Addicts Trilogy © [ENGLISH EDITION]

Chapter forty-two

BOOK II

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Warning
This episode contains scenes of explicit violence, self-harm, sexual violence and inappropriate use of language. It is recommended to read at your own risk.

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"I have always thought that infidelity does not exist. I thought you could be faithful, even having sex with other people. The body can be shared, but the soul, definitely not."
-Dominick.

1965

My name is Ricardo Larsson Soto. I was born in Barcelona Pedralbes, Spain. With a family with an average social level, but I still felt like having everything: two brothers, my mom, my dad. Everything was perfect. I entered school and well, I applied myself a lot to study and I always liked to debate or interfere in the problems of others to try to solve them or I don't know, defend people's rights.

My brothers, Ranses and Camilo and I, were always very close. Our parents, Santiago Larsson and Sheila Soto, taught us to always overcome problems together and to help each other, in everything, in every decision. It was always like that.

At the age of thirteen, things began to change a little; my dad began to have problems with alcohol, he came home very late and well, there was not as much peace as it always was, or there was simply no more peace. The smiles in the house became screams, the laughter, tears and fights, tantrums... and what was a happy family stopped being so. I grew up with that pain of having to see my father in that state, without being able to do much, since when he intervened in his fights, I ended up worse.

At thirteen I also met Andrés, he is a neighbor who lives next to my house. He is two years older than me and after several times bumping into each other on the street, we decided to talk and well, we became best friends.

At fourteen, my dad lost his job, it was my mom's turn to work, my brothers and I already had a painful situation. Many times we spent days and days without eating because there was nothing. Since the oldest was Camilo, we had food at the neighbors' house from time to time, when we couldn't take it anymore. Andrés found out about it a year later, when I told him. At fourteen, the violence began; my dad with his abnormal drunkenness often came to claim him without any sense, he simply came to fight my mom and many times I heard blows... I saw her bruised, I saw her crying in silence. And that it was love for my father turned into hatred.

My brothers and I were separated, Camilo, the older one, went with dad's brother to London, we didn't have so much contact. Ranses, the youngest, went with the family of a very close friend of mom's to Bermuda, I stayed with my mother. I had to be everything at home, hear screams, hear beatings, sobs and I could no longer mess with that situation. My mom didn't want to call the authorities because, literally there was always a preference for men somehow, always they (the adults), were the good ones.

When I was fifteen, I worked and studied hard, my mom worked less every day, since not only was she assaulted by my dad's animal, I could no longer stand the situation. I didn't want to keep seeing how my mom was tortured and I... couldn't do anything. I was always going to talk about it with Andrés, he always listened to me and advised me when necessary. The days went by and well, things only went from bad to worse.

My mom started smoking cigarettes, she fell into depression, severe anxiety, she was already starting to have worse problems and, I swear on my life, it was terrible to live that, to feel the family destroyed. Seeing how my mom got thinner, her body, only hurt herself. And no matter how much I cried and begged him to stop, I achieved nothing. Only scolding and more scolding.