Alessandro 16+ / Book 2

Chapter 3: Questions

My eyes water as they keep staring at him, sitting on the ground with his knees pressed into his chest, and his head leaned on his knees, his wild green eyes on me.

Just like a child.

My papa never acted this way before.

During the past few days here, I have come to fully understand that he is a whole new person, someone with issues.

Anyone could have guessed that from the moment I was held, but it's really obvious now.

"What do you mean, my angel?" He inquires, his eyes twitching. I've noticed that his eyes twitch occasionally, and I can't quite fathom why.

A grin spreads across his face when I remain silent, and he leans in for a closer look. "I'm just a bit on edge, you know..."

He reaches into his leather jacket pocket and retrieves a bottle of pills. "Yeah, I have one of these and a couple more stashed away. I've been battling depression, anxiety, and mental health issues," he chuckles, shaking his head as if it's hard to believe what he's been going through. "That's what those darn doctors said when I ended up in the hospital after getting hit by a car and stayed there for months."

I want to react to what he said, but my body can't, so I stay silent, staring at him as I try to keep myself from collapsing.

What was he even doing that made him get hit by a car?

"You...You were hit by a car?" My weak voice asks, barely audible.

"Y-"

"I wished you'd died that day," I mutter.

If he were mentally stable, I wouldn't have wished harm upon him. All I've ever wanted is to reunite with him and my brother. But now, he's become a deranged, unstable man.

"I could've been angry with you, but here I am, free while you're locked in there..." I feel the urge to roll my eyes, but my weakened body can't handle the strain. "I've been in mental institutions several times for months. After getting out, I ended up in jail a few times. It was tough, dealing with psychiatric wards and all, but the best part is that when I finally got out, I had my revenge in mind. You're first on the list."

"I-I would've been-been so happy if you were lucid and would've been so-so fucking happy that I was the first person that you thought of when you-you left jail...but I am not. Not when you are this person, sick in the f-fucking head," my weak voice speaks coldly, my eyes watching his every move.

"It's a good thing that I don't care about your happiness and want to see nothing but you dead. I will kill you...oh, I can't wait. I won't kill you now, but soon. I just need you to suffer in unbearable ways as I did first." He then rubs his hands together, pivoting his head to the side where a bag I didn't notice before sits.

The mere thought of food and water makes my mouth water instantly. "Well," he says, causing my teary eyes to turn toward him as he approaches the bag, and I hope it contains food for both me and my baby.

My stomach rumbles loudly as he clutches the bag, my dry mouth slightly opening as he turns toward me, holding the bag like a prized possession.

"Ah, now you're hungry, aren't you?" He teases, delving into the bag and pulling out a bottle of water, and I watch it with my mouth watering.

The clear, crystal clear, refreshing water.

My eyes track his every movement as he twists the top, my heart pounding with each turn, fearing that something might come and snatch it away.

I fear not having to drink it.

The lid finally falls off, and my father shoves it through the bars.

As I am slowly reaching for it, he shakes his head and then starts pouring it out on the floor, suddenly making my heart fall to my stomach, and I somehow manage to position myself on my hands and knees, looking up at him with my mouth wide to collect the water.