Quick Love

"The first love is the one that leaves an everlasting impression on the heart."

Andrew was pacing back and forth in his home, trying not to think about why Addy wasn't answering her phone. It had been hours since their separation, why isn't she picking up? What if she's mad at him? Or mad? Or wants to be alone? Did he do something? So many questions filled his head, though he didn't let them overwhelm his head and instead made himself focus on something else.

His foster father had opened the door at that moment. Mark could tell by the shocked expression on his face that Andrew hadn't been expecting him. But something in those eyes of his seemed predatory and icy cold, which was what scared Andrew more than anything else. "Hello?"

"Father..?" Andrew whispered, but stopped as he saw the devilish appearance of his face, it seemed murderous. "What happened?!" He silently closed the door behind him and followed Andrew into the living room. His hands were shaking slightly as he wiped off some imaginary dust onto his pants and cleared his throat. "What I should have."

"What the hell did you do?!" Anger flared through Andrew's heart as soon as he heard those words leave his lips; fear instantly rippled through him at what could happen next. With each step Mark took towards him Andrew could feel the tension in the air increasing tenfold. He slipped; reality crashed down around him as Mark brought both of his hands forward and struck Andrew across the cheek with all of his might, leaving a large pop sound echoing throughout the room.

Andrew stumbled back, shocked and trying to make sense of it all. He held his hand against his face as he watched Mark continue to hit him, slowly mustering up the words that he had wanted to scream out for so long. "I killed her... I killed Addy," Mark screamed with pleasure, seeing Andrew's lips quivering and tears rolling down his cheeks as he spoke. He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to look at the man who had not once been like a father to him for the past few years.

Andrew stopped him in his tracks suddenly, taking Mark's arms and holding them with adrenaline rushing into his body, shock washing over him before anger took its place once more. He pushed Mark away from him with enough force that he skidded backwards across the floor before finally coming to a stop. "What did you say?" His voice cracked with rage and disbelief as he looked at Mark with disdain written all over his face.

"That's right, you slut," Mark grinned, "I killed her. You are not to be in any relationship with any person, I don't give a fuck who they are, do you understand me?!"

Andrew ignored him, he was at a loss for words. Sobbing was the only thing he knew to do. The love of his life was dead thanks to the bitch who was his 'father'. He stumbled back, collapsing onto the ground after attempting to collect himself and stand, feeling like his heart was tearing apart. Mark's words echoed in his mind as he tried to understand what had happened. He had suspected that something wasn't right, but he never could have imagined this. His emotions were a jumbled mess of pain, anger, and betrayal.

Mark leaned over him, a sneer on his face. "You're pathetic, Andrew. Just like your mother. You'll never be able to handle the truth." He spat the last word out, a vicious tone in his voice.

Andrew felt something snap inside of him. All the years of pent-up anger and hurt boiled over, and he lunged at Mark. Their bodies collided, and they tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Andrew's fists pummeled Mark's face, not stopping until he felt blood coating his knuckles.

"Stop," Mark gasped out, trying to push Andrew away. "Stop it, you're going to kill me!"

Andrew felt his anger dissipate, and he stopped hitting Mark, standing up and stepping away. His entire body was shaking, and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had lost his mother, then his first love, and now he had hurt the man who had posed as a father to him for the past few years. Andrew could feel the guilt crashing down on him, and he sank to his knees, not knowing what to do next. He didn't know what to do.