Chapter 78 Seventy Eight
OWEN WINTERS
Amy was covered in a warm blanket drinking soup. She sneezed, alarming me so I rushed to her side and patted her back. Only if I hadn't made her go under the rain, only if I didn't make out with her u Dee the freaking rain, she wouldn't be sitting on the couch, drinking soup and sneezing the life out of her.
The doctor assured she and the baby would be fine as long as she took her medications. I stroked her hair with my fingers hoping it eased her a little.
“You're treating me like a fucking baby, Owen,” she whined handing me the empty bowl of soup.
“I feel guilty, I made you go under the rain, now you have a cold,” I replied sincerely. I stroked her cheeks before standing to get more soup.
“I don't need more soup!” She shrieked, horror written all over her face. I had made her take two bowls already.
Amy was stubborn and that suited her so well. I eyed her lips and smirked evilly.
“Wipe that naughty grub on your face, will you? I'm sick and fucking sore,” she said sneezing again.
I felt a pang of guilt wash over me. I was too rough and she ended up getting ill. She sneezed as though it were an allergy and not cold. I leaned over and kissed the bridge of her nose.
“You'll be fine pumpkin, let me get some more…”
“No more soup!” She argued with finality written in her voice. I shrugged, slumping back on the couch next to her. “So what should I do to keep you entertained-” I blew out some strands of hair from my face, and continued, “I have talents, I sing gloriously, not to brag, u can wield a gun, archery, sex…” I groaned at the last word which made her grimace. “Sorry love. Suck and sore.”
I shrugged again. “But you can finally tell me about eleven years ago,” she suggested.
My face fell and my expression stoned, colour leaving my skin and my eyes darkened. I didn't want to talk about eleven years ago — not to her. Not to anybody.
Amy seemed to notice my expression because one glance at her face, I knew she wished she hadn't brought it up.
“Sorry…” she started to say but I cut her off.
“It's fine. Just promise me two things.”
“What's that?” She inquired, rubbing her thumb over her middle finger.
“First, you won't freak out, and second, let me make you feel good,” I laid my conditions feeling proud of myself. Amy punched my shoulders cursing in French. “God! I'm sick, asshole,” she hissed, her eyes swearing at me.
“And I'm obsessed.”
She rolled her eyes in submission and I grinned.
“Fine. Anything for you.”
ELEVEN YEARS BEFORE
Father reminded me for the tenth time before I left for Paris how I should take my life seriously and how staying away from Amelia Xavier was the wisest decision I made in my entire life. It was hard doing that, but when I turned sixteen and father sent me to boarding school, it became less taunting. That was where I met Lola. She was a little bit darker than I and had big brown eyes that bore holes into people, a huge frame and was eighteen.
I met her when I tried escaping class. She and her gang sat at the back of a building smoking weed. As her eyes met mine, I turned away and made to run, but her gang were faster. They caught me and threw me at her feet, I fell to the ground making a loud thud.
“Hey kid, what's your name?” She asked in that heavy voice that sent me thinking about my life and what I had done to myself.
I should've just gone to class.
“Owen. Owen Winters, you?” I asked, but it was already late when I realized my foolishness. Her gang members probably had a gun ready to blow my fucking brains off.
She laughed. I raised my head up in surprise, but quickly brought it down. Father said to stay low and here I was giving them so much information.
It felt exciting.
“Lola. And you said you're Owen Winters?” I nodded meekly, keeping my eyes on the dirt I knelt on. An ant crawled towards me, making its way to my knee, but it thought otherwise because it turned to another direction and crawled off.
“That name reminds me of that shady organization, Winters was it?”
She was smart so I nodded although I knew she meant it rhetorically.
“I'm his son,” I said and the gang laughed, mocking me with kicks.
Too much information.
I scolded myself but kept on giving as much information as possible.
“Are you?” I nodded before adding, “My dad loves his books, he and Dylan. Dylan Xavier.”
The gang went quiet and for once I felt proud of my identity. “You wanna hang out tonight? I'm throwing a party,” she said and I instinctively nodded.
Everything changed from then onwards, I attended that party, and I had sex with Lola, she was good but guilt gnawed at me.
“The Xavier house is divided in two, the former Xavier in which Dylan killed Lucian Xavier and married Kayla off to the Rodriguez,” I explained. She looked really invested in the story.
“Then what about the second one?” She asked. I shrugged.
“That's Dylan Xavier. He remarried after his wife died to Annie and has a daughter-” I paused for a moment, my heart ached so bad I felt faint, but I needed to keep talking. Amy. Amelia Xavier,” I finished taking another shot of red spirit.
“The way you say her name, you seem to like her. No, you like her.”
I shrugged again, taking two more shots. “She's probably eleven now. We don't talk anymore though. Father doesn't like that,” I replied, already feeling tipsy. I blinked to keep myself awake, but the wine was reaching my brains.
“You know, if you want something, it's better you take the risk to get it than to wallow in self pity. It's pathetic, trust me,” she said, smiling at me. I smiled back.
Having sex with Lola was supposed to be a one time thing, but it continued till she graduated. I missed her, but she died in a car accident a year later.
When I turned eighteen, mother's abuse kept on. She didn't physically torture me, but verbally. I knew I was orphaned at early age, I knew I was lucky father had adopted me and I fucking knew how unworthy I was.
The feeling took a toll on my mental health and I started smoking quite frequently than normal. Father eventually found out and sent me to military school, then to a therapist.
Miss Remi was good at what she did and I stopped smoking until I turned twenty.
“You should earn your place as a Winters, Owen,” father said. I didn't complain. I knew my place
The missions were sometimes simple tasks like sex till they spilled their secrets — it was mostly sex.
I remembered going to a casino and meeting a certain lady Lana.
“She's your target,” my mentor boomed in my ear through the ear pod.
I stared at her as she spoke with friends, her gown covering half of her body with crazy amounts of slits. She looked at me and I smirked.
“Mr Winters fancy seeing you here,” she said sitting beside me, hands on my shoulders and into my shirt.
“Yes, Lana, you look quite…” I eyed her and pressed a small smile on my lips “Inviting.”
One talk led to another and we fucked. We fucked till I pierced the knife into her stomach and covered her mouth so she died without screaming. It was a cause for celebration because by then I was promoted to killing people.
The first person I ever killed apart from Lady Lana was my close friend. He had stolen from the Xavier's and I traveled all the way just to kill him.
I begged father — I pleaded on my knees, but in that gruff voice, he said, “You shouldn't be attached to anybody, you'll kill them one way or the other.”
So I did. I murdered him in his sleep.
Before I left for Paris, I made a brief stop at Amy's school. She looked all grown and that messy bun suited her so well. I opened my mouth to call her attention, but thought otherwise. Father, of course, found out and punished me ( he had me step on hot coal for two hours and made me crawl to the garden; the ground was filled with gravel stones and the garden was a drive from the main house.)
The smoking started again and I met with Remi.
“I killed them. I'd end up killing everyone.” She was caring and soon I stopped smoking, but kept up with the murder and arson.
I turned twenty six and I was invited to that fucked up Erin ball party. My missions were over and father had announced that I was to be his heir. The party was rather boring and brought strange depressing memories, until I bumped into her — Amelia Xavier.
That woman whom I craved more than any lady I ever slept with was standing right in front of me.
Amy stared at me with eyes wide open. Her lips parted in an attempt to speak, but then she sneezed. I ran my fingers through her hair and she shut her mouth.
“Don't look at me like that, other crazy things happened, I just skipped them for your health,” I said pointing at her temple referring to her mental health.
“I'm sorry, Owen,” she finally found her voice and said. I shrugged.
“You promised not to freak out, pumpkin,” I teased, playing with the bridge of her nose.
“I'm not freaking out!” She snapped visibly shaken.
Maybe I should have kept a lot from her. I sighed and relaxed a little bit. Amelia Xavier didn't need to tell me about her life. I knew every detail because I followed her, watched her while she slept. Fucked myself when she moaned in her sleep. Hurt myself when she was in pain.
I was a fucking stalker and if she ever found out, she'd call me a freak.
An obsession with her was an understatement, I could grovel at her feet if she asked me to.
I smirked.
“Remember the second condition,” I cooed and she rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“English says it's tits for tats,” I humoured brushing my fingers across her breast. She laughed.
“That's not even what it means, dickhead!” she replied, slapping my shoulders. “We both know what I mean, yes?”
“I'm unwell, Owen.”
I grinned wickedly.
“Then let me make you feel better.”