Today I decided not to wear my uniform. It just didn't feel right, not with what I had planned. Instead, I slid the cuff links gifted by my father on one of my birthdays, into the sleeves of my crisp white shirt before pulling on my black suit.
I gave myself a last check in the mirror. My blond hair, usually a mess from whatever the fuck I was doing during the day, was now slicked back, sharp. I leaned closer, checking my eyes, making sure the red stayed red. Not a shade darker. And definitely not tonight.
I never understood how my father did it. How he had locked his emotions tight enough that no one could ever read him. Sometimes for days and weeks on end without losing it. But then, he had decades, maybe centuries, to learn before me. I haven't. And controlling my emotions has never been my strong suit.
But if I'm going to step into power, I know I need not just to learn it, but to master it. For Rosie. For our son.
