Callum's Pov
The fucked up teachers had advised my father to take me to a psychiatric rehab after being violent three times at school, and he listened. I craved to see Ophelia after being locked up; I wondered many crazy things: 'What if she was with another boy?' 'What if she was ruffling his hair and not mine?'
I seldom ate and slept thinking about her as I sat in my room at the rehabilitation center as she would just show up, but Lia, my doll, didn't.
I couldn't take it any longer after staying ten days locked in, and that's the first time I committed murder, but no one found out. Why? Father covered it up; he couldn't let his newfound toy get caught. His thoughts that a mad boy couldn't take his post as a Don was lost in the drain.
I made it to school at noon when it was closing hour with a blood-soiled shirt and hands with dried blood, but I still made myself unnoticed to others as I went in search of my little doll before her father came to pick her up himself or her plus-sized nanny.
Guessing a place she might be when I found her nowhere. I went to the rooftop, and I saw her there with her red hair flowing gently with the breeze. She was like a walking rose and lily "Ophelia." Her name fell like hot rocks from my lips just like I had called her today on her supposed wedding day with her fiance.
Shock and fear were what she showed when she turned to look at me with those chocolate-brown eyes of hers. I found myself almost running to her but she moved back with her back hitting the rail. She shook her head, staring down at my blood-stained shirt. "Did you beat up someone today?" She asked me, and I nodded with an ugly smile on my lips.
She had always said we were friends, and one thing that builds friendship is honesty. "They wouldn't let me come to you, so I did that." I brought out scissors from my pocket with blood dripping from the tip. "This, I used this." Her back hits the rail as her back slides down the metal softly, with muffled cries leaving her lips she had covered with her palm.
I remembered moving again, but she shook her head and threatened if I came anywhere close to her, she would slam the vase next to her into my head, but I still didn't care until she threatened me about falling off the rooftop if I didn't leave that instant and never come back to her. My little doll had called me a beast. She had told me the saddest thing: that she had never liked me, that she would never be friends with a cruel beast. I called her by the pet name I had given her, 'little doll,' but I had fucked everything up already.
I left like she had said because I didn't want to scare her. I was so dumb and I wanted to be her friend again that I went back to the rehab submissively wanting to be like every normal kid. I wanted to curb the violence that courses through my veins, but I couldn't; it only got worse because my father had found out my potential. He had another pawn to manipulate in his mafia games.
Instead of using the son of his love-born mistress, my other brother Hansel, who also happened to be my cousin due to his mother being my mother's sister, for his bloody task. Father had trained me instead and Hansel alongside his mother, my aunt got scared, they saw me as a threat which led to their death in my hands and father didn't feel a thing 'It's a kill or gets killed thing to him' he doesn't care about family; A fucked up narcissist.
Went into the dark side, letting it drown every inch of me, mastering the gun, knives, and chains like guitars, but still, I couldn't get her off my mind even when she had gone to college. I wanted to become clean for her but the more I tried to, the more I got stained in people's blood and the more my heart got tainted with selfishness. From a teenage attraction, I became obsessed; I asked my men to watch her and take pictures when I went back to Italy, the place where I truly belonged.
I had no guts to call her 'little doll' again because she had added in the right places that fifteen-year-old girl had grown into a piece of art her father couldn't wait to put in a show glass. I found out the submissive daughter she had grown to become, even if her father had asked her to marry a cow she would have done it without thinking twice so I did what I had to do; Married her hiding my face with the terror I had become but she doesn't even seem to remember me.
I had taken secret pictures of her in her room at the manor she was locked in whenever I came back from Italy to visit. When she slept naked, I would pull the coverlet down so I could stare at what was mine. My little doll had grown so amazing and my obsession grew stronger as I began getting her face and the body parts I wanted to feel in my hands tattooed on my body.
I had fucked her severally in my head, jerked off, and gotten blow jobs from other women who almost looked like her, like Helena Colton, who seemed to have taken everything seriously, being a bitch. I had fucked the name Helena countless times, but the body had been molded in my head as Ophelia's when she had left me.
My dick which had become flaccid a little after talking with Zal grew rigid again, and I l left the bar to hug my imagination since I couldn't have her yet.