Obsession Of A Psychopath ☠︎︎

Chapter 18 : 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔

☠︎︎ Hunter's POV☠︎︎

As I tied my tie, I descended the stairs and entered the dining area where Amanda was already eating. I greeted her "Good morning,"

"Morning"She replied.

I took a seat.

"My love are you alright"I asked.

"I'm peachy-I made quite a lot of food unintentionally, so feel free to eat as much as you want," she replied, her tone distant.

I observed her silently, sensing that something was amiss.

'Interesting,' I thought to myself, intrigued by her behavior.

I reached for the cup in front of me and took a sip of the hot tea, sighing as I blew out the steam. In that moment, memories from my childhood flooded my mind.

I remembered entering the kitchen with mud-covered feet, causing my mother to gasp and rush to my side. She knelt down to meet me at eye level, concern etched on her face.

"Hunter, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

My face and body were bruised, and my nose was bleeding. Mom carefully examined my injuries, her anger palpable.

"Some kids were bullying me," I complained.

"I've had just about enough of this. I'm going to your school first thing tomorrow to talk to your principal," Mom declared, her determination evident.

"Am I a freak, Mommy?" I blurted out suddenly, my voice filled with insecurity.

"You're not a freak, my little boy. Never say that," Mom warned, running a comforting hand through my hair.

"But it's true. They say that boys my age aren't supposed to have such a high IQ. I'm the youngest in the class, and all the older kids bully me. I want to go back to elementary school," I lamented.

"Don't say that. It's not your fault that you were born smart. I'm proud that I gave birth to a child with great talent. My son is only ten years old, and he's already in high school. You were a handful in elementary school, and your teacher saw great potential, which is why they suggested you skip a few grades. Do you want to disappoint her?" she asked, trying to instill confidence in me.

I averted my gaze, feeling a mix of emotions and uncertainty.

"No," I replied quietly.

"There we go, my boy. Now let's get you cleaned up. I can't believe those kids hit you. The principal will hear about this," Mom growled, lifting me up and placing me on the kitchen counter.

"Mummy," I asked as she tended to my wounds.

"Hmm," she replied, her attention focused on me.

"Why does Dad hate me?" I questioned. She froze, her eyes widening.

"Baby, he doesn't hate you," she began to explain, but I interrupted her.