Chapter 750
Chapter 750:
He seemed a phantom lurking in the shadows, nursing his wounds in solitude, unable to endure even a sliver of light. Any illumination seemed to threaten his meticulously crafted guise, poised to unveil all he desperately concealed.
Fernanda let the curtains fall shut, leaving just a crack for air.
She took Neal’s arm, guiding him gently to lie down on the bed.
Suddenly, Neal clung to Fernanda, his embrace tight. As Fernanda stepped forward, her foot hit a slick beer bottle, and she stumbled onto Neal.
She tried to rise, but Neal’s grip tightened, anchoring her in place.
“Don’t, don’t leave me…” Neal’s voice was labored, his breathing heavy. “Stay… please stay…”
“Neal.” Fernanda spoke with measured calm. “It’s Fernanda.”
He kept his eyes shut, nodding faintly. “Yeah, I know.”
Fernanda continued, “I just came to see how you were doing. I’m glad you’re alright. Everyone’s concerned. When you can, let them know you’re safe.” Neal remained silent.
“Listen, no one’s going to fuss about those old stories,” Fernanda began. “Winning that championship is a big deal; everyone will celebrate you for it. As for your dad, he…”
“He’s not my dad!” Neal’s eyes snapped open, his voice booming. “That man doesn’t deserve the title!”
Fernanda settled beside his bed, her gaze steady. “Right, he doesn’t. So don’t throw yourself away because of him.”
Neal’s head pounded fiercely. He strained not to think; thinking only magnified the pain. Yesterday’s events, along with everything that had unfolded over the past decade, rushed into his mind like a tidal wave, almost making his head implode.
The harder he tried to push it away, the sharper and more vivid the past became.
The taunts of his peers from childhood, the endless shouting between his parents, their harsh scoldings and beatings—all of it resurfaced in his mind, vivid and razor-sharp.
𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞: 𝕘Ɐ𝕝𝕟𝕠ν𝕖𝕝𝕤﹒ⅽ𝕠𝕞
And then, just yesterday, as he stood basking in the glow of victory and the crowd’s adoration, he believed he had outrun those shadowed days, that he was on the path to rightful glory and acceptance.
But then, that devil had shown up—humiliatingly, disgracefully shattering Neal’s moment of triumph.
Why?! Why must he endure this?
Even a budding love had been snatched away in the fallout.
Why must fate be so merciless?!
Neal had been wrestling with this question throughout the previous night, sipping and pondering until he had drained every last bottle, yet still, no answer emerged.
“I remember it all started back in elementary school.” Neal’s voice was rough. “I can’t pin down the exact moment. But it was around the time the other kids began shunning me because their parents warned them my father was no good, and they should steer clear of me. After that, friendships became a foreign concept to me.”
.
.
.