The Twisted Obsession
Chapter 72: Memories

Chapter 72: Memories

As they sat in the quiet aftermath of his revelation, the city lights shimmering below, Abby wished she could alleviate the pain etched in Remo’s eyes.

Remo’s voice trembled as he recounted the harrowing tale of his mother’s tragic demise. With a heavy heart, he delved into the painful memories that haunted him still.

"We were at the amusement park, my little sister and I," Remo began, his voice strained with emotion. "She wandered off, as kids do, and when we realized she was missing, panic set in."

Abby listened intently, her heart aching at the weight of his words.

"We searched frantically for her, calling out her name," Remo continued, his voice choking with sorrow. "And then... then someone fired a shot. A single moment of senseless violence shattered our world."

His mother’s face flashed before his eyes, her gentle smile etched in his memory. "She was hit," Remo whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "In that chaos, I held her in my arms as she bled, her life slipping away before my eyes."

Tears welled in Abby’s eyes as she imagined the unimaginable pain Remo endured, the trauma etched into every fiber of his being.

"I should have done more," Remo murmured, his voice filled with anguish. "I should have protected her, saved her. But I was helpless, Abby. Helpless to stop the violence that tore her away from me.Her blood stained my hands, and in that moment, I felt like I failed her. I should have done more to protect her."

Tears welled up in Abby’s eyes as she listened to the heart-wrenching tale. The vulnerability in Remo’s voice laid bare the wounds that time couldn’t fully heal. The haunting echoes of that tragic day still reverberated within him, a constant reminder of a loss that left an indelible mark on his soul.

Remo’s voice trembled as he recounted the years that followed his mother’s death. "Growing up without her was... unbearable," he admitted, his words laced with the ache of longing. "Every time I looked at my sister, I saw my mom, and it was too painful to bear. I pushed her away, became cold."

Abby listened intently, her heart aching for the young Remo and the burden he carried.

"But she never gave up on me," Remo continued, a flicker of warmth softening his gaze. "She followed me everywhere, determined to break through my walls. And eventually, she did."

A small smile tugged at Remo’s lips as he spoke of his sister’s unwavering love. "She showed me that love endures, even in the darkest of times."

Abby’s eyes shimmered with understanding as she remarked, "You love her so much."

Remo nodded, the weight of his affection evident in his gaze. "Yes, I do. She’s my anchor, my light in the darkness."

His expression softened as he spoke of Izabella, his voice infused with a bittersweet nostalgia. "And then I met Izabella," he recounted, a glimmer of warmth dancing in his eyes. "She brought light back into my life, helped me heal."

A fleeting sense of happiness washed over Remo’s features as he recalled the moments of joy they shared. "For a while, I was happy again," he confessed, the memory tinged with a profound sense of loss.

"But then..." Remo’s voice faltered, the pain of her absence palpable in the air. "I lost her too."

Abby’s voice trembled slightly as she asked Remo about Izabella’s death, her heart heavy with unspoken fears. "How did Izabella die?"

Remo’s demeanor shifted subtly, a shadow passing over his features as if he were hiding something deep within. His eyes darted away for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his expression. "I don’t know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with confusion. "That’s the weird thing. I can’t remember anything about her death, just the memories we had together."

Abby’s suspicions grew, a knot of unease tightening in her chest at Remo’s evasive response. His reluctance to delve into the details of Izabella’s death only fueled her curiosity further.

"My brother, Matteo, told me she was dead," Remo continued, his words tinged with a sense of detachment, as if he were recounting a distant memory. "He took me to see the body. I just remember holding her lifeless form and crying in the morgue. But everything else is just blank."

A sense of confusion and bewilderment hung in the air, Remo’s own emotions mirroring the tangled web of uncertainty that surrounded Izabella’s death. Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story than Remo was letting on, a lingering sense of doubt gnawing at her insides.

Abby’s voice quivered slightly as she pressed Remo further, her words laced with concern and disbelief. "But why didn’t you investigate what happened to Izabella?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of accusation.

Remo’s eyes met hers, a veil of sorrow shrouding his gaze as he struggled to find the words to explain. "I was too broken," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "I couldn’t bring myself to think or do anything. It’s not like it could bring her back."

Abby’s heart sank at the depth of Remo’s despair, her own emotions mirrored in the half-empty glass clutched tightly in her hand. The amber liquid offered a temporary solace, a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of their shared pain.

"I was awful," Remo confessed, his voice tinged with self-loathing. "Drinking, doing drugs... I even tried to kill myself." Abby’s eyes widened in shock at his revelation, the glass slipping from her trembling fingers as she struggled to comprehend the depth of his suffering.

His words hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the dimly lit room as Remo continued to unravel the darkest Chapters of his past. "My brother found me, overdosed and lying in a bathtub," he confessed, the weight of his confession bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "He took me to a therapist, tried to help me get back on my feet."