His Sour Lemon #2.1

Part 9: The Bend And Break Of Jealousy At Stake

CHAPTER 9: The Bend And Break of Jealousy At Stake

April 19th, 2028.
12:29 pm, Outskirts of New York City, America.
Creed Mansion.

I did as I was told. What kid wouldn't after being shackled down for the past nine years of his life and finally finding pure warmth in what ever machine was sitting against the wall, providing a warmth that seemed toasty-the best way a kid like me could describe it. My limbs were hoarse, untamed and untouched by the cold bite of years in a shackled, rat-infested room open to the wintry cold of the outside air. I was still muddy, bloody and shaking in my bones when the door opened, silver eyes stare at mine, he looks at me, "You could have showered, boy." He says, blankly.

I blink, shrugging, he points to the room with another open door and huffs, strutting inside, "If you're going to live here, you need to learn quicker than that, boy. This is an en-suite, shower and change into the clothes provided for you in the cabinet. If you're longer than fifteen minutes, I will make you starve even further than you're useless self already is, understood?" He slices the air with his voice. I nod profusely, wincing at the bite in his voice.

It was cold. He was cold. Yet, he still let me in. There's a bed. A machine that sprouts out heaven rays against my skin, until he starts yelling, "WHAT DID I SAY BEFORE?!" He growls lowly, strutting up to me, I stumble back in fear. Maybe it wasn't the best idea-walking into a stranger's house and asking for warmth.

"Y-yes, sir."

He stares me down, the quaking of the floorboards illuminated his high top footsteps echoes down my spine like a riveting tornado in my ear drums. The reality of fear set in my ice cold robotic bones as he leans down and narrows his eyes, "You are to verbally answer me, Edmund. And you won't like the consequences if you don't. Have a shower and be quick about it, I'll be downstairs. Charlize is too as I'd my main manager, Nicolas. Be prompt and don't mess me around. Do you know what the means?" He asks me, a question to a quiz where punishment would have been set into motion had I answer him wrong, or didn't speak with my tongue.

"Be quick." I say, staring up at him.

He steps around me, "And do as your told. Hurry up." He says to me in a nonchalant mutter as he pulls out his phone.

I turn to him, "Your eyes..." He stops at the door. As if staring at the perfected brown wood that glossed over, he could see his reflection, or at least had to have seen it-considering I could see mine perfectly.

"Speak up." He snaps at me.

I stiffen, "Are you my Dad?" I ask, immediately. My voice wasn't strong enough. My limbs were weakening at the almost heated air that brushed against my tainted pale white skin, what was left of me if he hadn't rescued me from the orphanage. He may have been harsh, but there must of been some kind of kindness in him to stop for me. To stop the guards from hitting me, to stop the wheels on his expensive cars from flattening me against the glacial road and smear my blood over the tracks. He didn't do that...that made him kind. Kind hearted with a rough exterior maybe.

What the hell did I know?

He's shown me more kindness than anyone I've ever met.

******

March 16th, 2042.
5:56 pm, London, United Kingdom.
Advanced Business Engagements Academy (Private Business Institution), Sylvan Lakeshore.