Andrés de Fonollosa aka Berlin is known to be well... a psychopath and a narcissist. But what actually caused this man's hatred and hanger you will see...
Fun fact: the title of the story was inspired by the song Paralyzed by NF
Copyright to the pe...
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Two weeks later, Martín drove up to the entrance of the monastery, glancing at the address Andrés had given him. It was the right place, but he still felt uncertain. He got out of the car and approached the door. Before he could even knock, Andrés swung it open.
"I was wondering if you were going to come," Andrés said with a smirk. "Didn't think it would take you this long to find the place. Come in!"
Martín stepped inside, following Andrés through a dimly lit hallway. A few minutes later, they entered a vast open room. Martín couldn't believe his eyes; the space was packed with antique artifacts and works of art. There was even a suit of knight's armor on a mannequin that made him feel a bit uneasy. If he didn't focus on it, everything seemed fine, but the sheer volume of items almost made him trip over a stack of boxes.
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"So, why did you decide to move here? For the art, I suppose?" Martín asked.
Andrés chuckled. "Close. I liked the location—far from everything. It's very peaceful, and I don't get distracted by other people when I'm planning a heist."
"Well, anyway, you have a lot of junk in here. Didn't you want to clean the place before mov—"
Before Martín could finish his sentence, Andrés pressed him against the wall. "Don't you ever say that again! Oh, and just so you know, this 'junk' is all the stuff I've stolen since I began my criminal life."
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend you," Martín stammered.
Andrés released him and stepped back. "Don't make me regret inviting you here." He walked away and grabbed a glass along with a bottle of wine. Turning back to Martín, he asked, "Want some?"
"No, thanks. If I may ask, who is that in the picture?" Martín pointed to a photo on the dresser. Andrés sighed.
"That was my first girlfriend, Alicia. She was the most amazing woman I've ever met. We were best friends when we were kids..."
"Why did you break up?" Martín inquired, curiosity piqued.
"I couldn't risk hurting her..." Andrés lowered his gaze, trying to hold back tears. He took a deep breath. "She told me she didn't want me to leave her, but I explained that I had to. We mutually accepted the fact that we wouldn't see each other again—for her safety."
