Deadly Obsession - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Romelo

The sun is beating down on my back hard causing sweat to trickle heavily down my face. It’s the middle of the week and my parents are currently at work, meaning my father is doing business for Lorenzo and my mother is at her actual job.

Whenever my parents aren’t around I can train to make myself stronger. And one day, I will be strong enough to kill them.

My mother decided not to place me in the public school system. If she did that, teachers would start poking around regarding my bruises and scarring. My parents may be psychotic, but they aren’t stupid. I recall in my earlier youth, my mother homeschooled me. That ship sailed when her mind did. So whenever I have the house to myself, I train. Whether it’s to self educate or in combat, I train.

I’m in the middle of a pushup when I hear the door to the backyard open. I don’t have to look t know it’s Charlie. The hesitant footsteps give him away immediately. I ignore his presence as he moves around me settling into the worn lawn chair.

“Why don’t you escape?” His voice comes out of the silence and I immediately want to hit him. Instead, I choose not to respond. I only finish my current set making my way to the fence that holds my towel. I silently wipe the sweat from my face and when I look back at Charlie, he’s watching me with those deep blue eyes. I let out a sound of irritation before finally responding.

“There is no escape. I was born into this hell.”

I don’t wait for a response as I make my way to the thick tree that grows in our backyard. I ignore the pain in my fists as I begin to strike it.

“What do you mean born into this?” I stop what I’m doing, gripping the bark before whipping my gaze to him.

“Can’t you see that I’m fucking busy?” I snap in irritation. He flinches from my tone immediately dropping his gaze. I take that as him not speaking to me anymore, so I go back to my training. It’s quiet for about five minutes when Charlie decides to speak again.

“Why are you hitting the tree?” he asks. I continue what I’m doing when I respond.

“I’m not just hitting it. I’m training.”

Silence.

“Why?”

“Because I need to get stronger.”

“What’s the point of getting stronger if you can’t escape?” I let out an irritated sigh. It’s obvious that he isn’t going to let me focus on what I need to do. I turn to look at him, making sure to catch his eyes in my gaze, making sure he understands my anger.

“Do you think, that because I didn’t kill you that this is ok?” I ask in irritation. His eyes widen slightly and he drops his eyes.

“I.. was just asking a question..” he says, holding his head down. I growl as frustration courses through me.

“I can leave anytime I want to. But I’ll never be able to truly escape because my parents belong to the mafia. Which means that by blood, I belong to it as well. So there is no escape for me. Not until I die.” Charlie’s eyes widen.

“Then, why did they kidnap me…?” His voice begins to quiver as he speaks.

“Because my mother is a psychotic bitch,” I growl.

“So... I’m never going to get to go home..” he sniffles before tears begin running down his eyes. Irritation is evident as I look at him. He is pathetic and weak. And I have no time for the weak. I stalk over to him, grabbing him roughly by the shirt holding him inches from my face. His feet are dangling and he’s watching me with fear in his gaze.

“Listen to me you pathetic little fuck. Crying about it isn’t going to change anything. Do you hate being here that much? Kill yourself. Do you want to escape? Get stronger, and get the fuck out. Tears are going to get you nowhere in this hell hole. Now get the fuck out of here so I can focus.” I shove him backward and he roughly falls over the chair crying out as he hits the ground.

I turn back and make my way to the tree. I don’t hear any noise around me so I assume that Charlie went back inside where he belongs. I hear shuffling and Charlie is standing next to me.

“What are you doing?” I growl.

“Can I train with you…?” I narrow my eyes at him. He’s looking down, playing with his thumbs.

“Why?” I snap.

“Because. The only way I can get out of here is if I escape. And I can’t if I don’t get stronger,” he says meeting my gaze. Those blue orbs are filled with determination. I study Charlie. Really study him. His features are so soft and delicate, and his physique is laughable. His arms are scrawny and not only that, but he is short for a 13-year-old. He’s weak and doesn’t stand a chance but as I stare at him, newfound respect develops for him.

“Ok.”

* * * * *

The days turn to weeks, and the weeks turn to months. Charlie and I train every time my parents are away from home. The only issue is that Charlie seems to be getting smaller instead of bigger. He’s clumsy with a knife and can’t use one for shit. His combat skills, if I can even call them that, are weak. His reflexes are slow and with no power behind them, his blows do little to no damage.

In the time we’ve been training, he’s managed to grow on me in a way that no one ever has. Watching him try his hardest only to fail has brought out the urge to protect him. Which makes things more complicated for me. I only had myself to worry about before. But now Charlie is like a brother to me. I can’t leave him.

His beatings have been worse and worse as well. They’ve come from my mother of all people. Since the months have gone by Charlie’s hair has grown and it’s something that has triggered my mother. I can still hear his screams as she dragged him from the room, locking the door. He re-emerged later with his eye swollen shut.

I look up from my place against the wall taking in Charlie’s weak form. This week we had to skip training. My mother refuses to feed us. I’m used to this kind of abuse but Charlie is not doing well.

I silently make my way to where Charlie is curled up in fetal position against the wall, his body shaking violently.

“Charlie.”

He tenses when he hears my voice but slowly relaxes when he realizes it’s me. I place my hand on his shoulder and he slowly rolls over to face me. He’s so small. So fragile. His blue gaze latches onto mine capturing me like always. Every time I look into his gaze I find myself wondering where those eyes came from. They are the most exotic color I’ve ever seen.

I find myself pushing his hair from his clammy skin. His hair has grown to his shoulders in large ringlets that are now sticking to his sweat-drenched skin. The length of his hair makes his soft features stand out even more and I can’t help the soft laugh that leaves my lips as I take him in.

“Can you stand?” I whisper. He shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

I find myself fighting to reign in my anger. Charlie has always been soft-spoken. But now his voice sounds even more frail than usual. The sound is so muted, it could be carried away by the wind. It makes the hatred for my parents grow even further. And my promise to kill them locked.

Charlie’s soft groan brings me out of my thoughts. His eyes are squeezed tight in pain. It must be hunger pains. I reach out helping him up and we slowly make our way to my bedroom.

“Where are we going?” he murmurs.

I don’t respond to him. Once we’re in my room I close the door and head to the window, pulling it open. I’m met with a blast of cold air and immediately move to grab the worn quilt off my bed, wrapping it around Charlie’s tiny frame. He’s shaking like crazy.

I slowly help him up and out the window and follow suit.

* * * * *

The walk to our destination takes thirty minutes. It would be shorter, but I have to carry Charlie on my back because he is so weak. His body was so tiny and frail, however, I barely notice him. He’s dying. Slowly but surely. If I don’t get him some food, he’ll slip into a coma and die within the week.

“Romelo, where are we going?” he whispers in my ear.

“To get you something to eat.” He lays his head against my shoulder a light sob escaping his lips.

“I feel weak,” he whispers.

“…I know.”

Once we reach the gas station I pull Charlie off my back, making him lean against the wall of the side of the building.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” I say as I tuck the blanket around him tighter. He looks at me with lazy eyes, nodding his head slightly. I look at him one last time before heading into the store.

The store is empty except for the man behind the counter. He looks to be middle-aged with graying hair. I make sure to keep my head down as I head in the direction of the bathroom. Sure enough, his office is also back here. The door is locked though. So I pull out my two pins and begin working on the lock. It takes me about a minute and a half to work out the tumblers before the door finally opens to reveal the office.

I take in the monitors and I can see the entire store on the screen. I make my way to the controls pausing the feed so that it stops recording before heading back into the store. I grab ravioli, chocolate, chips, and drinks, and make my way to the counter. The cashier grabs everything, places it in a bag, and pushes it towards me.

“That all rings up to $15.42,” he says.

I don’t say a word as I grab the bag making my way to the door. If he lets me leave, he won’t needlessly die. I’m barely to the front door when he calls out to me.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You have to pay for that!” he shouts but I continue to walk. I hear footsteps and sure enough, I feel his hand on my shoulder. I whip around quickly, jerking away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I growl. He glares at me in frustration.

“If you let me leave, I won’t slice your fucking throat,” I growl.

I wasn’t planning on killing him. It’s too much of a hassle to deal with when I’m more focused on saving Charlie. But after the shock dissipates from his face, he lets his anger get the best of him deciding his fate.

He swings at me, but I catch his fist and bring my knee up connecting it to the joint where his elbow meets. The snap is so loud it echoes off the walls. I don’t give him time to scream as I pull my knife out running it across his throat. I watch in fascination as blood wells to the surface and spills over like a waterfall.

He grabs his throat with his good hand, trying to staunch the bleeding, his eyes growing wide in shock. He falls to the floor with a heavy thud, the blood still seeping from his body surrounding him like a puddle.

I kneel over his dying body, wiping the knife on his clothes to remove the blood. Then I stand, leaving the store.