His Sour Lemon #2.1

Part 11: Protectiveness In Overdrive

CHAPTER 11: Protectiveness In Overdrive

January 1st, 2029.
6:00 pm, Outskirts of New York City, America.
Creed Mansion, third floor.

Living in unadulterated fear became a normal routine for a screwed up ten year old, such as myself. One bad day at work, in the dead of night, I'd heard the female Oswald was always with scream. Throwing things everywhere in their room. When I stood up, worried for her safety, even if she rarely speaks to me, I stepped up to the door and knocked, "Ma'am." I called out, my voice cracked from when I screamed after a sore beating the man I no longer believed was a human being severed my skin, rendering it difficult to even walk.

She rips the door open, hand covered in hot red blood and eyes that looked wild, like a feral animal. She had softened for a single moment before I look at the lines on her wrist and she darkens, "Don't ever come to me again, filth." She spits at me, slamming the door closed.

I freeze at the palpable shift in the air, silver eyes stare at me from down the hall, "What are you doing out of your room?" He asks me, roughly.

I point to the door, "I heard her scream. There was blood on her hand." I say to him.

He narrows his eyes, "Return to your room and go to bed." I don't argue as I move past him.

Only he grabs my arm roughly and turns me back to face his squatted form, "I wouldn't hurt you if you'd just do as your told, Edmund. Do you understand that? What I do with Charlize is none of your business, it is not wrong to hit a woman. Some even like it and are submissive to it. Your mother was one. She was the best one." He says to me.

I stare at his neck, "I've seen girls get hit and die from it. I don't believe it's right." I say, confidently.

He raises an eyebrow, silver eyes penetrating mine, "Men need dominance to survive and we thrive on it by keeping woman in line. Do remember that before speaking a voice you do not own." He says to me, standing and pointing to the door of the room I'm warm enough to sleep in, but not loved enough to call it home.

I return to it and look back when Oswald opens the door, "What do you think you're doing?" He spits at her.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screams. The guards stay tense where they stand, I look to them, I was already injured, heading her scream and plead to stop had me running for the door.

"STOP!" I scream at him.

Charlize stares at me, "Run, boy! Run!" She says to me.

Before Oswald backhands me hard enough to lose consciousness altogether.

*******

March 26th, 2042.
10: 30 am, London, United Kingdom.
Advanced Business Engagements Academy (Private Business Institution), Sylvan Lakeshore.

Erik locked on the screen on his phone...barely last night did I first see it and now I couldn't get the image out of my head in this early Wednesday morning. The dress she sported was so very unlike her, it made me swallow at just the mere sight of it and when I asked Erik, he said it was some sort of club a few kilometres from here. That was all he could get. The moment the message entered the air, I looked towards the picture when his eyes widened at it. Lorraine saw it, vaguely mentioning she had been the one to choose that particular dress. One Lemon apparently swore she's never wear, given how unlike her other business attires restricted to. This was no fucking business attire.