Killer Queen

13.

Eugene's pov

I was curious to know how Thelma had met Marquez, so I asked her about it. Thelma began to recount the harrowing experience that led her to Marquez.

"I was in Jamaica, my home country when something terrible happened," Thelma started. "A robber attacked me, Valerie, and my brother Kevin. Kevin didn't make it, and I was filled with anger. I ended up taking matters into my own hands and dealt with the thief."

She paused for a moment, the memories weighing heavily on her. "I thought things would go back to normal after that, despite the trauma of losing my brother and taking a life. But then I found a note from a local figure called Trench Don, whose younger brother was the thief I had confronted. He threatened me, and I knew I had to leave Jamaica to keep Valerie safe."

Thelma continued, "I sought refuge with my best friend Monique in Spanish Town for a couple of days. But the threats persisted, and that's when I reached out to Marquez for help. He played a crucial role in getting us out of Jamaica safely."

As Thelma finished her story, she locked eyes with me. Her gaze shifted to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "You're handsome without your glasses," she said with a smile. "Let me tell you who you look like... a Jewish version of Michael Jackson."

I was surprised by her observation. "How do you know I'm Jewish?" I asked.

Thelma chuckled. "Well, I initially thought you were Indian because of your olive skin. But Marquez reminded me about your Russian father and Austrian mother. I put two and two together and figured out your background."

She continued, "I remember what my brother taught me when I was young. He was a nerd for details, so I realized your mother must be from Austria-Hungary, where some Jewish people have roots."

Intrigued by Thelma's insights, I asked about her background. She shared, "On my father's side, my great-grandmother is Indian, and apparently, I resemble her a lot. As for my mother's side, she is of Maroon descent. So my dad has a bit of Indian heritage, while my mom is mostly Maroon."

As we delved into our respective backgrounds, I found common ground despite our diverse origins. Our connection deepened as we shared our stories, forging a bond that transcended cultural differences.

Thelma's pov

I was having a giggle session with Eugene when suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Eugene asks who it is, and Marquez's voice replies, "It's me." I slightly panicked but retained my composure as I opened the door. I was met by Marquez's brown eyes, hoping he wasn't mad at me for talking to another man.

shortly after Marquez left Eugene yawned letting me know he was tired. "tired huh," I chuckled and he nodded and told me he was going to shower first. I watch him go to the bathroom doorway and take off his shirt. he looked a bit too skinny but that wasn't the only thing I noticed he had healed wounds on his back. 

he must've felt my eyes peering through his back because he turned to me. "When I was 10 my father said I was getting too fat which I wasn't because I was the average weight of a 10-year-old but he wanted an issue to complain about." I walked closer to him. I could see the tears forming in his eyes. "hey, you don't have to tell me if you do-

"no I need to get this off my chest it's been built up for so long... he put me on a diet for 2 months and I was super skinny. at one point his sister my Aunt Maggie threatened to call the CPS and I was admitted to the hospital. Aunt Maggie stayed with me until I was okay again but little did she know it was more than just my father being fatphobic. he was just pure evil." Eugene broke down crying when he finished talking. I pull him down on my shoulders. "I'm glad Derek killed that son of a bitch." he lifts himself off my shoulder and takes off his glasses. I smile at his handsome face and back away. he smirks and wipes the tears off his face.