The Twisted Obsession
Chapter 73: Drunk confessions

Chapter 73: Drunk confessions

Abby’s heart ached at the sheer magnitude of Remo’s pain, the scars of his past etched into every word he spoke. And yet, amidst the darkness, there flickered a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption and healing.

"I started getting into the mafia business," Remo continued, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and resignation. "Started killing... and I realized I liked it. The thrill it gave me, it numbed the pain for a while."

Abby recoiled at the revelation, her eyes widening in disbelief at the stark admission. The weight of Remo’s words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their fragile bond.

But as Remo spoke of his journey towards sobriety and redemption, Abby found herself clinging to the flicker of hope that burned within him. "And when I finally sobered up, and I was about to investigate..." Remo’s voice faltered, his words trailing off as a shadow of uncertainty crossed his features.

"My brother told me he had already done it," Remo confessed, his voice tinged with resignation. "It was a hit and run case. Someone had been drunk and hit Izabella... It wasn’t anything."

The revelation landed like a heavy blow, the truth cutting through the veil of lies and deceit that had clouded Remo’s past. Izabella, the love of his life, his first love, had been taken from him in a senseless act of violence.

As they sat in the quiet aftermath of Remo’s confession, the weight of their shared sorrow hung heavy in the air. Abby’s heart ached for the man before her, a soul haunted by the ghosts of his past, seeking solace amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams.

Abby’s hand trembled slightly as she poured herself another glass of whiskey, the amber liquid shimmering in the dim light of the room. The question that lingered on her lips felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, but she couldn’t shake the need to ask it.

"If you had four weeks to spend with the people you’ve lost, what would you do?" The words spilled from her lips, the inquiry tinged with a sense of desperation and longing that she couldn’t quite explain. It was a heartless question, she knew, but the alcohol seemed to dull the edges of her inhibitions, leaving her vulnerable and raw.

Remo turned to look at her, his gaze soft and tender despite the weight of his own sorrow. "I would make more beautiful memories with them," he replied, his voice tinged with quiet resolve. "I wouldn’t waste a single moment crying or dwelling on what could have been. I would simply cherish the time left with them, savoring every precious second."

Abby’s eyes welled with tears at his words, the raw emotion bubbling to the surface like a floodgate unleashed. She felt the weight of her own grief bearing down on her, the fear and uncertainty threatening to engulf her in its suffocating embrace.

"And what about my father?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper in the stillness of the night. "He’s all I have left... I don’t know what I would do if I lost him."

Her heart ached with the weight of her own fears, the memories of her mother fading like distant echoes in the recesses of her mind. But her father... he had always been there for her, a steady presence in the tumultuous storms of her life.

"He’s always been there for me," Abby murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "Despite everything... despite the bullying, the hardships... he was always there, a rock amidst the chaos.

"He used to call me his little meteorite," Abby whispered through her tears, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "Because, he said, no matter how many times I fell, I’d always light up the sky again. He’s the reason I made it through those tough times."

Remo’s arms enveloped Abby in a comforting embrace, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of her emotions. "You’re not alone, Abby. You have me, and my family would love you too," he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper against the tumult of her thoughts.

Abby’s laughter rang hollow in the quiet of the night, a bitter echo of her inner turmoil. "For how long, a year? None of this is real anyway," she remarked bitterly, her fingers curling around the neck of the whiskey bottle as she lifted the bottle to her lips and gulping down its bitter contents.

"It doesn’t have to be a year. After all of this, I will be there for you. You will not be alone," Remo reassured her, his words a steadfast vow of companionship and support.

Abby’s gaze bore into his, her eyes a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "As a friend? Or what?" she snapped bitterly, the hurt in her words palpable.

"You want to keep me around knowing full well you will never love me.Your heart will always be with Izabella. Why can’t you love me too? Am I so unlovable?" she demanded, the pain of her words laced with a bitter edge of self-doubt and insecurity.

"Abby..." Remo’s voice trailed off, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He reached out to her, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance, but Abby pushed him away, her resolve unyielding as she stood before him, the whiskey bottle a silent witness to her inner turmoil.

Remo’s heart clenched at Abby’s raw vulnerability, her words cutting through the air like a knife. He watched as she grappled with her emotions, her pain laid bare for him to see. In that moment, he realized the depth of her turmoil, the longing for love and acceptance echoing in her voice.

"I like you a lot. Or maybe I love you? I have never been in love before... I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel," she confessed, her voice trembling with uncertainty and fear. "Tell me, Remo, how do you know you love someone?"