I walk into the room; it looks dark from my angle. All I can see are robes from the waist down. I look up, they all ignore my presence. I stand on the toes of my shoes to reach the table. Wine glasses rest upon it, the liquid red and bubbling. I look around but no one is paying any attention to me. I slid the glass towards me wrapping both hands around the sleek bottom. Lifting it to my lips I let the liquid pour in my mouth, down my throat. It burns but I like it. The taste remains bitter on my tongue. I watch the room as the drift around me lost in conversations. My father walks in and they quiet to whispers. I watch him in awe. He is raw power. Everything I want to be. The group follows him into an adjoining room and I follow as well. Still no one paying me any mind. I want to see it happen. See what my future holds for me. A man sits in the chair, fear evident on his features. He is pitiful, weak. I�ve heard of him before.

I put my glass on the floor and crawl closer to get a better view. My father stands behind the man, praises him for his work, his betrayal to those he loved. I wonder why my mother isn�t here. I never see her at these gatherings. I wonder if she is aware what goes on. I know it all, I have seen it all. This is my future. I will get to be like my father, strong and powerful. People will follow me, do what I tell them.

My father takes the man by the neck cutting his air supply. This is one of the tests. If the man passes there will be more to come. But I know he won�t, he�s too weak. He struggles clawing at my father�s hands. He didn�t trust my father and now he would die. His face turns red, his body fighting and soon he lies limp on the floor. My father is disgusted with him I can tell. He shouldn�t have fought, he would have survived.

�Pathetic� I mummer not sure what it means but aware it fits.

My father calls out to me. The first person to acknowledge me, even with me hidden from his view. I walk calmly to him shocking people as I do so. They hadn�t known I was there. Didn�t see me watching. Now they were pitying me and I could tell. I hated the way they looked at me so I set my eyes on what was ahead of me, my father.

He lifts me placing me on the chair and I hear as well as see the surprise pass through the faces of the crowd. My father mentions something about loyalty and places his hand around my neck. I don�t flinch like the man on the floor, I�m not afraid. But the group is, I can see it in their eyes. Someone points out that I�m just a child. My father quiets them. He knows I�m not afraid he�s aware of my strength.

He squeezes and I feel my lungs screaming for the breath my body needs. But I sit perfectly still. I trust him. He knows when to let go. My vision begins to blur, my face flushing, my lungs burning, but I calmly wait. My body doesn�t fight me; I know how to control it. I don�t fight him there is no need to. Some one shuts for him to stop but he only tightens his grip ordering them not to defy him. I can no longer see them. They have merged into a single blur. Them and the room, one being in my mind. All I see is black, red and green, then the stars. Those small bursts of lights that take over your vision. Then I feel my fathers grip loosening and I feel my chest heave out as it grasps any air it can dragging it violently into my lungs. My father pets my head.

�It would do you all well to show your loyalty as he has.�

He pulls me off the chair to stand at his side and I wrap an arm around the back of his leg to support myself. He strokes my head. �That�s my pet.�

I smile up at him; stars still clouding my vision, then look about the crowd. I�m stronger then them. One day I will rule like my father. With the raw power like the feeling in my lungs. This is what my future holds.