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.

I have asthma, but it did not stop me from pursuing my job. In fact, I have two jobs - one in the morning and another at night after my classes.

While others focus on preparing for school as soon as they wake up, I prepare for work. And while others rest and do school assignments at night, I work at a fast food chain.

I know, I know that what I am doing can make me sick, especially with my asthma. But I don't have a choice. How can I provide for my daily needs if I don't work? How can I study if I don't work hard? How can we survive in this world if I don't work hard? I am the only one providing for my grandmother and myself, and I have to work doubly hard, especially since my grandmother needs maintenance medication. I work so hard that I sometimes forget to take care of myself.

Life is so cruel to me. Those are the only words I can describe my life. Life or destiny is so cruel to me that at a young age, I already have to work hard. This made me think about how it feels to be a normal student.

I wonder what it feels like to be a normal student? The kind where you only wake up in the morning to prepare for class, and you don't have anything else to worry about. The kind where your only focus is studying in school and not work that's waiting for you. The kind where your only concern at night is your school assignments and not your job.

I want to feel all of those. I want to know how it feels to be a normal student. I also want to experience the things that normal students experience.

As I touched my face, I realized that I was crying. I didn't even notice that tears were already flowing down my face because I was so deep in thought.

I quickly got up from my bed and realized that I was already late. Damn! It's too early, but my mind is already preoccupied with many things, which is why I lost track of time.

I quickly went downstairs to eat, and I didn't expect to be so delighted by the sight before me. It was a view that I could never get tired of looking at, where my grandmother was in the kitchen, busy with cooking while facing away from me.

To be honest, I am closer to my grandmother than my mother. I don't know why, but maybe it's because she was the one who was beside me as I grew up.

"Grandma, it smells so good," I complimented her as I smelled the aroma of her cooking.

I approached her from behind and hugged her, but she turned to me and asked, "Who are you?"

I was taken aback by her question and let go of her. I couldn't help but smile, "What's wrong with you, self? Haven't you gotten used to this by now?"

I cleared my throat to relieve the lump in it and said, "Grandma, don't you remember your most beautiful grandchild?" I tried to sound happy as I spoke, "It's me, Marra, your most beautiful grandchild."

After saying those words, I hugged her again and wiped my teary eyes discreetly.

Whenever she forgets me, I can't help but cry. It hurts me to know that the grandmother I love the most forgets about me.

She has Alzheimer's disease, which makes her forget things and people who are important to her. She was diagnosed with this disease two years ago, and she hasn't recovered from it yet.

She let go of my hand after I hugged her and looked at me with her sparkling eyes as if she was trying to see if I was telling the truth. I smiled at her to show her that I was confident with what I said.

However, my smile disappeared after a few minutes when she still didn't recognize me. I was about to tell her to forget about my presence and what I said, but I stopped when I saw a smile appear on her face. She then approached me and hugged me, "You are my grandchild."

I smiled when I heard what she said, but my smile disappeared when I heard the words she added to her previous statements. "Why are you only coming now? Where have you been and why are you coming home so late?"

I secretly winced at her words, but I was happy that she still remembered me, which means that the medicines I bought for him are working somehow.

I answered her question with a kiss on his cheek and didn't bother to answer her question because I know that no matter how many times I answer it, she will keep asking because he forgets easily. That's just how he is.

"Look at this young one, he didn't even answer me," I heard him grumble when she saw me turn around to get the plates and utensils.

I ignored what she said and put the plates and utensils on the table. This seemed to be a signal for her to start serving the food he cooked.

I couldn't help but smile when I smelled the aroma of the vegetable stew he cooked. My grandmother may be forgetful, but when it comes to cooking, I don't doubt her skills and her memory of the ingredients needed.

The only things I could hear while we were eating were my grandmother's sermon about coming home late and the clinking of the utensils. I remained quiet while listening to her sermon, smiling because I find her amusing. I'm glad that she still cares about her beautiful grandchild.

But my smile disappeared when I remembered the time.

"Shit!" I exclaimed before hurriedly finishing my meal. After eating, I quickly put my dishes in the sink and rushed upstairs to prepare my things and change my clothes.

When I finished getting ready, I went back downstairs to bid my grandmother goodbye. She was busy washing the dishes, so I told her that I was leaving for school, when in reality, I was going to work. She didn't know that I had a job, so I didn't bother telling her, especially since she might not allow me to work because of my asthma.

Whenever she asked me where I got the money to support the two of us, I would tell her that it came from my foreigner friend, so I always got scolded. I said those words to change the subject, but unfortunately, she always repeats the same question, so I am forced to lie.

I am telling her that the money comes from my mother and she believes it by the grace of God. What she knows is that my mother went abroad, so we can no longer be together, and because of that, she believes me every time I tell her that the money I am spending is from my mother, but little did she know, it was from me, from my work. But little did she know, my mother is in jail because of a sin she did not commit.

They accused her, and we cannot do anything about it because of our status in life, and it is the sad reality that we must accept, the reality where those who have power have the privilege in life.

"Aling Bebang, can you please look after grandma again?" I asked Aling Bebang as soon as I left our house. "I'm leaving now," I added.

She stopped what she was doing, watering the plants, and turned to me, "Sure, my dear, I'll take care of her," she answered my question, which made me smile.

"Yes! Thank you, Aling Bebang, you're the best," I said with a big smile, overwhelmed with happiness.

Since then, Auntie Bebang became my go-to person whenever I needed someone to look after my grandmother whenever I had to leave for work or school, and she never failed to do me that favor. What's worse is that she even did it for free, which made me feel ashamed to ask for her help.

I admit, I feel embarrassed every time I entrust my grandmother to her, but I have no choice because she's the only person I know who can take care of her. Sometimes, I even thought of giving her two thousand pesos every month, as a way to repay her kindness to my grandmother and me. But she never accepted the money, instead, she told me to use it for my food and tuition.

Every time I asked her why she was so kind to us, she would simply say that there would come a time when I would need her help, but for now, she would help me. All she asked was that I not forget her once I achieve my dreams.

Those words stuck with me every time she spoke them. For me, she was one of the people who believed in my abilities, and because of that, I needed to treasure her and her words.

I stopped thinking as soon as I reached the eatery where I would work. Deep in thought, I hadn't realized I had arrived at my destination. This eatery was just a short walk from my house, which I was grateful for because it saved me money. Instead of spending it on jeepney fare, I saved it.

I took a deep breath before preparing myself for whatever awaited me as soon as I stepped inside the eatery.

"Why are you only coming now?!" someone angrily asked as soon as my foot stepped on the eatery's doorstep, causing me to stop in my tracks.

I looked at the person who spoke those words, feeling uncertain. I swallowed hard as soon as I saw the sharpness of their gaze.

I'm doomed.

The students who were eating in the canteen stopped because of the echoing question. I swallowed hard and felt how their attention was fixated on me. At that moment, I felt extreme embarrassment that I never thought I would experience in my life. It was so intense that I would rather disappear like a bubble than stay in my current position.

I released an awkward smile to hide my embarrassment from Madam's expression. I saw her raise an eyebrow because of my smile, as if she wasn't pleased with my action.

Then, she gestured to me, inviting me to approach her. Although I was scared of what she might do to me, I forced myself to step closer, so as not to increase her anger towards me.

I knew she would be more furious if I didn't follow her command. So, even though I was afraid of what she could do, I still approached her with my head bowed to conceal my embarrassment.

I felt the stares following me with every step I took, and I didn't have to lift my head to know who they were from. They were our customers who happened to be my schoolmates. Yes, they were my schoolmates, and we came from the same university. It's not surprising that students eat here since it's right in front of our campus.

I couldn't help but cringe when Madam pinched my ear so hard when I got close to her, which made them gasp. Maybe she realized that the attention of the customers was on us, and she forcibly dragged me into the kitchen of the canteen while still holding my ear, causing it to turn red.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to be late? Because you are badly needed here!" she angrily asked me as soon as we entered the kitchen. As she spoke those words, I felt her grip on my ear tighten, causing me to wince in pain.

"Ouch!"

She must have realized my pain since she immediately let go of my ear.

My eyelids were tingling, and I rubbed my ear gently to relieve the pain. I could feel the heat from the pinch, which was the result of her action.

"So, why were you late?" she asked.

I looked up at her and saw her with a smirk, raising one eyebrow and staring at me.

"I was late because I slept late last night. I was studying for our exam today," I answered her question while bowing my head.

I saw her eyes and shoulders droop because of my answer.

"Is that so?" I could feel the pity in her voice this time.

I stood up as a response to what she said. I heard her let out a sigh and say, "Okay, wash the piled up dishes in the sink so you can study again." Her kindness and helpfulness are some of the reasons why I am still working at her eatery until now, despite having many reasons to leave the job. One of those reasons is her strictness, but I understand her because I know she only thinks about the welfare of her eatery and her employees, which ultimately benefits us all. Plus, she only becomes strict with lazy workers like me.

I hugged her, feeling her stand up straight, probably surprised by my gesture. "Thank you," I said internally, grateful to her and her family for still being understanding and willing to help me despite my mistakes.

I let go of her embrace, hung my bag on the hooks, and put on my apron to avoid getting my uniform dirty or wet. It's difficult since I only have two uniforms, and I just washed one last night. So every time I take it off, I have to wash it again to have something to wear. Also, I need to wear an apron, especially since my uniform is white and it's hard to remove stains and dirt.

I approached the sink and sighed at the sight of the piled up dishes that I had to wash. It's not new to me since washing dishes is my daily task here, but I still get surprised every time I see them. I don't know why, maybe because I never imagined myself washing dishes at home. Even though my grandma is already old, she still does the household chores to help me, which worries me because she might get hurt.

I want to stop her, but I can't, especially since I know I also need her help.

"Hi Ate Elen," I greeted Ate Elen as I saw her enter the kitchen.

She greeted me back before asking if Ma'am did anything bad to me aside from pinching my ear.

"No, Ate Elen," I replied to her question.

"That's good to hear, dear," she said before approaching the stove to start cooking.

Ate Elen is our cook here in the canteen, while I am the one in charge of washing dishes. Actually, there are four of us working here: Ate Elen as the cook, me as the dishwasher, and Mark and Jason as the servers. Meanwhile, Madam is in charge of the cash register.

After I finished washing the dishes, I quickly wiped my wet hands on the apron I was wearing. Then, I took it off and hung it up. Since I still had some time before my first class, I took out my books and started studying for our exam later. I didn't even notice how time flew by. Good thing Madam came up to me and gave me my salary for the day, which I would use for my allowance.

"Thank you, Madam," I smiled gratefully at her as I received my salary for that day.

She smiled and said, "You're welcome. Now, put your notebooks and books in your bag so you can leave. It's not good to be late, especially since you have an exam today." I followed her advice and quickly put my notebooks and books in my bag so I could leave for school.

After I finished packing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood up from my seat. I bowed my head and said, "Thank you again," while still looking down.

Then, I looked up again and turned around to leave, but I didn't go far when I heard words that I didn't expect would soften my heart. "You're welcome again, dear, and I'm sorry for what I did," she said.

See? I told you that even though she can be tough, she still has a kind side. In this world, there are two types of bad people: one who became bad because of something you did that made them angry, and the other who was just born bad.

And in her case, she become bad because of me.

I smiled as I looked at her and said, "It's okay, it's my fault why you treated me that way." After saying those words, I turned around and opened the door in front of me. I didn't wait for her to say anything else because I knew that if I did, our conversation would just drag on, which could make me late for my exam.

As soon as I stepped out of the kitchen, I noticed the worried looks from the people around me, who were probably the reason why I bowed my head and hurriedly walked out of the cafeteria.

I thought they had already left since they finished eating, so I felt relieved when I walked out thinking they were gone. But maybe only those who had classes left, as some were still there even though they had finished eating, as if they chose to stay there.

I could only breathe properly once I got out of the cafeteria. I released a deep sigh of relief. I didn't expect that it could be so uncomfortable when all the attention was focused on you. It was suffocating, making me hesitate before taking a breath, as they might follow me with their gaze.

I approached the pedestrian lane to cross the street, and when I saw that there were no cars coming from both sides, I began to cross. But little did I know, there was a speeding motorcycle coming towards me, which made me freeze. Before I could say anything, I heard the deafening honk from the motorcycle, accompanied by the grating voice of the owner of the motorcycle.