Deadly Obsession - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Charlie.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. My mother really went and kidnapped someone’s child. I glare at him as he sits in the corner of the living room, his knees drawn to his chest. I don’t like him. As a matter of fact, I want to kill him.

I think I will. When my parent’s are both fighting with each other, I’ll take my knife and gouge his throat out.

He’s shaking like a leaf and he’s only been here a week. Fucking pussy. He doesn’t know pain. I know pain. I know it all too well. I’ve had to train myself to enjoy it.

Physically, Charlie is scrawny. His hair is light brown and a mass of wild, short curls that cover his head, falling into his eyes messily. And his eyes are the color of the ocean. Even comparing them to the ocean is an insult to Charlie. They’re much bluer than that. I can’t force myself to look away from him. His features are so soft. Even his eyes are large and fanned with thick lashes. His lips are also full with a bit of a pout to them. If my mother hadn’t taken him from his own family he may have grown into a pretty boy. But now he won’t grow up. I’ll make sure of it.

He finally looks up making eye contact with me and I don’t bother to look away. I want him to feel the fear of my presence. His eyes grow even wider as he takes me in, finally realizing the hell that I’ve been through.

I stand from where I’m seated walking over to him, and his trembling grows more violent as I approach. I can see the the tears already forming in his eyes. It makes me hate him even more. I hate the weak.

I roughly fist my fingers through his hair pulling him in close to me as I growl my promise.

“I am going to kill you,” I say. I wait for his response and to my satisfaction, the tears brimming his eyes spill over. Loud sobs release from his lips as well, and I tighten my grip pulling him in closer.

I still don’t blink. I want him to feel everything that I feel. I want him to soak in the danger that radiates from my every pore, just by existing. I want him to shake in fear every time I’m around him.

“I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully-”

Before I can finish my sentence, my mother is between us, yanking him from my hands and kicking me hard in the gut. Air is ripped from my lungs and a sudden wave of nausea washes over me.

“Don’t you ever touch him! He’s my sweet boy! He loves me!” she screams at me.

I don’t give her a reaction. She doesn’t deserve one. But I make sure to shift my gaze to Charlie. He’s looking at my mother in fear as well. I laugh to myself.

So much for love.

“If you touch him, I’ll kill you!” she screams at me with a crazed look in her eyes.

That’s all it takes for a smile to form on my lips.

Challenge accepted.

* * * * *

My parents have been fighting all week about Charlie. My father wants him dead since my mother kidnapped him. He’s a liability. My mother, however, wants to keep him. My mother gets beat for being defiant, and in turn I get beat by both of my parents.

But what does Charlie, the root of their current anger receive? Nothing.

Mother protects him with every fiber of her being, spouting off how much he is her salvation. He is her key to love. True love.

But like all things that have yet to be touched by reality, Charlie has finally become a victim of my father as well. My mother of course tried and failed to protect him. I don’t know what happened beyond the bedroom door of my parent’s room, but Charlie emerged that day with tears pouring down his cheeks, and not a scratch on him.

The longer he remains, the more he understands not only his situation, but my own. He watches me all the time. Not just out of fear. Out of wariness. And I hate it. I hate the pity I see in his eyes. He sees what they do to me, and he has grown to pity me.

The sound of my mother’s body hitting the floor pulls me out of my deep thoughts. I can hear the screams of both my mother and father emerging from behind their door. Another vibration rattles along the walls from the force of his beating.

My eyes drift across the room to Charlie. He is sitting in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. Irritation hits me hard as I take him in.

Weakling.

I slowly stand making my way across the room to where he cowers. Once I pass the couch, I reach into the worn cushions pulling my knife from its hiding place.

This is it. It’s time to finally get rid of him.

His back is to me as I approach. I imagine grabbing a fistful of his hair to force his head back and his expose his throat to me. I smile just thinking of the blood that will pour from his veins. My grip tightens around the blade and I shift, aiming for his back when he turns to look at me.

The deep oceanic color of his eyes captures me instantly. Turmoil swirls in his gaze and I feel as though they’re reflecting my own emotion as I look into them. The longer I glare the more I realize there’s something off about him. His breathing is shallow and he has a heavy blush staining his cheeks.

His eyes flicker to the knife and I hear a small whimper leave his lips. But he doesn’t call for my mother. He doesn’t beg for mercy. He closes his eyes, bowing his head as if accepting his fate. He isn’t scared of me. No, he is scared of me. What he doesn’t fear is death.

He’s ready.

We both jump as a loud thud sounds behind the doors to my parent’s bedroom followed by my mother’s prolonged screech of pain echoes throughout the house. When I look back at Charlie, his eyes are closed in anticipation hiding those emotional blue eyes from me. I reach out, grabbing a fistful of his curly locks to yank his head back, giving me the perfect view of his exposed throat. When I look back at his face, he’s watching me with that expression. He’s watching me take his life.

For the first time in my life, I feel hesitation.

I roughly let go of him kicking him in the chest. He cries out, sliding across the filthy carpet from the force. I whip away from him in irritation when his timid voice sounds.

“You’re not going to kill me…?”

His voice is soft like a child that’s too shy to ask for a cookie. I look at him in irritation.

“Does it look like I’m going to?” I snap.

His eyes widen in shock and he studies me for a long time before a loud knock sounds at the front door to our home. I shift my gaze away from Charlie to the door in confusion. No one visits here. Could someone have called the police?

I quickly stash my knife in its hiding place seconds before my father swings the bedroom door open and walks to the front of the house muttering to himself. I catch a glimpse of my mother laying in a puddle of her own blood before the door quickly slams, hiding her from my view.

“Who the fuck is it!” My father shouts.

“Is that any way to speak to your Capo?” The smooth voice comes from the other side of the door causing my father to tense and for the first time in my life, I see fear in his eyes. He immediately pushes his stringy hair out of his face, straightening his shirt as his eyes roam over the room immediately landing on Charlie. He quickly makes his way over to him, snatching him up by the collar. Charlie’s whimpers fill the room and my father immediately backhands him in retaliation.

I see blood leaking from his mouth from the impact of my father’s blow.

“Shut up. You make any sound and I will cut your tongue out. Got it?” he hisses.

Charlie swiftly nods his head and my father heads towards the basement door, opening it before pushing Charlie down the steps. I hear the sickening thuds as his body hits each step before he hits the bottom. My body involuntarily moves to check on him and I immediately stop myself.

“Romelo get the fucking door!” my father hisses.

I stand walking to the door to reveal Lorenzo Pasquino. His eyes roam over me, but unlike my father, I don’t feel fear. His gaze is intense, reading everything about me from just one glance. He walks past me into the house, followed by two men I’ve never seen before. And behind them comes his son. Luca. He’s around my age.

His hands are in his pockets as he steps over the threshold with a bored expression on his face. His cold gray eyes travel to me as he walks in the house. I meet his gaze with equal intensity. I can feel myself growing uneasy from his gaze but I try my best not to show it. After a while he scoffs at me walking further into the house and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Luca and I have known each other since we were born. My father is a subordinate of his father. He’s much lower down the ladder of men that serve Lorenzo. Even still, I’ve always known Luca.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Please, have a seat.”

My father smiles at Lorenzo with unease on his face, something that I don’t usually see. Lorenzo takes one look around our home with disgust prominent on his features before he responds.

“I think I’ll stand,” he says.

I take the time to walk towards the basement door while listening to their conversation.

“I think it’s about time we had a chat,” Lorenzo begins but I’ve already tuned them out. I want to stay and listen, but I have to check on Charlie. When I turn my head, Luca is standing right in front of me with a strange expression on his face. Usually I’m good at reading people but when it comes to Luca, I’m blank. His eyes scan over me quickly and he tilts his head slightly at me.

“What happened to your face?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I meet his gaze head on trying to give him the impression that I’m not intimidated.

He chuckles at my response, crossing his arms over his chest before uttering his response.

“Ok.” He angles his head once again, taking me in.

“Your father’s a dead man. You will be too if he doesn’t get his shit together.” He watches my reaction carefully. But I don’t give him one.

“Good,” I say simply earning me a raised brow.

“Luca.” We both look up as Lorenzo calls out to his son. Luca walks over to where his father is but I am all but shocked to see my own father pinned by Lorenzo against the wall.

“Time for a lesson,” he says. Luca smiles pulling a gun out as he makes his way towards my father.

“Tell Jack here what happens when loyalty is questioned.”

Luca presses the cold steel of his gun against my fathers temple then drags it slowly down until it’s flush against his shoulder. I tense when he pulls the trigger, earning a cry of pain from my father. He immediately drops to the ground in agony, clutching his shoulder.

Luca kneels next to him, pointing the gun at his head.

“That’s only if your loyalty is questioned, you son of a bitch.” Lorenzo laughs at Lucas words but I stare in shock. My father doesn’t even try and fight back. He just takes it. After a moment, Lorenzo kneels and whispers something to my father, and Luca comes towards me with his gun lazily in his hand, swinging it back and forth.

“We’ll see how long you last,” he says without sparing me a sideways glance.

Lorenzo and his men leave as quickly as they come, and my father wastes no time leaving the house to go to the hospital with my mother in tow.

Silence washes over me as the realization that I am alone sets in.

My eyes shift towards the basement door. There’s no sound. I slowly make my way towards the door pushing it open to walk down the stairs. Once I reach the bottom I feel around for the light switch. After seconds of fumbling around I finally find the switch, illuminating the basement.

Charlie is slouched against the wall, unconscious. There’s blood everywhere including the trail that now stains the concrete from where he dragged himself from the bottom of the stairs to his current position. I slowly make my way towards his body, my gaze narrowing when I see his shirt has ridden up slightly. I reach for the fabric, something strange catching my eye.

My eyes widen as I raise the shirt. There’s a large gash that trails from his hip to his rib. It looks infected which explains his feverish appearance earlier. He also has a split lip from my father’s attack and there is now a knot forming on the back of his head.

I place my finger under his nose. He’s still breathing but barely.

I suck in a deep breath picking him up just as shock washes over me. He’s surprisingly light for his age. I make my way carefully out of the basement to get him fixed up.

* * * * *

The house is silent.

My parents are home and for once, sleeping. My father is high on painkillers, and my mother is exhausted from having the shit beat out of her. I hear a light creak and yank my knife from under my pillow holding it out to the intruder.

A light gasp fills the room and I know immediately who it is.

Charlie.

I reach over and turn on the lamp dimly lighting my room. Charlie is staring at me with wide eyes and a bandage over his head.

“What do you want?” I growl out. He still stares at me with those eyes, and begins nervously rubbing his fingers together.

“I-I just wanted to say thank you,” he mumbles. He doesn’t look at me as he speaks.

“Ok.” I roll over in my bed hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Wait…” I look back at him in irritation.

“Why did you do it.. I thought you were going to kill me..”

Silene overcomes us and I can’t think of an answer. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’ve always followed through on my promises, but now with Charlie I’m breaking them.

Maybe it’s because I feel a newfound respect for him. I thought he was just a sniveling brat but now I see he’s been abused same as me and hid it. That wound was nasty and it no doubt came from my father the day he locked Charlie in the room with him. Even when I was going to kill him, he still said nothing. He silently accepted it. He’s a survivor. Like me.

I roll over and lay down on my side, turning my back to Charlie.

“Get out of my fucking room,” I say, closing my eyes. I listen for him to move, and after a moment he finally closes my door and leaves my bedroom.

I feel irritation at this new development. I can only hope that he doesn’t think that just because I made the decision not to end his life it means that we are going to be friends. Eventually, my father will get tired of him and the trouble he no doubt brings, and end him. If not, my mother will go crazy and do it. It’s just a matter of time now. A matter of fate, and a matter of who.