Psychopath Love Series #2: Dashiel's 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.

I already accepted it. I accepted that I wouldn't hear their conversation. I got my teddy bear from the side of the bed and hugged it.

"Grandma, what's happening?" I asked my grandmother when I woke up that evening because of the noise from police sirens and the noise of our gossiping neighbors.

Earlier, while I was waiting for them to finish their conversation, I got bored. I got so bored to the point of dozing off. So, I fell asleep while waiting for them to finish talking.

And now I woke up because of the deafening noise.

I looked up at grandmother but after several seconds and no response from her, I saw her eyes tearing up and hurting as she stared at a particular spot - where my mom was.

"Grandma, what are they doing to my mom?" I asked her the only thing I could think of as I followed her gaze - and there I saw my mom being forced into a car by two men.

When I realized that I wouldn't get an answer from my grandmother because she was busy crying and it was impossible for me to get her attention, I didn't waste any more time. I quickly ran towards them to ask the police what they were doing to my mother and why they were forcing her into a car.

"Mr. Police, where are you taking my mother? And what are you doing to her?"

Because of my question, the two police officers stopped talking. They also turned to look at me.

One police officer tapped the shoulder of the other police officer, a sign that the other officer would be the one to explain things to me. After that, the police officer got into his car.

An old police officer knelt in front of me, causing us to have eye-level contact, "We are arresting your mother," he answered my question, causing confusion in me.

"What?!" I exclaimed, "Why?" My surprise was evident in my voice.

"Did my mother do something wrong that's why you're arresting her?"

I was right, right? That if a police officer arrests someone, it means that person did something wrong.

My mother told me that only bad people are arrested by the police, so why are they arresting my mother? She's not bad, and she's kind. So why are they arresting her?

The police officer in front of me was about to answer, but the other police officer interrupted our conversation.

"Let's go, man," the police officer said. The police officer in front of me immediately stood up and turned his back on me, maybe to get into the car.

Before he could get into the car, I asked him, "Police officer, did my mother do something wrong?"

I thought he was going to answer my question, but I was wrong. He just gave me a shrug on the head before getting into the car without saying anything.

I hurriedly approached their car when I saw them getting in, and I started hitting it with my fists. "Police officer! Police officer!" I called out to them, hoping that they would answer my question.

"Did my mother do something wrong?"

At this point, my eyes started to water because it seemed hopeless that they would answer my question.

I hit their windshield again, hoping that I would get an answer this time. But I was wrong again. Instead of getting out of the car and answering my question, they drove away from me.

"Police officer!!" I shouted as I saw their car slowly moving away from me.

"Police officer!!" I shouted again, my eyes watering like a broken faucet.

I cried even more when I saw the second car pass by me, and a woman inside it was also crying while looking at me.

"Mother?" I asked in disbelief when I couldn't see her in the second car. I wanted to make sure it was her and that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

And when I realized that it was really her, the woman crying in the car, I couldn't help but scream, "Mother!!"

"Mother!!" I shouted again before running as fast as I could to catch up with the car she was in.

I ran and ran while tears continued to flow down my face, which made it hard for me to see clearly. I almost tripped because of my blurred vision, but I didn't care. At that moment, there was only one thing on my mind, and that was to catch up with the car that took my mother.

But I suddenly stopped when I felt my breath running out, which caused me to wheeze and have an asthma attack.