I heard Tristan, Leone, and Vito talking. Angel snapped back her gaze to me, glaring at me with disappointment. My friend's voice dissipated in my hearing path as all my attention drifted to her.
"She saved me!" For the nth times, she snapped.
My gaze on her was intense, silently pleading her to ask anything but not this. I just hope she gets what I meant. I just wished she'll take her cute little nose out of our parent-son relationship. The hurt was too far deep to restore if she meant to heal it.
She released my mother's hand, with the same hand, she took mine and gave it a squeeze, her gaze never left mine. Her eyes pleading me, piercing into my very broken soul.
I tore my gaze away, tracing it back to the woman who destroyed my childhood, who did nothing but planted scars in my fragile heart and soul until there's no space in my innocent mind, heart, and soul to rip.
My insides tightened.
The pain started when I turned four. When I'm old enough to differ right from wrong, what happiness and sadness mean. People from the streets often told me I think too maturely for my age, but they didn't know I have no choice.
I stared at her chocolate brown eyes, and painful memories started flashbacking, like broken disk flickering in my head, then it stopped where it all started. It all started when I began asking for my father...
"Momma, where is papa?" I asked. I was barely four.
Her chocolate eyes turned darker brown. She stared at me murderously, and I knew at that moment, even at my age, she hated my father.
"Don't ever ask about him ever again!" she shouted. Her eyes shimmering with rage, all I did was furiously nod my head and resumed eating, in silence.
That start my misery. She would come home with a new man every night. I didn't know what's her job until she brought a man in our small, cramp apartment one night, then before my eyes, I witnessed how happy she is as the man fucked her brains out. And from that night, it went on and on.
I despised her job, so after they did it, I told her that I hate seeing her with that man, and for the first time, she beats me. She shoved me against the wall, my back hit the brick wall, and for the first time, I felt real pain.
I thought not knowing my father hurt like hell, but hitting the wall with my backbone paled in comparison. It was a real pain, I thought, I'm gonna die. And if I thought she was done with me, she gave me one last kick in my stomach with her words. "I just wish I had killed you when you were a baby!" she yelled before storming out of the door, slamming it shut behind her.
"Lorenzo, get your tiny ass up, mamma's starving, you lazy little shit!"
My weak, shivering body of high fever refused to move, protested for any slight movement due to my injured back. My heavy eyelids barely opened, and through the small slit opening, I see a blurred figure of my mother with her hands planted on her hips as she hovered over my curled little limbs, her eyes filled with overwhelming disgust.
"Momma," I whispered in my hoarse voice. My mouth and throat parched, but I can't move, I am far too weak to get me some water. I'm shivering inside, my lips were dry and felt chopped.
Her eyes turned into slits, and her lips curled a hateful sneer.
"I need water, momma," I pleaded, my voice was soft and brittle. She threw me an offensive look. I flinched backward, burning pain in my lower back erupted within me, and I winced. I swallowed the groan back.
YOU ARE READING
Falling For Her NightmareRomance
Warning: Contains graphic scenes, mature languages, and swearing. (Sequel to His Wicked Ways) He's lethally cold, impassioned bastard and she loathed him. He's the reason of her father's death. But why her heart stutte...