The sunrise teased me from slumber that morning. From my humble cave, I saw the sun peek out from behind the horizon, illuminating a new day for the animal kingdom with its elegant wisps of red, pink, and gold.

It was so beautiful that I  wanted to vomit.

I immediately remembered the special occasion in store for the day: Mufasa’s newborn son, Simba, was to be presented to the kingdom. As the uncle of the new heir, I knew that it was expected of me to attend. I didn’t mind. I knew it was my responsibility to be as present in the life of the cub as possible—I intended to make Simba a better soul than his detestable father.

Before I could even move from my sleeping position, I was abruptly overcome by a vicious cough. I couldn’t admit it to myself but I had recently fallen ill. I sorely wish to go to the ceremony, and I knew Mufasa would come and reprimand me if I failed to attend, but I was too unwell to leave my cave. I didn’t want to spread my sickness to young, weak Simba or worsen my own condition.

I sighed to myself, realizing that most of my fellow creatures would probably be relieved when they noticed my absence. Admittedly, I was a strange, sly creature with a bit of an attitude problem, but don’t be fooled. Mufasa had always spread outlandish rumors about me and perpetuated my dreaded nickname: Scar. My birth name was Gabriel, but to my dismay, no one would call me that.

Mufasa had given me my “namesake” when we were just children. Our father had taken us on a walk, instructing us in the ways of the kingdom. He tested our knowledge, and I answered every question correctly before my brother could. Mufasa grew increasingly more frustrated as he earned reproachful looks from our father and gloating grins from myself. Eventually, my brother became so filled with animosity that he swiped at my smug face, obviously with more malicious than playful intent. He only meant to bat at my nose but instead accidentally extended his claws and marked my eye. Though my brother felt guilty, his rash and jealous nature had cost me some of my vision.

Though I was clearly the better candidate to rule the kingdom, Mufasa was still the eldest and inherited the land. He needlessly banned the hyenas from Pride Rock. The poor creatures were starving. I was unlike my brother—I was a believer in the common good and would not let their kind suffer needlessly.

I tried to reason with Mufasa and help him see sense. To feed every animal, there was only one solution. We had to seek a new home, since Pride Rock could not sustain us all. Mufasa would not hear of such a thing, since he was far too sentimental and somehow unempathetic enough to let the hyenas die of hunger.

I had made up my mind. I was going to kill my brother at the nearest opportunity and take the throne myself. Though I despised Mufasa for his ineptitude and negligence as king and the cruel manner in which he had always treated me, I didn’t want to end his life. However, I was willing to commit such a deed so that none in the kingdom may starve.

I rested in my cave but quickly grew hungry. My cave was fairly sparse in terms of food options, for whenever I came across much I usually gave it to the hyenas. Eventually, to my delight, I caught a mouse.

Suddenly Mufasa’s insufferable bird rudely interrupted me, scaring away my prey. So I toyed with the annoying little creature, even putting him in my mouth as if I were planning to eat him. Perhaps that was wrong of me, but he had chased off my only hope of food for the day. I knew I had to keep my anger in check when Mufasa arrived. I was resigned not to stoop to his level and injure him, as much as he deserved it. It was sin enough to take his life, even though he was an awful ruler; wounding him beforehand would be cruel.

However, when Mufasa entered my cave, I couldn’t help but greet him mockingly. When I looked at him, the image of hundreds of starving hyenas leapt to my mind, and it was difficult to treat him with respect.

“Sarabi and I didn’t see you at the presentation of Simba,” Mufasa said with no preamble. I was offended that he didn’t even preface with a “hello.” I was his family, after all, and I had never wronged him. However, I should have learned not to expect decent manners from my brother.

“That was today? Oh, I feel simply awful,” I said, raising my claws and dragging them against the walls of my cave, producing a horrendous noise. I felt guilty as soon as I did it. It was a dirty, low move, but I had few pleasures left in life, and at least I wasn’t causing him any physical harm.

Eventually I stalked off, unable to tolerate my idiotic brother any longer. I still didn’t want to kill him, but every time I spoke to him the task seemed a little less daunting.

I wondered how he was so well loved. He was obviously not a benevolent king, presenting his son to remind the kingdom of the fact his dynasty will never end, forcing all to bow before him without question, maintaining his regime through fear tactics (who would dare disrespect a lion with a roar like his?), never asking the opinions of his subjects, and allowing hundreds of hyenas to starve.

It didn’t matter if I was remembered in a negative light and my name became a curse. I was going to do the right thing, and that was all that mattered.