Chapter 10 Arlo's pov

I grew up in a household that was supposed to be loving and nurturing, but it was anything but that. My father was cold, calculating, and cruel. He made me feel like I was nothing like I was a mere inconvenience in his perfect life

I remember the first time my father belittled me. I must have been only five or six years old. I had spilled a glass of juice on the floor, and he had screamed at me, calling me careless and stupid. My mother had just stood there, watching, not saying a word.

As I grew older, the verbal abuse escalated. He would criticize me for everything, from my grades to my appearance. They made me feel like I was worthless like I would never amount to anything. My mother never did anything to defend me she just watched and I hated her.

But it wasn't just the verbal abuse that scarred me. It was the physical abuse, too. My father would hit me for the smallest infractions, and my mother would just stand by, watching, not saying a word.

I learned to cope with the abuse by withdrawing into myself. I would spend hours locked in my room, trying to escape the hell that was my life. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the feeling of worthlessness that my parents had instilled in me.

It was during this time that I first laid eyes on Amelia. She was a few years younger than me, with big brown eyes and curly brown hair. She was the daughter of our next-door neighbors, and I would often see her playing in their yard.

There was something about Amelia that drew me in. Maybe it was her innocence, her purity. Maybe it was the way she smiled at me like I was the only person in the world.

Whatever it was, I was hooked. I started watching her every day, following her on her walks, spying on her through her window. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself.

As the years went by, my obsession with Amelia only grew stronger. I would do anything to be near her, to touch her, to make her mine.

When Amelia's parents died. I remembered the feeling of excitement that coursed through my veins when I heard the news. It was as if I had been waiting for this moment my entire life.

My father, the man who had abused me for so long, was killed in an accident a few years after Amelia arrived to live with us. I didn't shed a tear when I heard the news. I felt a sense of relief, of freedom. The man who had made my childhood a living hell was finally gone.

But as I looked at Amelia, I knew that I was doomed to repeat the cycle of abuse that had been passed down to me. I was doomed to hurt her, to make her suffer, just as I had suffered at the hands of my father.

And now, as I sit across from her in this crowded cafe, I can feel my obsession burning brighter than ever. I know it's wrong, but I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes to make Amelia mine.

As I sat across from Amelia, I couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership. I had watched her grow up and had been a part of her life for as long as I could remember.

I remembered the way she used to look up at me with wide, adoring eyes. The way she used to smile at me like I was the only person in the world. And I remembered the way I used to touch her, to hold her, to make her mine.

But she didn't remember any of it. I had made sure of that. I had wiped her memory clean and erased all traces of our past together.

And now, as we sat together in this crowded cafe, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Why had I done it? Why had I taken away her memories of me?

I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the present. I needed to make Amelia trust me again. I would wait for her to open up to me, to let me back into her life.

And when she did, I would be ready. I would take her back, make her mine once again. And this time, I wouldn't let her go.

As I gazed into Amelia's eyes, I felt a rush of emotions that I couldn't quite explain. It was as if I was transported back to my childhood, to the days when I would watch her play in her yard, dreaming of a life where I was worthy of her love.

But that was just a fantasy. In reality, I was a monster, a creature driven by my twisted desires. And Amelia was my obsession, my fixation, my reason for being.

"So, Amelia,"

I said, my voice low and husky.

"Tell me about yourself. What have you been up to?"

Amelia hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at me. I could tell she was wary of me, that she didn't quite trust me. But I didn't care. I was used to people being afraid of me.

"I've been busy with life,"

She said finally, her voice firm.

"Everything is complicated, you know my bookstore and all."

I nodded, my eyes never leaving hers.

"Yes, I know. I've visited sometime but you weren't there."

Amelia's eyes widened slightly, and I could tell she was surprised. "Really?" she asked, her voice a little softer.

I nodded again, my smile growing wider.

"Yes. But I could see you are handling it just fine"

Amelia blushed, looking away for a moment. I could tell she was pleased, that she was happy to have someone appreciate her work.

But I wasn't just anyone. I was Arlo, the monster who had been obsessed with her for years. And I would stop at nothing to make her mine.