Psychopath Love Series 2 Dashiels Forbidden Love

Home, school, and work. In the few years that I have lived in this world, my life revolves around these three things. It may be tiring and boring, but I have no choice because this is the life that God has given me.

Even as a child, I was aware of the truth that I had no parents and that I needed to work hard if I wanted to have food to eat and survive in this world. At a young age, work was already a part of my life. I had to work to live.

At a young age, my parents should have been the ones working for me and for our family, to provide for our daily needs and, most importantly, to send me to school.

But unfortunately, I didn't have that. I didn't have parents whom I could rely on whenever I needed support. I didn't have parents who would send me to school and take care of me, so I had to work doubly hard to earn money for my education and our daily needs, together with my grandmother.

At a very young age, I never had the chance to meet my father, and as for my mother? They took her away from me. They took her away from me.

It all started when I was four.

"Mama, what are you doing?" I asked confidently.

As she turned to look at me from the window, holding her chest as if in pain, I felt a surge of concern upon seeing her face.

Her lips were cracked, and blood was seeping from them. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't combed it in years. The haggardness of her face was also visible, which confused me. I was confused about what had happened to her and why she was acting as if something or someone was chasing her and she had to hide.

"Ma, are you okay?" I asked again, looking at her worriedly.

She nodded and stuttered, trying to force a smile, as if that smile would assure me that she was fine.

I sighed deeply because of her lie. Yes, she said that she was okay, but deep down, I knew she wasn't. I knew that something was bothering her.

She peered out the window again and quickly hid. Because of her strange behavior, I couldn't help but be curious about what she was watching.

I quickly went down the stairs and went to the window to look outside. I climbed onto the sofa next to the window to get a better view. If I didn't use the sofa, I wouldn't be able to see outside because the window was too high for me.

I was about to do the same thing she was doing, but she stopped me by closing the windows. She even hugged me tight before carrying me to the second floor of our house.

I struggled from her embrace because I wanted to see what she was looking at. I wanted to know the reason for her strange behavior.

"Put me down, Mama!" I commanded, hoping that she would follow me.

Put me down, mama!" I shouted at her, hoping that she would obey me even though I knew it was impossible. She's my mom, and I am just her four-year-old daughter. She is not obliged to do whatever I want her to do.

I tried so hard to escape from her grip, but nothing changed. My mom is so strong; she has enough strength.

"Let me see it, please mama," I said to her tiredly as I kept struggling, but she still didn't let go of me.

I didn't know what was wrong with me, and why I really wanted to see the thing she was looking at earlier. There was something inside me that kept telling me that I should see it because there was something important about it.

I knew I was too young to interfere, but I couldn't help it. I didn't know why I had these thoughts when I was just four years old, trying to solve problems in my head.

As soon as we arrived in my room, she immediately let me go and rushed to the windows to close them. She even closed the curtains.

"What was that, mama, and why don't you want to tell me?" I asked her, this time it was the last window she closed.

"It's nothing, my child," she answered before turning to me and starting to walk out of the room.

"What do you mean it's nothing? You were acting like--" I couldn't finish my sentence when someone interrupted us from behind.

"Mercy, can we talk?" my grandma asked my mom. My mom quickly nodded and came over to me.

"My mom kissed my head before whispering that it was just nothing. After that, she left my room, probably to talk to my grandmother. But before that, she closed my room door. It was like she was ensuring that I wouldn't hear anything they were going to talk about.

And yeah, she did it right. Not a single word from outside, from their conversation, reached my ears. They sounded like they were just whispering and not really talking.

The two pairs of feet were still in front of my room door, a sign that they were still there and I couldn't think of anything. I thought that maybe I couldn't hear what they were talking about because they were downstairs and talking. But when I saw their two pairs of feet, my doubts vanished. They probably just intentionally lowered their voices so I couldn't hear.

Bored of looking at their feet and waiting for information from them, I got up from my crouched position on the floor and walked towards my bed. I sat there and waited for the door to open.