Killer Queen

9.

Thelma's pov

When I saw Eugene cry, tears welled up in my eyes too. Witnessing someone's father dying in front of them, it's a pain I know too well. But the difference here is stark – Eugene's father deserved what was coming to him.

I've recently learned about Eugene's past, how he was bullied by his own father, and my heart aches for him. I can only imagine the horrors he endured, the scars he carries. Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. My upbringing, though far from perfect, was free from such brutality.

Derek swiftly got rid of the body, I felt a mix of relief and apprehension. It was a necessary evil, but the aftermath weighed heavily on my conscience.

Meanwhile, Marquez was helping Eugene with his luggage, and I couldn't believe Eugene's father had actually made him pack a suitcase to come to live with us. The thought sent shivers down my spine – the sheer terror he must have felt, fearing his own father to such an extent.

It made me realize how lucky I was to have escaped such a fate. But it also filled me to protect Eugene, to ensure that he finds safety and solace in our home, away from the horrors of his past.

Valerie and I returned to our rooms, but just as I was about to close the door, Marquez's voice stopped me. With a smirk plastered on his face, he called out to me, and I couldn't help but look at him with utter disgust.

"You might not like me now, but you'll come around one day," he said, his words oozing with arrogance. I rolled my eyes at his audacity. Sure, he may think he's got some kind of hold over me, but I refuse to be manipulated.

I might be pure and a little naive, but I'm not dumb. I've seen enough of the world to know how it works, especially when it comes to men like Marquez. If I ever allow myself to succumb to his advances, I'll be no different from his unhappy wife. And speaking of her, where is she?

Suddenly, the sound of the twins crying echoed through the halls, breaking the tense moment. Marquez leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips before rushing off to attend to his children.

Eugene's room was right next to mine, and despite my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing, consumed by the events of the day and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. I lay in bed, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

Every now and then, I'd hear Eugene yell out, his voice echoing through the walls like a haunting reminder of the trauma he had endured. It was clear that he was struggling, his nightmares a testament to the pain and suffering he had endured at the hands of his abusive father.

Each cry pierced through the silence of the night, a stark reminder of the darkness that lurked within the walls of this mansion. I couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for Eugene, knowing that he was facing his demons alone, with no one to turn to for comfort or solace.

But as much as I wanted to reach out to him, to offer him some semblance of support in his time of need, I couldn't bring myself to move. Fear held me captive, paralyzing me with its icy grip as I lay there, helpless to do anything but listen to his cries.

In that moment, I realized just how fragile we all were, and how easily our lives could be shattered by forces beyond our control.

The next morning

We all, except Eugene who was still asleep, woke up and gathered in the kitchen. Julia descended the stairs with the twins in tow, her tired eyes betraying the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her. As she approached, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, knowing the burden she carried as the wife of a man like Marquez.

I offered to hold one of the twins, hoping to ease her load even just a little. But when I extended my arms, Julia gave me a skeptical look, her expression guarded as if she were sizing me up. I could sense her hesitation, the wariness in her eyes as she assessed whether she could trust me with her precious children.