Loving Levi Greene

Chapter 11: Worthy

Hey guys! Trigger warnings: abuse, SA, child abuse, adult rape, and profanity in this chapter.

This chapter describes a dark scene from Levi's childhood. I wanted to describe it in detail, giving us a better understanding of why he is the way he is.

Thanks for reading this far!

******Levi's POV******

Amelia and I are standing awkwardly in the foyer of the home that belongs to one of the few men that I have absolutely no tolerance for.

I didn't even realize that this was who's house we were going to. There are so many Smith families in this town and I don't remember John's home being this one. They must have moved.

John Smith is involved in some terrible business. This business hurts people.

And more often than not, it's a business that can even get you killed.

It can get her killed.

John Smith is an excellent actor, perfect at concealing his twisted mind and actions.

John Smith is the right hand man to the most dangerous man I've ever met.

My father.

Many other bad people are involved, there's a web of connections to other criminals, each one more malicious and menacing than the last.

Years and years of dealing drugs and other illegal substances have turned my father into a horrible, unfeeling person. He is overcome in greed and power. He is cold towards everyone he encounters, barely offering any eye contact.

As if everyone is so much lesser than he himself, that no one is deemed worthy enough of a passing glance. He stops at nothing to get what he wants.

Whether that be drugs, money, sex, or information. He's killed, cheated, and lied to get where he is today.

I've actually seen him kill someone for looking at him a certain way.

But truth be told, these aren't even the things I hate most about him. No.

The worst thing about him is his relentless abuse to my mother.

The first unfortunate event that I witnessed- happened when I was no older than 9.

This is the day that I stopped feeling like a child. The day I decided I had to grow up in order to survive.

*******

It was late. I was in my bed, tucked in tight by mother. She sang sweet melodies that floated above me, distracting me until I drifted into peaceful slumber.

Hours later, I woke up to what sounded like screaming.

It was the kind of blood-curdling scream that could only be produced from sheer panic or pain.

Or both.

I jumped up from my bed, dazed and confused. I looked around my room, wondering which direction the scream had come from. I heard shuffling and muffled crying coming from the opposite end of the house.

I decided it was time to investigate.

I carefully creeped down the wide hallway, thinking of all of the possible scenarios in my head. Maybe someone had broken in to my parents bedroom and was robbing us.

Worry filled my gut and a layer of sweat coated my back, making my night shirt stick uncomfortably to my skin. My hands were clammy from the anxiety that was seeping through me.