I feel the viscous blood between my fingers as I hold my throat. She’s on the floor, naked and bloodied after the fifteen stab wounds I gave her in her heart. Suddenly her eyes open and stare at me with the smile I learned to hate after loving.
I wake up sweating profusely; it's just another of my recurring nightmares from when I killed my stepmother, who abused me when my father traveled for work. I was fourteen when it all began; my father married a young woman of twenty-two.
Who wouldn't want to marry the king of engines, a billionaire who, despite his age, looked younger? He attracted the attention of a woman who had her own plans.
When she met me, she gave a huge smile. I was already quite tall; I took after my father in genetics. But even though I was tall, I was only fourteen. She married my father six months after my fourteenth birthday.
Who would have guessed she was a sexual predator? Anyway, on my sixteenth birthday, I got tired of it all. She would burn me with a curling iron on my arms, my butt, and wherever else she wanted. She would put me on all fours and whip me with a belt, tie up my balls and squeeze them, among other tortures besides sex.
My father had traveled with the promise to return and celebrate my birthday with me. But I was already tired of the physical and psychological tortures; I was tired of being used and abused by her, so I kept a knife under my pillow.
She entered my room naked, as always. She came at me, and that's when I pulled the knife. I hit her three times until the knife slipped, and she grabbed it, slashing my throat. I thought my life would end there. We got into another struggle. When I managed to get the knife, I didn't blink. I sat on top of her, and it was liberating.
Each stab for each torture, each abuse, it was perfect. But I was losing blood; the cut seemed deep. I just lay down beside her and closed my eyes.
When I woke up, I witnessed a nasty fight between my parents. My wrist is handcuffed to the bed, and I try to call out to them.
"It's your fault, Ryan. I shouldn't have left my son with you; you made me believe it would be better for him, and look what happened."
"Safira, I already told you I don't know what happened. I don't know what led him to kill Leticia. Let's wait for him to wake up."
"Seriously, Ryan? She was naked in our son's room; that bitch was abusing him under your roof. And those marks on him, will there be an explanation for those too? Or was it you who did that to him?"
"Mom, my father never laid a finger on me," I say with great difficulty.
"Dom, my son, what did that bitch do to you? Why did you kill her?"
"Safira, he's already strained himself too much; leave the questions for tomorrow."
"Don't talk to me, Ryan. My son is going to my house when he gets out of here."
"I'm his legal guardian, and don't forget that unfortunately, he still has to answer for the crime."
"We are responsible for him; I only unfortunately allowed him to live with you. But I'll sort this out soon."
No… I don't want to live with my mother; I like my father. I thought at that moment, little did I know I would spend the next three years of my life in a psychiatric clinic. A court decision after a psychiatrist, bribed by my father, stated that I had a psychotic break after so much time of physical, sexual, and mental abuse.
When I left the clinic, I went straight to my father's house. There was another nasty fight between him and my mother. She didn't want to allow me to continue with him, but I was already nineteen, and she couldn't decide anything for me.
Five years later, I lost my mother in a plane crash. My father had already placed me beside him in the company and taught me everything I needed to know about the production of various engines that were sold worldwide. When I turned twenty-five, I took control of everything.
My father discovered prostate cancer too late, and I stayed by his side until his last breath. Both he and my mother left me a huge inheritance.
My professional life was always perfect, but my social life wasn't so good. My cousins and best friends, the twins Jack and Jason, are always trying to get me out of my comfort zone to meet women.
The problem with meeting women is being touched by them. Every time it happens, I feel the pain of torture burning my body. I can't do anything; I always leave them with ten thousand in their pocket in a hotel room.
Present day…
"We have a party to go to tonight, and you're coming with us," Jack says, loosening his tie knot as he sits on the sofa in my office.
"I've already told you I don't like going out, I don't like people, I don't like society. Did you forget what happened the last time you made me go out?"
"Why did you kill that guy? He just bumped into you and spilled a drink on your pants; you didn't have to beat him to death."
"You know he wasn't the only one, nor the first. I'm not sociable, and I shouldn't frequent environments with such irritating beings."
"Jack, have you told him yet?" Jason enters, also loosening his tie knot.
"Yes, Jason, but I think we'll have to call Diogenes. I believe our cousin is going to kill someone else tonight."
"I'll only kill if you insist on my presence at this stupid party," I say without taking my eyes off my computer screen.
"Jack, did you tell him it's a party dedicated to Dark Romance and that we'll be evil characters who will scare and seduce women?" I stop typing and look at Jason. "We can wear masks, we have to dress in black and be the terror and desire of some women."
"Wear masks?" I ask, a finger on my chin.
If I kill someone tonight, I won't need Diogenes to clean up my mess, as usual. After my father's death, I ended up meeting a mobster named Diogenes Maltes and forming a partnership with him in the underworld.
"If you insist so much, I'll go, but I won't be responsible for what happens after the mask is on my face."
I give them a cold smile and then turn my attention back to my computer. What does tonight have in store for me?
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