whose existence was only confirmed by the basic laws of reproduction.

Yoshiko grew up as an orphan, alone in the world, in the squalor of a communal orphanage, born unusually pale, with near snow-white skin, and features that could be considered sharp, even from a young age.

Any normal child would have harbored issues, due to the joys of growing up as a public ward. But Yoshiko was different, she was born with a seed of cruelty, cruelty bloomed freely and unrestrained in Yoshiko's mind, watered by isolation and jeers of her peers, beyond what should have been considered normal, this would be the first gift she would unknowingly receive from her father.

Eventually, she was adopted into a relatively normal family, and had a relatively normal childhood for a few years, until age 14, when the family fell upon hard economic times, her adopted parents grew cold and angry, and began to treat each other, and Yoshiko herself with increasing hostility, externalizing their growing sense of self-loathing and disappointment unto her. The seed that had been growing inside her blossomed, and she grew isolated as her few, already strained friendships broke under her own growing spite, she wasn't the sort to play nice, she was the sort to break others toys and laugh.

Eventually, her foster family would split up, and she'd be back as a public ward. She didn't really remember the time she had spent with them, but it left its scars.

It was the second family that would come to define her, this family was... if she had to put it simply, these people should never have been able to adopt a child, the household was a wreck, they adopted her out of a misplaced sense of obligation, nothing more, she didn't think either of them liked children.

Her newfound mother was proud, boisterous and domineering, with a clear spite for everyone around her, she treated Yoshiko like a burden she was forced to carry, and made this belief very well known, Yoshiko initially responded with her own spite and hostility, but the singe of pain she felt against her cheek every time she tried to talk back to this woman eventually taught her the merits of silence, the hatred and enforced silence would nurture her cruelty.

Her newfound father was a cruel and stupid coward, through and through. He was often silent around his wife; it would seem he feared her wrath much the same as Yoshiko did. She afforded him a begrudging respect for his survival instinct there, and his scheming minds tendency to look for any advantage he could gleam, unfortunately for many, this man would in many ways become her role-model.

Why these two shitbags married, she would never know.

But after some time passed and she got used to her new household, Yoshiko saw something that would come to define the rest of her life.

Her newfound "mother" was a lightweight as far as alcohol was concerned, she hardly ever drank, and Yoshiko had only ever seen her drink of her own accord twice.

But by the time Yoshiko was 18, and making preparations to move out, her father had made a discovery of sorts.

He would supply his wife with alcohol, sometimes knowingly, sometimes covertly, until she could barely think, and once she was out of it, he'd lay into her, fucking her wildly and brutally while he did so, his wails and grunts resounding through-out the house.

Initially this made Yoshiko incredibly uncomfortable. She'd hear her father's words of spite and hatred as he berated his wife and took out his frustrations, deserved or otherwise on her pickled brain, while screaming "take my dick you slut" or some other uncreative insult.

Initially, Yoshiko found this disturbing, but with time, it came to fascinate her, the mental image of her proud, larger-than-life mother, reduced to a wreck, incapable of speech more complicated than "I sorry." and "your dick feels good" was... intoxicating.

She found herself obsessed with the idea of watching this proud asshole reduced to a sobbing wreck, and she began to extend this degrading fascination to the other women in her life, she dreamt of the cartel of popular girls that mocked her being drunk out of their minds, taking dicks from some of the ugliest guys in school.

Yoshiko quickly found herself a fetish, obsessed with degradation and control, a pervert in every sense of the word, initially barely able to restrain herself, openly gawking at the women in her life, dreaming of them blank-faced and pliable. This in turn only made her weirder, and more isolated.

The internet only fed this obsession, soon, it grew beyond wanting to see them drunk and malleable, and fed into an extreme degradation obsession, she found herself exposed to other sources of control, some completely fictional, and others a bit more plausible, drugs, torture, hypnosis, training, all the twisted forms of control possible.

Then, at age 19 and just days before she moved out of her adoptive family's home into a small, substandard apartment, she found something interesting. For the first time, she was allowed to consume alcohol at home. Of course, she had alcohol outside of her home, but she had been deliberate in her effort to avoid getting drunk. Finally, she had the opportunity to experience the same blackout state as her mother had, and she wanted to know that sensation.

As the drink passed her lips, she felt a feeling of wooziness, of intoxication, and then... it receded, as if it were pulled away from her. She slammed down another, same result, another, another, another. Her mind felt clear, this couldn't possibly be normal, something had to be wrong.

Vodka, Whiskey, Beer, Moonshine... it all did nothing, no matter the source, no matter the quantity, it had no impact, her intoxication passed, ripped away from her by some unknown force, finally, at end of another fruitless drinking binge, she finally received answers.

A voice, tinged in cruelty resounded in her mind, like claws on a chalkboard, given sound and meaning:

"Child... Daughter... Unwanted... Trying to drown your sorrows? Or are you trying to find happiness in a bottle? kehehe..."

"What the fuck is this... are you... why are you in my head? Daughter? Is this what being drunk is?"

"DO NOT SPEAK, I DO NOT CARE TO LISTEN."

Yoshiko wanted to speak, but she felt primordial fear as she went to open her mouth, she felt the voice had control over her, she felt that the seed of cruelty within her mind had found its maker, this voice, deep down, she understood on an intrinsic level, it was her father, cruelty personified.

"You are my child, a child of me, the god of cruelty itself... you little humans have your little thoughts, those thoughts go somewhere, you think of cruelty, then that thought will eventually form an aspect of cruelty, have enough love, you get a lord of love, have a lot of cruelty, you get a god of cruelty, do you get the picture, do you understand, shitling? ONE WORD ANSWERS ONLY!"

"Yes..." Yoshiko timidly responded, her own cruelty suppressed by her fear.

"Like claws on a chalkboard... how and why you mortals listen to each other, will confound me till I finally shatter... well, now you know what I am, and less importantly, what you are."

"You are a shard of my magnificence rendered unto the mortal world when I deigned to copulate, be appreciative for your existence you pathetic cunt."

Yoshiko had never wanted to strangle a disembodied voice more.

"Well, time for me to call in a favor for my act of kindness, I'd ask one of my other children, but you seem the... debauched sort, so you'd be perfect for this, the fell god of lust died a few years back, ungrateful and stupid wretch, went against the nature of his being, engaged in a bout of chastity, shattered into a million piece... but useful for my purposes, he died in the mortal world." The voice sounded like it was on the cusp of bursting into laughter as it described this.

"...While the universe takes it's time creating a new one, the shards of the stiff have been embedding themselves in mortals, mostly, this leads to jack-shit."

"Recently, however, I've heard from a certain loathsome associate of mine with prophetic tendancies, that a human is going to have the right, let's say... mindset, to make the shards of the dead fucker function, there's potential for cruelty here, and that's where you come in..."

"Eight years, sometime in the next eight years, the shard-infested human will awaken as master of their shard. This should occur somewhere in the house of higher learning near you, find the human, and you'll have access to the power to warp reality itself, to make your warped dreams a reality, make them all as debauched as you crave."

"Aren't I a good parent, enabling my spawn to fulfill their desires? kehehehehe..."

The voice dripped with insincerity, ulterior motives, sadism. Yoshiko didn't trust it, but she was equal parts interested and afraid, the power to change reality, to bring everyone, everything down to the level of her fuck-pet... it was interesting, enough for her to swallow her hate, and press for details.

"How would I know who has the shard?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Your voice grates, every one of your kind... ahem. You'll know them when you see them, you will see a shade, a visage of a dead god accompanying them, it's the god of lust, so surely, you'll just need to hone in on the horniest members in that house of feckless knowledge... now, to ensure I'll never need to speak with you, ever again, I'll do both you and me a kindness, and explain your current state of... sobriety."

"You are my daughter, cruelty given form intermingled with wretched human flesh, cruelty is intent, the desire to harm, inflict pain and suffering. Alcohol, inebriation, altered states of mind... they distract from cruelty, so this is your birthright, a clear head, whatever you do, you will have done willingly, knowingly. I don't care what you think of this gift, you are mine, and if you don't wish to harm others, that's fine, really... there is cruelty onto oneself in restraint." The voice cackled, and with a final note, added.

"I can only hope that we will never speak again; do with the information I have provided as you wish."

Then the voice was gone, Yoshiko was left staring blankly into space, clutching an empty bottle of wine, her preconceptions of reality shattered... was that voice just a symptom of her drinking, was she drunk? No... no... she felt in deep inside her, she'd always felt it, cruelty, she hated that voice with all her might, but it spoke truth, she knew it, and it had provided an opportunity, to enact her wildest fantasies on a scale it assured was unimaginable, there was a catch, but as she looked at the broken home she was about to leave, what had she to lose?

The next day, she'd investigate entering her local university, she was never a bright student, but maybe she could do an art degree...

One year later

Yoshiko was bored, she had always been bored constantly in the years prior, but this was especially bad, her art degree was dull, easy, but dull, she had no real passion for artistry, at least not the sort that involved a canvas.

She was a professional troublemaker, she'd try and insert herself into other people's lives, and do as much as possible before they found a way to get rid of her.

She'd find happy couples and try and guide one or both towards adultery, or at the very least split them up, and then laugh at their misery.

She'd find close friends, date one of them, and try and push them apart, then once they were irreparably separated, she'd break up with her partner, leaving them both alone, and worse off for having known her. She was a professional asshole at this point in her life, her own enforced sobriety left her bored, with few if any outlets.

She found this all to be entertaining, and in turn, her peers found her to be a nuisance at best, or an outright harbinger of misery at worst.

Soon, she found herself alone, and aggressively ostracized by all but the nicest of people, this did nothing to abate Yoshiko's sadism and ego, and only fed into her cruel fetish of degradation, she would see them all pay for this, as soon as she found the shard-holder.

Then, one day, she met someone who'd give her a more permanent friend-group.

"Yo, names Olivia, I saw your piece on display, it's good, where'd you get the inspiration, what did you do to get that result, who was your inspiration?" Olivia had approached her, her smile bright as the sun.

Yoshiko was... confused, to say the least, she had known of Olivia before this interaction, she was someone who was doing an art degree out of a deep passion for her craft, she was obsessed with improving her artwork, and had peppered the university with endless renditions of the same fucking tree painting. Why would anyone spend so much time trying to paint one fucking tree "perfectly?" As far as Yoshiko was concerned, the sane way to go about it was to just do your best, then move on, it's a tree, even perfectly painted, it'd still be a fucking tree. if you looked at a picture of a tree, and had any thoughts deeper than "Yup, that sure is a tree alright." Then you were even more fucked in the head than she was, needless to say, Yoshiko was something of utilitarian when it came to art, and not a nature lover by even the most generous stretch of the imagination.

"I have a piece on display? You learn something new every day. What do you want? Olivia, was it? Yoshiko retorted dryly, and somewhat honestly, she was only 70% sure Olivia was her name.

"Yeah, you got an amazing piece out there, it's so good, so where did you get the inspiration?"

"Well, somebody told me I had to do a painting for my degree, so that gave me the idea to make a painting, which I would submit, y'know, for the degree." Yoshiko's answer was a polite wording of "fuck off."

Olivia was not the sort to take subtle hints however, or unsubtle ones for that matter.

"I love the painting your working on! It's unique!"

Yoshiko's painting was unique, she was attempting to showcase a teacher she had taken issue with being fucked in every hole at once, once the painting was complete, it would be judged for the clear threat and pornographic insult it clearly was, and she'd find herself on academic probation for a month, but in its incomplete state, it looked like abstract body art.

"Okay... thank you, I suppose, I don't think you'll like it so much when it's finished."

"Art is art, no matter what it is, you should express your soul, make the world your canvas!" Olivia would come to retract this statement after she saw the finished artwork.

"I'm trying, believe me." Yoshiko preferred form of artistry was degradation and humiliation, and she was working up ways to bring this "art" to reality, as soon as she could find an isolated test target and had been shopping around for co-habitation agreements that would suit her interests.

"I want to pick your mind, we're both artists, I want you to join a study circle I've got going on, you be interested?"

Yoshiko was interested, not out of any desire to make friends, but the girl seemed sweet, and who knows, maybe there would be a good opportunity to entertain herself, this girl seemed bubbly, and who knows what she could twist that into with time?

"I'll join, but I don't think I'll stay long term." Yoshiko said this in-part because these things never worked out, and in part because she wanted her after class time to monitor her classmates, it wasn't good to be tied down, she needed to look around, to try and find the idiot with the shard, she'd hoped to find it before the end of the year, and then, she could make her wildest dreams true.

Present day, years later

Yoshiko was still in Olivia's circle, she'd duck out for weeks at a time, for her own personal reasons, but she always found herself coming back. She'd never admit it, either to Olivia, or herself, but she liked a few of the people in the study group, specifically, she liked Olivia and Alice.

Olivia was still the same bubbly weirdo she'd met years back, not for want of trying by Yoshiko, and in the time since she'd homed in on Yoshiko as the only other member of the group taking art for their degree, she'd talk to her about artistry whenever she'd get the chance. She'd texted Yoshiko late at night, asking for her opinions on artistic ideas, and whatever strange concepts had entered her head that day, Yoshiko's answers could usually be summarized as "I don't know" or "why are you asking me?"

No matter how dismissive Yoshiko was towards Olivia's questions, Olivia would usually eventually nag an answer out of her, and Yoshiko could tell Olivia respected her artistic insights, that respect was returned, even if Yoshiko didn't want to admit it.

Alice on the other hand, was liked by Yoshiko for entirely different reasons, she was something of a vindictive recluse, she was quiet, and was easily annoyed by others, almost entirely self-centered. Yoshiko could relate to that, and she felt a kindred spirit, one asshole to another.

Rachel on other hand... Yoshiko hated her, not for any good reason mind you. She hated Rachel for her wealth, for her looks, for her apparent well-adjusted happy personality. Her hatred towards Rachel was strong enough that she went to the trouble of suppressing it, trying to play the friend, trying to manipulate Rachel.

She'd tried to make her make bad investments, tried to push her away from her obvious crush, tried to isolate her, and had spread rumors, all to somewhat ill-effect, her influence was far beyond what Yoshiko could hope to touch.

Rachel, to Yoshiko's eyes had always appeared rather unflappable, until today that is.

Earlier, Yoshiko had woken up bored, she'd had no real intent of coming to the study circle, she'd prepared herself for another boring day of observation, another day of looking for the horny idiot with the power of lust, and she'd been increasingly doubting whether it was even real, was the voice just fucking her around? He'd said it would be at some point in an eight-year period. It had now been five years, statistically, she should have found them by now. Was she just fucked in the head, was none of it real, she preferred not to question her own sanity when she could help it, it was far too easy for her to examine her own actions and conclude madness.

However, those doubts soon left her mind, as she opened social media for the first time in ages, she found an answer, she found a picture of Rachel, dressed more provocatively than she'd dared dream. That wasn't an outfit, it was what you got if you fed an outfit through a threshing machine.

She knew she had to go to the circle, to figure out what had brought on this miraculous change. It was there when the second miracle of her day had occurred.

Yoshiko had never thought much of Alex, she'd forgotten he'd even existed for the most part, she thought him boring, unassertive, the kind of guy who dreamed of missionary sex with the lights off, who'd one day marry his third choice of wife, and live out a dull life, where he'd have strong alternating opinions on whether the living room should be painted beige or not.

She hated to be wrong generally, but in this instance, she would suck it up, for next to him, invisible to his eyes, stood a shade, an undead visage of a playboy looking man with dead eyes, he was the one she had been searching for.