My Severe Brother

ch 14: I became a beast

Peter's pov

David chased after me, his grip firm on my arm. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"What? He deserved it," I chuckled, a bitter undertone in my voice.

"He wasn't going to do anything with her; you ruined the plan. He was trying to negotiate a deal, and now he's lost it," David explained.

"I don't care," I huffed, my frustration evident.

Suddenly, a harsh pull yanked me backward. "Let's go home," Cole seethed angrily, dragging me toward the car.

"Marco, I'll take you. You're drunk. Just let me—" Dave attempted to intervene.

"Shut the hell up, Dave," Cole snapped, pushing me into the car. His face was a storm of rage.

He was so drunk. I was frightened that he was going to hit me which is obviously would happen.

As we arrived home, he continued to manhandle me, throwing me onto my bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I stammered, immediately shuffling away from him. "Please calm down."

My breath quickened, and I used every muscle in my body to stifle a whimper.

He slapped me, the force made me fall onto the bed. Grabbing the hem of my shirt, he pulled me closer. "Here's what's going to happen. You're gonna bend over the bed, and I'm gonna give you 50 swats with my belt," he announced, scanning my face. "Aw, why are you shaking? I'm not even done."

Part of me wanted to run, but I knew it wouldn't help. My heart throbbed in my ears, and my mind was clouded with fear.

"50 swats, then I'm gonna strip you and give you another 25. All with the belt because you deserve it, you little shit."

His frustration took control, and I was scared. I heard him unbuckle his belt.

"No, I won't let you spank me when you're drunk," I tried to push him away.

"Bend over the bed by yourself or I'll make you," he ordered firmly.

I tried my best to convince him not to but no he wan't ready to reason with me. He pushed me to the bed. I heard the ominous sound of his belt folding and I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to disappear so bad but this was inevitable. He is ruthless.

He placed a hand on my back, keeping me in place, and began the assault. Tears spilled, and I felt so weak, struggling and crying within the first five hits. He continued mercilessly, each strike intensifying the pain.

I clenched the bed sheets tightly in my fists. "Let go of the sheet," he demanded.

What's his problem?

Marco's pov

My internal fury swelled, consuming me with each passing moment. I vowed to make him regret every ounce of pain he caused.

"This is abuse!" he yelled, his voice a desperate plea.

"Yes, and you can go tell the police," I retorted, my words laced with an unyielding determination.

Forcing him over the bed, I unleashed a barrage of blows with my belt—WHIP, WHIP, WHIP.

"I'm sorry, please. I didn't know it was for an affair. I'm sorry," he pleaded, his voice tinged with regret.

"Don't play with my affairs, you little shit. And you're not sorry enough." I steeled my resolve, committed to whipping him until the numbness set in.

WHIP WHIP WHIP

"P-Please, ow... Ouch, sorry... Sir... Please... I can go and tell her that I was just angry with you and I said that... Ow," he winced, struggling to articulate his words through the pain.

His sobs continued until they gradually ceased, and he weakly called my name, "C-Cole."

Yet, I paid no heed to his pleas, continuing my assault without counting the blows, only stopping when my own arm ached.

Grabbing his hair, I threatened, "Die, or I'll give you more."

To my surprise, he didn't flinch. His pure face, filled with tears, bore the aftermath of my brutality, his eyes tightly shut. Even as I shook him, he remained unresponsive.

Panicking, I reached for my phone and dialed Levio.

What have I done? Goodness!

Did he die?

An hour passed as I sipped my third cup of coffee to shake off the lingering daze. Levio emerged from his room, his face contracted with anger. He scolded me, "How could you do that? How did you knock him out? Why this cruelty? I can't believe you, Marco. You know he is fragile, dealing with malnutrition, self-harm, and in a bad state, and yet you did that?"

"I know." I rubbed my hand down my face, a futile attempt to erase the guilt etched across my features. "I was drunk, I couldn't control it, I was too mad to see colors. He made me lose a big deal; I didn't mean to hurt him that much."

"Really? His skin is black and blue, covered with bruises. You didn't let him have one peaceful single day. You hit him without showing him a little bit of mercy. If you don't want him, I'll take him to live with me. I'll treat him like Miles. Or give him to Dave or Sofia, or even send him back to the Blackstone, because, as I see, they were more merciful to him than you," he scolded, his voice gradually escalating.

His words were like a knife, splitting me apart, the pain leaving me bleeding. I really didn't mean to hurt him. I— I regret it.

I put my face into my hands. I looked up at him, defeated, "Okay, fine. When he wakes up, take him with you. I know he would prefer not to see me for a while."

It's the best for both of us!

"I don't want him to be around you either," he said firmly.

Levio went to the hospital. I sat on the chair in Peter's room, looking at him, waiting for him to wake up.

I became a beast! A cold beast! One of the worst!

Exhausted, I succumbed to sleep, my internal battle still raging within me.

The next morning™

I awoke abruptly, my ears tuned to the soft wince emanating from Peter. Throughout the night, I had lingered over his bed, unable to sleep due to the relentless onslaught of overthinking.

He's awake! Thank God!

I attempted a reassuring smile, fully aware that any comfort I offered might fall short. "Good morning."

Ignoring my greeting, he tried to rise from the bed.

"Let me help you," I offered, reaching out to hold his hand.

"Let go," he retorted, pushing me away. "Are you satisfied now?"

"I didn't mean to. Levio is coming to take you with him," I explained.

"Better than staying with you," he answered.

"I know," I sighed. "You want breakfast?" I asked, attempting to maintain a calm demeanor.

"I don't want anything from you," he snapped, glaring.

Nodding, I left his room. I called Levio, who arrived promptly to take Peter with him. I hoped beyond hope that he would find solace and recovery. My thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, and I struggled to think straight.

To be continued...