L̸͟͞o̸͟͞c̸͟͞k̸͟͞e̸͟͞d̸͟͞ A̸͟͞w̸͟͞a̸͟͞y̸͟͞❀

Chapter 24

                     ༺L̥e̥t̥s̥ t̥ḁl̥k̥༻

He appeared to be an entirely different person from the last time she had seen him.

Once, he was just a sweet, innocent child, lost in his world of toy cars, crafting imaginary racetracks that meandered through the living room and into the farthest reaches of his imagination. He had been a genuinely kind boy, with a laugh that could brighten the darkest days and a heart brimming with generosity. He would share his toys with anyone who asked, his small hands eager to give rather than receive.

But the figure standing before her now was anything but that. The boy she once knew had been replaced by a stranger, a young man radiating a wild, mischievous energy that sent chills down her spine. His eyes sparkled with a dangerous glimmer, a stark contrast to the wide-eyed innocence she remembered. He was undeniably handsome, just as she and his parents had predicted he would be, but that beauty now felt like a facade, concealing something sinister beneath.

No one would ever suspect that this boy, now a man, had taken his parents' lives. The horror of it was unimaginable, a dark secret that twisted the very essence of their family. No one could comprehend the depths of his madness, the way he had seamlessly slipped into a role so convincingly that it was as if he had been rehearsing for this moment his entire life. He seemed far too innocent, his demeanor disarming, as if he were still that sweet child playing with his toy cars, oblivious to the chaos he had unleashed.

He knew precisely how to manipulate the situation, how to play the charming nephew while concealing the monster within. "Did I scare you, Aunt Ang?" he asked, his smile deceptively innocent, "The door creaks a lot, doesn’t it?" He chuckled lightly, the sound reverberating in the stillness of the room, a jarring reminder of the laughter that once filled their home.

Angelina could only stare at him, paralyzed in disbelief. The boy she had loved and nurtured was gone, replaced by this chilling version of Richard, who laughed as if nothing had happened, as if he were still that sweet child.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, brushing his fingers across his cheek, a feigned innocence dancing in his eyes. "You seem to be staring."

"What do you want?" Angelina snapped, her voice sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension that hung thick in the air.

"Can't I just have a conversation with my Aunt?" He looked genuinely puzzled, as if her anger was a riddle he couldn't solve, a puzzle piece that refused to fit.

"Stop pretending, Richard!" she shouted, her frustration boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove.

He lowered his gaze, a sly grin creeping across his lips—an unsettling, sinister grin that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You always had a knack for sensing when I was up to no good," he said, his tone dripping with mockery.

"You're my nephew. I used to know you well," she replied, her voice trembling slightly, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her.

"Used to? Why say it like that? We're still family," he said, his smile widening, a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

"After you took my sister and brother-in-law from me, I can't see us as family anymore," she spat, her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a reminder of the loss that had shattered her world.

"That's unfortunate," he pouted, feigning disappointment, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "But I still have Amy."

"She doesn't belong to you!" Angelina shouted again, her heart racing, a wild drumbeat of defiance against the encroaching darkness.

"Oh, but she does, dear Aunt. She loves me just as much as I love her," he said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her, each movement calculated, like a chess player anticipating his opponent's next move.

"She sees you as a brother. Your feelings for her are twisted!" she countered, her voice rising in pitch, desperation creeping in.

"That's where you're mistaken, Aunt Ang," he said, standing directly in front of her, looming over her like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. "She's just confused about her feelings."

Angelina's anger was overshadowed by a deep-seated fear, a primal instinct that warned her of the danger he posed.

Now that he was so close, she could see the power in his physique, muscles straining against his shirt, a physical manifestation of the darkness that had taken root in his heart.

"Now, let's talk"